Mother's Day, Muffins, and Murder Read online

  My thoughts coalesced, and I said slowly, “If Klea was killed Wednesday morning before the eight-twenty-five bell—which is when Gabrielle thought she saw something in the storage closet—why did no one notice Klea was missing during the fire drill? Don’t they have procedures for that? It can’t just be the kids that they keep track of. They have to account for the adults in the building too.”

  “There are procedures in place, but the procedures only work when people follow them. The janitors are supposed to exit the building and line up on the field with the cafeteria workers. Vaughn Lang, the other janitor on duty that morning, didn’t see Klea, but he assumed she’d been caught on the other side of the school when the alarm sounded. He thought she had exited through the other doors and was in the group that lines up near the bus circle. He says that he was about to speak up, but then the firefighters came out of the building with the news that it was a false alarm. If the fire had been a real one, he says he would have said something, but he didn’t want to get Mrs. Burris in trouble.”

  “Did anyone see her at all yesterday morning—alive, I mean? Maybe she didn’t even come to the school. Maybe Gabrielle didn’t see her body in the closet, after all. Maybe she just imagined it,” I said, thinking that Gabrielle would be so upset if she could hear me. As terrible as it was that Klea was dead, the thought that it might not have happened on school grounds made me feel a little better. I didn’t want to think that someone had committed a murder in the school where my kids spent so much of their days. “Klea lived right across the street, and I know she walked to work. I usually see—I mean, I usually saw her walking along the chain-link fence when I dropped the kids off in the morning.”

  “Mr. Lang had a short conversation with her yesterday morning at seven-thirty in the janitor’s office.”

  “Well, if he’s the only one who saw her . . .”

  “He’s not,” Detective Waraday said quickly. “And her belongings—a purse and a sweater—were retrieved from her locker. I doubt she left them there overnight.”

  “No,” I said with a sigh. Which meant the death had probably occurred on school property. I shivered. “No woman would go off and leave her purse.”

  Detective Waraday said, “Glad we agree about something. Now then, tell me about today. I understand you went into the woods during the Field Day event?”

  “Yes, to get a Frisbee. I saw Karen standing beside the path. She was very still. I called out and asked if she was okay, and when she turned to look at me, I could tell from her expression that something was wrong.”

  He asked me questions, taking me through the morning, and jotted down my answers. Finally, he put his pen down. “Okay, Mrs. Avery. I think that’s all we need for now, unless there is something else that you think is relevant?” he asked.

  I searched his face for a trace of condescension, but he seemed to be completely serious. “Um, no, I can’t think of anything else.”

  He nodded and stood, then walked with me through the miniature tables and chairs, which, while they were the perfect size for five-year-olds, made me feel like a giant.

  Before we reached the classroom door, I stopped. “Detective Waraday, do you think the students here are in any . . . well, I don’t want to be alarmist, but do you think there’s any danger? If Klea was killed in the school . . .” I paused, trying to think how to put things, but gave up trying to think of a diplomatic way to phrase my question. “I have two kids in school here. If there’s any chance that they might be in danger, you would let Mrs. Kirk know, wouldn’t you?” After the discovery of Klea’s body, Mrs. Kirk had decided not to dismiss school. Aside from the chaos an unexpected early dismissal would cause, Mrs. Kirk had said she wanted to keep everything as normal as possible for the students.

  I expected Detective Waraday to brush off my concern, but he looked at me with sympathy. “We don’t know all the details yet, so I can’t say anything with one hundred percent certainty, but I assure you that if I thought there was a threat to the students here, I would make sure they were all escorted home, if need be. No, early indications point to . . .” He pursed his lips and tilted his head. “Let’s say off-campus issues in Klea’s life will be our primary line of pursuit at this time. I had to ask you all the questions about yesterday and this morning to make sure I had the full picture.”

  “Right. Thank you for the information. That makes me feel a little better.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you kept the information about what Mrs. Matheson saw—or thinks she saw—in that storage closet quiet.”

  “I won’t say anything else, but Mrs. Kirk knows about it as well as Peg. She works in the office, so if either of them mentioned it to someone, the story is already out.”

  He nodded, then said, “I understand that, but if you’d not talk about it with anyone else, that would be best.”

  “Of course.”

  He opened the door of the classroom, and his sheriff’s deputy badge and shirt were quite a contrast to the brightly colored spring flowers that were taped to the door. He lifted his chin at a waiting deputy and said, “Escort Mrs. Avery back to the office. She’s cleared to leave. I need to speak to Karen Hopkins.”

  The deputy and I walked side by side through the quiet hallways, his equipment belt jangling with each step. Voices of teachers and students floated out of classrooms as we walked by, which was a little jarring. It was odd to think that school was still going on a short distance from where Klea’s body had been found, but as I’d found out a few years ago, Detective Waraday was a very thorough investigator, and if he felt that Klea’s death wasn’t related to the school, then there was no need to panic and pull the kids out before the school year ended.

  I sincerely hoped Detective Waraday was right, but I knew that sometimes the initial line of inquiry didn’t always pan out, and I resolved to be a little more active in my volunteering. I was already scheduled to be at the school quite a bit over the next few weeks for all the end-of-the-school-year activities. I might just have to expand those volunteer hours even more until Klea’s murderer was caught.

  Organizing Tips for PTA Moms

  When to say no to volunteering:

  • If a volunteer job makes you anxious.

  • If you don’t have the skills to accomplish what is asked of you.

  • If your schedule is already full and you don’t have the time.

  • If you are in a season of life like new motherhood or caring for elderly relatives that consumes your time.

  • Remember, you don’t have to give a reason or excuse. Say that you can’t take on the job and then don’t let anyone guilt-trip you into changing your mind.

  Chapter Six

  I was worried about how the kids would react to the news about Klea’s death, which I broke to them after school on the way to the special parent-teacher meeting that Mrs. Kirk had announced would take place immediately after dismissal. But while Livvy and Nathan seemed surprised by the news, they both displayed the typical resiliency of kids. When we got home after the meeting, Livvy said it was sad and sat still without saying anything else while she ate a clementine. Then she asked, “Will school be cancelled tomorrow?”

  “No. Mrs. Kirk says everything will go on as scheduled.”

  Livvy nodded, slid off her chair, and reached down to pet Rex, our overly friendly Rottweiler. “I want to get the computer game Ms. McCormick has,” she said.

  I was used to abrupt topic shifts from the kids, so I said, “What’s it about?” Livvy didn’t spend a lot of time on the computer and I liked that she usually picked books over games, so I wasn’t sure I wanted to encourage her to shift her priorities.

  “It’s called Adventure-matics. You know, like part adventure, part math. It’s really cool. The first levels are easy, but then it gets harder and harder. Ms. McCormick lets us play it if we finish our classroom work early.”

  “I see.” The school classrooms had all been outfitted with computers during the summer. Not every desk had a
computer, but all the rooms now had a computer section.

  “I finished the treasure hunt level today,” she said.

  The way she said it, I could tell it was an achievement.

  “Good job. What was it about?”

  “Well, it’s kind of sneaky, actually. You land on this island, and you have to do all sorts of fractions to figure out the map and get across the island. The lagoon with the piranha was really tough. If you get it wrong, you fall into the lagoon and get eaten, but if you get it right you get more of the map. Then, when you get all the way across the island and work that last problem, it unlocks the treasure chest and then you can go on to the Jungle Trek. That’s where I am.”

  “Sounds like something worth looking into. I’ll check for it online.”

  “Oh, Ms. McCormick says it’s not available yet, that she’s got a special test version but she’ll tell us when it’s out.”

  Livvy went off to find her book. After a few seconds, Nathan, who was still sitting at the table twisting the rind of the clementine into different shapes, said, “So it really wasn’t a zombie.” He looked relieved, and I realized he was still thinking about the news about Klea. I guess a death was better than a zombie in his way of thinking.

  Later that night, over a plate of cookies, Abby asked, “So what are you going to do?” She touched a white piece of paper on the counter beside a plate. “Do you believe this? That everything is okay?”

  The note had gone home with all the kids and explained that Klea’s body had been discovered and that the sheriff’s department was investigating. Detective Waraday, along with the school superintendent and counselors, had been there after dismissal to answer questions at the special Parent-Teacher Association meeting. Abby picked up a cookie. “They really didn’t tell us anything at that meeting today.”

  “I know. It was vague,” I said. Detective Waraday hadn’t mentioned anything about primary lines of inquiry being off campus, so I kept that bit of news to myself, but I did wonder why he’d told me that earlier today. Had he again been watching for my reaction? Had he been trying to catch me out, or scare me? He had tried to use those tactics in the past, but I didn’t think that was what was going on this time. The meeting at the school had been full of generalizations and reassurances: working around the clock to find the culprit, stepped-up law enforcement presence at the school, no specific or credible links from the murder to the school—at this time. “I’m sure they’re doing everything they can, and if they do have any leads, they can’t really announce them to the whole school.”

  Abby frowned. “Wow, you’re cutting Detective Waraday a lot of slack—much more than you did before.”

  “I’m not a suspect—thank goodness—this time . . . just a concerned parent. At least that’s how it felt today when he talked to me. A lot less threats and more sympathy. It was a nice change,” I said.

  “So I guess the question is—are you sending the kids to school tomorrow?” Abby glanced into the living room, where Livvy was sprawled in a chair with a book in her lap while Nathan and Charlie had practically every action figure they owned strewn around every flat surface in the room. Rex had uncurled himself from his cushion by the window and trotted through the room, knocking down the action figures and poking his nose over Nathan’s and Charlie’s shoulders to breathe heavily in their faces for a while before loping off to patrol the backyard for squirrels.

  “I think so,” I said slowly. “Mitch and I talked about it on the phone a little while this afternoon. The kids don’t seem frightened or traumatized. And I’m sure there will be lots of law enforcement types on campus at least for a few days.”

  Abby dusted the cookie crumbs from her fingers and said, “It’s not like we have a rigorous academic schedule for the next few weeks. I could keep Charlie home, and he wouldn’t fall behind.”

  “But you have to be there,” I said. “Or are you thinking of staying home as well?” Mrs. Kirk had made it clear that attendance for both students and staff, at least for the rest of the week, was optional.

  Abby sighed. “I’d like to, but then I think of all my kids. I know at least some of them will be there tomorrow, and I hate to think of them having a substitute in case they’re worried or scared.” She sighed and pushed away from the counter. “No, I don’t think we’ll stay home. I’d feel better being there on campus.”

  I was glad Abby would be there tomorrow. I knew I couldn’t actually spend every minute of the day in the school, so having her there sort of as my backup for Livvy and Nathan made me feel better. “I’ll be there, too,” I said, “for Field Day again.”

  “Right, the upper grades. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “And if I wasn’t scheduled to be there tomorrow, I think I’d drop in and volunteer anyway.”

  * * *

  I’d never seen so many volunteers the next morning. Apparently, I wasn’t the only parent who liked the idea of being on campus. I think it must have been the best attended Field Day in the school’s history. The back field was packed with parents. Apparently, the investigators had finished examining the school building, and were now concentrating only on the woods, which had been completely blocked off. Even the hard-packed dirt path that ran from the corner of the blacktop to the woods had been cordoned off with barricades.

  It wasn’t as hot today, and a thin screen of clouds coupled with a light breeze made the day feel pleasant. Even at the mid-point of the event, when I went to take my turn at the refreshment station, the weather was still nice. Since the day wasn’t sweltering, I wasn’t as busy handing out water bottles, and I watched the investigators moving around the trees beyond the crime scene tape. It looked as if they were methodically searching the whole wooded area.

  Mrs. Kirk had opened Field Day that morning with a moment of silence for Klea, and except for the flutter of crime scene tape along the perimeter of the woods, once the event began, I thought that anyone strolling into the event would never know that a body had been discovered in the woods yesterday. Well, unless they listened to the conversations among the parents.

  As I returned to the section of the field where Livvy’s class was stationed, I dropped into my chair beside two moms who were deep in conversation.

  “. . . can’t believe they’re going on with Field Day as if nothing has happened. I mean, it’s upsetting enough for the kids as it is, but to have to be out here—within sight of where it happened—it’s just . . . I don’t know . . . not right. And I told Mrs. Kirk exactly that, but she said she didn’t agree—that the kids need the normalcy of routine and to cancel the second day of Field Day would only emphasize the tragedy in their minds. Can you believe that?”

  The second mom rolled her eyes. “And if Field Day is going on, the kids are going to insist on going to school. Any other day and they’d gladly stay home, but not today.”

  The announcement of the next event drew my attention back to the field, and I spent the rest of the time snapping more pictures and cheering for Livvy and her class. They came in first in two events, one of them the fifty-yard relay, which the whole class was happy about since that event was the finale of Field Day for the upper grades. She was in a little huddle with two other friends as they walked back to the school for lunch, so instead of breaking up the group, I waved and shouted that she’d done a good job.

  She smiled and waved back, then moved away with her friends as I packed up my chair. While I loved that she was a reader, it was good to see her interacting with her friends, too. I was in the lobby, making my way toward the office to sign out, when a hand gripped my elbow and a voice heavy with a Southern accent said, “Ellie, I can’t believe you didn’t call me yesterday. I told you there was a body in that closet.”

  A couple of parents moving around us shot disapproving glances our way. It seemed the parents were fine discussing Klea’s death among themselves, but they didn’t want it mentioned in front of the kids. “Hi, Gabrielle,” I said, stepping out of the flow of parents and students
streaming in the doors. “I did think about calling you, but it was too late by the time I was able to do it. I was kind of busy earlier in the day—being interviewed by the sheriff’s department and then dealing with the kids.”

  She immediately looked contrite. “Oh, that’s right. I wasn’t thinking about your kids. How are they taking it? Are they scared?”

  “No. They think it’s very sad, but they’re doing okay. Mostly, I think because they didn’t really know Klea. Did you know her at all?”

  “Not really. Only to say hello to in the hall, that sort of thing. That detective—you know, the one who looks like he graduated from high school about two minutes ago? He came by my house yesterday afternoon. It was shocking to hear that they’d found Klea . . . like that, but at the same time I was half expecting it—not that it would be Klea, of course.” She shook her head as she added, “Just someone.” She gave a little shiver that made the silky material of her camp shirt shimmer. Her gaze traveled over the parents, students, and teachers coming inside the building through the double doors from the field; then she lowered her voice. “It’s scary to think the murderer had to be someone here at the school.”

  “Why do you say that?” I wasn’t surprised that she’d called it a murder, but that she was sure the murderer had come from the school. I’d watched last night’s news, which had reported the discovery of the body in the field adjacent to the school. The news anchor had said the death was being treated as a homicide, so that was common knowledge. “I got the impression that the investigation wouldn’t focus on the school.”

  Gabrielle’s smooth forehead wrinkled into a frown as she scowled at me. “Not have something to do with the school? Of course it has something to do with the school. The body was discovered here.”

  “No, it wasn’t. It was discovered in the woods.”

  “Well, I saw it here. So that means it was here, at least for a while. Then it was moved. And it was in a trash can from the school.”