Curse of the PTA (25 page)

“Did you have anything to do with the dogs? Do you know Flossie?”

“Whoa, hang on there. Dogs? What are you talking about? And who’s Flossie? Sounds
like the name of a cow.”

I shifted, trying to lessen the screaming of my out-of-shape thigh muscles. Déjà vu
all over again. “Your husband bought two dogs.”

She made a
humph
ing noise, making me think that Castor and Pollux wouldn’t be permanent fixtures in
the Spezza household. “If they’d been decent guard dogs, they’d be barking, wouldn’t
they? Instead, here we are behind a Dumpster, waiting for the cops to show up. And
where are they, anyway?” She looked around.

“Do you think Lou heard the shots?”

“That man?” She snorted and jerked a thumb in the direction of Lou’s apartment entrance.
“Just now I was at his door, trying to work up the guts to knock. He wouldn’t have
heard me if I’d banged with my fist for half an hour. He’s got those ESPN commentators
turned up so loud, he wouldn’t know if a bomb went off unless the ceiling fell on
his head. He probably thought those gunshots were part of Monday Night Football.”

I thought of my cell phone, which was right where I’d wanted it, in Jenna’s pocket.
“My cell phone’s at home.”

“And I’ve never gotten around to getting one.”

We looked at each other.

“Someone’s going to come, right?” Mary Margaret asked. Her voice, which had been devil-may-care
up to this point, was tight with strain. The mask was off, and the real Mary Margaret
was talking to me. “You do have cops in this town, right?”

“Of course someone’s going to come.” When, though, was the question. Lou’s was the
only upstairs apartment on this side of the street, and the buildings on the rest
of the block were retail and professional businesses whose employees and owners had
gone home long ago. “Anytime now,” I said. Now would be good. A couple of minutes
ago would have been even better.

“Who are you trying to convince?” Mary Margaret whispered. “Me, or you? Because if
it’s me, I have to say you’re not doing such a great job.”

I took her hands and put them between mine. Four cold hands full of fear. And it was
my fault that Mary Margaret was in this mess with me. “Someone will come,” I said.
“We have a great police department, they’re just stretched a little thin right now.
I’m sure someone will come soon.”

And, without a doubt, someone would come. But would they get here in time?

Hard footsteps clicked toward us. “Beth?” Melody called. “I know you’re back there.
Come out here right now or I’m coming to get you.”

Chapter 20

M
y hands grasped Mary Margaret’s. “Don’t worry,” I whispered. “I won’t let anything
happen to you.”

She half smiled. We both knew there was nothing that I could do. “I know,” she whispered
back. She crab walked a little closer. Our knees touched. “If you have a plan, I’d
kind of like to hear it. So I can be ready if you need help.”

Help would be good right now. Especially help in the form of multiple police cars,
lights flashing and sirens blaring, zooming in to block the ends of the alley. I held
my breath, listening as hard as I could. But I heard nothing save the thumping of
my own heart and Mary Margaret’s short, sharp breaths.

“Beth?” Melody called. “There’s no reason for your friend to get hurt. All I want
is you out here. All I want is to talk.”

Right. Like you wanted to talk to Dennis just before you shot him.

“Tell you what,” Mary Margaret said. “I’ll make a move on this end of the Dumpster
and you make a move on that end. That’ll distract her long enough that we can run
away. All she’s got is some kind of handgun, and I bet she’s a lousy shot. Most people
can’t hit the broad side of a billboard from more than twenty yards.”

Melody was a lot closer than twenty yards. Of course, Mary Margaret and I weren’t
anywhere near the size of a billboard, so where did that leave us? Crouched behind
a Dumpster with a gun-waving killer on the other side. “You’re not going anywhere,”
I whispered. “Promise that you’ll stay here out of sight.”

She shook her head. “I’m not promising that.”

“But it’s me she’s after. She doesn’t even know who you are.”
And, please,
I said to the dark sky,
let it stay that way. Don’t let this innocent bystander get sucked into something
that’s none of her business.

Mary Margaret bumped my knee. “Say, why is she after you, anyway?”

An excellent question.

“Beth!” Melody called.

She sounded closer. I whispered up a silent prayer to please keep my children safe,
gave Mary Margaret’s hands a squeeze, then released them and started moving away.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a fierce whisper. “You get back here right now.”

“It’ll be all right,” I said calmly. For a great peace was flowing through me, in
me, and around me. There was no doubt in my mind that this was the right thing to
do.

Still in a hard crouch, I shuffled to the corner of the Dumpster. “I’m right here,
Melody.”

“Come on out,” she said.

Talking to her might be the right thing to do, but I wasn’t stupid. “I’m pretty happy
over here.”

“Well, I’m not happy. Not happy at all.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.
Please, let me find the words. Please, let there be a way out of this.
“Bruce and I had a nice talk today.”

“He doesn’t know anything,” she said quickly. “Not a thing. Don’t you go telling Chief
Eiseley anything about my Bruce. I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong.”

Please . . . “What am I thinking?”

She blew out a breath. “You’re thinking that you know what happened. You’re thinking
that Bruce killed Dennis Halpern because he got such bad advice from him. You’re thinking
that Bruce was so angry about Halpern ruining his business that he killed him.”

“Did he?”

“No!” she shouted, then in a more normal tone, “Don’t be ridiculous. Bruce wouldn’t
do a thing like that.”

My thighs weren’t going to last much longer in this forced crouch. Better to sit on
the ground than to fall over in a screaming heap a few minutes from now. I brushed
aside the worst of the gravel and sat. “What would Bruce do?” I asked.

“He’s a good man,” she said. “A very good man and an even better business owner. All
he needed was to be pointed in the right direction. That Dennis”—the end of his name
came out in a horrible hiss—“told him all wrong. And you can believe I called and
told him so, more than once.”

So the stalker Staci mentioned had been Melody. Of course it was. I’d been an idiot
not to realize it. “Wrong?”

“If he’d told him right, the business would still be afloat. All he needed was some”—her
voice caught—“some good advice. Was that too much to ask, that a financial consultant
be able to tell people how to fix their finances?”

“No,” I said slowly. “But what if the advice was given? And then not followed?”

“What? What are you saying?”

There were two clear paths here. One was to keep Melody talking long enough for the
police to arrive. The other was to do what I could. I glanced over at Mary Margaret.
She, too, had dropped to the pavement. Her head was resting back against the metal,
her eyes closed. I watched her for a moment, thinking, then not thinking. Sometimes
decisions aren’t made so much as felt. “I’m saying that maybe Bruce did get good advice.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Melody snapped.

“I’m saying he got advice that would have saved the business, but that following through
was too difficult.”

“What are you talking about?”

Less anger in her voice, more fear. I moistened my lips and went on. “The advice Dennis
gave Bruce was to fire thirty percent of the work force. To fire fifteen employees
to save the other thirty-five.”

Melody drew in a short breath, but didn’t say anything.

“Your Bruce couldn’t see his way to firing people who didn’t deserve it. He couldn’t
see how he could lay off hardworking employees who needed their paychecks to feed
and house their families. He thought he’d find another way.” All so sad, so very sad.
“Your Bruce,” I said quietly, “wanted more than anything to save all his employees.
But it just wasn’t possible.”

Melody made a small animal noise.

“Dennis did his job,” I said. “He told Bruce what the business needed. It wasn’t his
fault that Bruce was too kindhearted to make those awful layoffs. It wasn’t his fault
that Bruce thought he’d find new financing. It wasn’t Denny’s fault at all.”

There a small mewing sound, then a hiccupping sob.

Then finally, finally, the metallic scrape of a gun sliding across asphalt.

I pushed myself closer, trying to hear. Couldn’t. I leaned out from behind my hiding
place. There was Melody, slumped against the brick wall, her blond hair bright even
in the dim light. Her knees were drawn up tight to her chest and her arms were wrapped
around her legs. Somewhere lay the gun, but I couldn’t see it.

“I didn’t know,” she said, tears clogging her words. “I . . . I didn’t know.”

“Of course you didn’t,” I said soothingly, and got to my feet.

Mary Margaret grabbed at my arm. “What are you doing?” she whispered. “Are you nuts?”

Probably. I patted her hand, then pulled out of her reach. “It’ll be okay.” At least
I hoped it would.

“It’ll never be okay,” Melody said into her knees. “I’ve ruined everything. Bruce
was so depressed about the business. Nothing I did or said helped him. But how could
I sit there and do nothing? I had to keep trying.”

“Of course you did,” I said, inching closer.

“He’s my husband,” she said simply. “I love him. I always have and I always will.
I had to try and help.”

“That’s what wives do.”

She wiped at her face with the heels of her hands, but her movement didn’t stop the
flow of tears down her face. The wetness reflected in the faint light, multiple paths
of grief all down her cheeks. “I was so sure getting rid of Dennis would help Bruce
feel better. It’s like it was meant to happen, with him coming to talk to your PTA.
Natalie Barnes, right before she copped out of being PTA secretary, was telling me
all about it. But Bruce didn’t get better, and then everything got worse.”

I hesitated, but then moved a step closer. “What happened?”

“So stupid,” she said. “How could I be so stupid?”

And here I was, trying to sneak up on a woman with a gun. Who was the stupid one?

“What happened?” I asked again, softly, using my Understanding Mom voice.

“It all went wrong so fast,” Melody said, bumping her forehead against her knees.
“You watch TV and think, geez, I wouldn’t be that stupid if I committed a crime. Next
thing you know, there you are, being stupid.”

“It’s hard to be smart all the time.” Another inch closer.

“I’d be happy being smart even half the time. I mean, if I’d known Dennis didn’t keep
any of his files about Bruce in the office here in Rynwood, I wouldn’t have broken
in and I wouldn’t have had to burn it down.”

So simple, once you knew. “To hide evidence.”

“And then I was stupid again when I got rid of the disguise I’d used both times. I
tossed it into Flossie’s bin, but she always takes the garbage out first thing in
the morning, I knew that. She’s done it for years. But I was so glad I’d found a place
to get rid of my disguise without changing my routine that I forgot all about her
routine. Stupid,” she muttered.

“You put the disguise in Flossie’s garbage.”

“Yeah. I had one of those baseball hats with dark hair attached and a black sweatshirt
and dark gray sweatpants. With clothes like that, I figured people would think I was
a guy.”

Which was exactly what we had thought. I moved closer and strained my eyes, looking
for the gun. “So you thought Flossie might have seen you put something in her Dumpster.”
So, not a feint, after all.

“Right.” She breathed in and out, in and out. “And so I had to do something, right?
That’s when I came up with the idea of using those dogs.”

“Lou’s dogs.”

“Is that his name? Short, hairy, Italian-looking guy with the big arms?”

Behind me, I heard Mary Margaret stir. “Yes,” I said quickly. “That’s Lou. He’s a
very nice man.”

“Well, he may be nice, but he doesn’t know anything about dogs. Talk about stupid.”

I risked a quick look over my shoulder. There was Mary Margaret, on her hands and
knees, crawling out from behind the Dumpster. I made frantic “stay put” gestures at
her, but on she came.

“He just got the dogs,” I said. “I’m sure he’ll learn fast.”

“Doubt it,” Melody said. “He reminds me of a guy I knew in school. Dumb as a bag of
hammers.”

Mary Margaret had reached the halfway point and was moving forward fast. But she wasn’t
looking at me or at the huddled Melody. She had her gaze trained on something just
out of my reach. The gun.

Slowly, soundlessly, I repositioned myself, moving between Melody and the gun. I wouldn’t
block much of Melody’s view of the oncoming Mary Margaret, but it was all I could
do.

Melody giggled, sounding much like I had a few minutes ago. “Maybe they’re brothers.
I tell you, this guy was so stupid that in geography class he asked where Old Zealand
was? Think Lou knows?”

Mary Margaret stood and stalked toward the gun. Even in the dark, her fury was made
clear by the set of her arms and her stiff-legged walk. She scooped up the handgun.

Melody, still talking to her knees, was oblivious to the danger.

“Don’t,” I whispered, but Mary Margaret didn’t hear. Or didn’t care to hear. The gun
slid into her hands as if she’d practiced for months. She raised her arms and pointed
the gun directly at Melody.

I was between them, hands out toward Mary Margaret.

Don’t do this. You know you don’t want to. It’s not worth it, nowhere near worth it.
Please . . .

“Then tonight,” Melody said. “I wasn’t so bright then, either. The light back here
is horrible. I can’t believe I didn’t check that out beforehand. If I’d been smart,
this would all have been over by now.”

And I’d be dead, but I wasn’t going to think about that.

Melody rested the heels of her hands against her eyes. “When I saw you talking to
Bruce today, I was sure you were thinking that he did it. I was scared that you’d
go to the police right away. But they didn’t come and they didn’t come, so I figured
you hadn’t told them yet. I thought maybe I had time to stop you.”

“It almost worked,” I murmured.

“What I should have done,” she went on, “was test that key first. Check things out,
you know? Do a dry run. Then I would have gotten it right for sure the second time.”

“Key?” I asked, turning around and looking at her. What key?

“The hidden one.” She nodded in the direction of the back door. “You know, up on top
of the doorjamb. Marcia told me about it.”

Her friend, my former employee Marcia, who had never once mentioned the hidden key
to me.

“Should have done it all differently,” Melody muttered, rubbing her forehead against
her knees. “There’s so much I’d do different, if I could do it over again.”

“What’s the first thing you’d change?” I asked.

She brushed at her face again and shook her head. “I’m going to jail, aren’t I?” she
asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“What about Bruce? What’s he going to do? Who’s going to take care of him?” Her words
wobbled and broke down. “Why . . . did I . . . ? Oh, Bruce . . . Oh, I’m . . . so
sorry . . .” Sobs racked her shoulders, her arms; then her entire body gave over to
the horror of what she’d done, of how she’d ruined her life and the life of her husband.
All over, all gone, gone forever.

I sat down next to her and gathered her into my arms, rocking her back and forth,
back and forth.

Mary Margaret crouched down next to us. “I wasn’t going to shoot her,” she whispered.
“I was just making sure she didn’t make a break for it.”

Back and forth, back and forth. I put my hand on top of Melody’s head and held her
tight. “Go find Lou,” I said quietly. “Call 911. We’ll be here.”

Mary Margaret started to stand.

“And call my daughter, too, please. It’s going to be a while before I get home.”