Murder at the PTA - Lee Hollis A Maya and Sandra Mystery

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tied up in knots. “Hicks has been on such a law-and-order kick lately I was afraid Jack might get expelled.”

      “Not too bad. One-week suspension and a three-game ban,” Sandra said, relieved.

      “Three games? That’s outrageous! The team needs Jack if we’re going to have any chance at a state championship trophy! Would you like me to talk to him? Maybe I can work on him to get a reduced sentence.”

      “I appreciate it, Maisie, but honestly, Jack needs this punishment. What he did was wrong, and if we let it slide, he might develop some kind of hotshot attitude where he starts to think he’s above the rules,” Sandra said.

      “You’re a hell of a lot better mother than I ever would be,” Maisie said, laughing.

      “Oh, come on, I think you’d be great.”

      “That’s because you barely know me. My mother had to do an intervention to rescue my houseplants because I kept forgetting to water them,” Maisie said.

      “I guess I’ll have to find another home for that Chinese elm bonsai tree I was going to give you for your next birthday!”

      Maisie howled. “Only if it comes in plastic. See you at the next PTA meeting!”

      “Will do! I better go find my son before he tackles somebody else!” Sandra called out as she scurried off down the hall. She caught up with Jack, who was at his locker, cleaning it out and throwing his books and supplies into a backpack.

      “Just because you’re going to be home this week, don’t think it’s a school vacation where you can play video games and watch movies on your iPad,” Sandra warned.

      “I know . . . ,” Jack groaned.

      “And there will be physical labor involved as well. The lawn is in desperate need of a mowing and the hedges could use a trim.”

      “If Dad was here . . .”

      “If Dad was here what?”

      “Nothing,” Jack whispered, slamming his locker shut.

      “No, tell me, Jack, what?”

      Jack turned to face her. “If Dad was here, he would go a whole lot easier on me.”

      Sandra pursed her lips. She had expected this kind of reaction. Stephen was always the good cop, and she was always the bad cop. They had grown comfortable in their respective parental roles, but that didn’t make her job any easier. “You’re right. He probably would. But he’s not here. He took the red eye back to DC last night, and he no longer has a say, so I’m afraid you’re stuck with me. Got it?”

      Jack slung the backpack over his shoulder and moodily stared at the floor. “Yeah . . .”

      “Good,” Sandra said. “One more thing.”

      Jack sighed dramatically. “What?”

      “I don’t necessarily approve of your methods, but I’m awfully proud of you for standing up for Kevin.”

      She gave him a peck on the check.

      At first he was mortified and spun his head around to make sure none of his peers had seen him get a kiss from his mother. But luckily the halls were empty with the whole student body safely tucked away in the classrooms, so he didn’t have to make a full-blown scene.

      Instead, he just feigned annoyance and whined, “Mom!”

      CHAPTER ELEVEN

      On their way home, Sandra made the snap decision to turn right instead of left at the intersection, heading in the opposite direction of their house. Jack sat up in his seat and looked around.

      “Where are we going?”

      “You’ll see,” Sandra said, gripping the wheel, with a steely look of determination.

      When she turned onto a quiet road dotted with a few houses, Jack figured out their destination and a smile crept across his face.

      “Thank you . . . ,” he whispered.

      Sandra looked at him and nodded, then turned back, keeping her eyes on the road until they pulled up to a modest single-level house in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint, a yard that hadn’t been mowed in weeks, if not months, and a red rusted Mustang parked out front that hadn’t seen too many more better days than the house.

      Jack eagerly flung open the passenger’s side door and jumped out. He ran across the overgrown grass to the front door and rapped on it with his clenched fist. Sandra got out, and by the time she could catch up and join him, the door had slowly creaked opened and Joel Metcalf stood there. His perturbed expression melted away at the sight of Jack.

      “Sorry we didn’t call first,” Jack said.

      “Don’t be silly,” Joel scoffed. “Kevin will be so happy you’re here.”

      He enveloped Jack in a brief bear hug and then stepped aside and ushered him into the house. “He’s in the living room watching TV.”

      Jack scooted inside as Joel gave Sandra a half-hearted smile. “Looks like we both have kids at home for the foreseeable future.”

      “You already heard?” Sandra asked, surprised.

      “News travels fast in these parts.”

      “Yes, but we literally just left the school. You should be working as a reporter for the Portland Press Herald.”

      “My politics are too conservative for them,” Joel laughed. “Come on in, I’ll put a pot of coffee on.”

      As Sandra entered the house and headed to the kitchen, she had to pass the living room, where she spotted Jack sitting on the couch with his buddy Kevin. The boys were already engaged in an intense conversation. Kevin looked rail-thin, drawn, and tired. He had on a pair of grungy gray sweatpants and a wrinkled black T-shirt with the number 83 on it, which was the same number as his football jersey.

      “How are you, Kevin?” Sandra asked.

      He turned and stared at her with a blank expression, almost as if he had no idea who she was. After blinking a few times, he registered a slight hint of recognition. “Fine, thanks, Mrs. W.”

      Joel herded Sandra into the kitchen before she had a chance to say anything else and pulled out a chair for her at the small rickety table. He then moved to the coffeemaker and began pouring a bag of grounds into the top. “It’s been rough going. He got home from the hospital, and I’m supposed to put him in a rehab program, but we have some insurance issues, and it’s not as easy as people think. So basically I’ve been the one helping him get detoxed.”

      “On your own? Joel, that’s crazy. You need professional help,” Sandra said, concerned.

      “If you know of anybody who works for free, be sure to let me know,” he growled before catching himself and softening his tone. “It’s just hard.”

      Sandra stood up and walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder. “If there is anything I can do . . .”

      He turned to face her, his eyes moist with tears. “I hate to ask . . .”

      She knew what was coming.

      She had heard it many times before.

      “Stephen . . . ,” she whispered.

      Joel nodded. “Yes. People will listen to him. Maybe he can cut through some of the red tape and get us some state aid or something, just speed up the process so Kevin doesn’t fall too far backward.”

      “He flew back to DC last night, but I will call him and see what he can do. I promise.”

      “I appreciate it,” Joel said, eyes lowered, embarrassed.

      “Do you have any idea when Kevin might be well enough to go back to school?”

      Joel

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