Mother's Day Murder (10 page)

B
ack home, Lucy was still thinking about her talk with Rachel when she took a glass of wine into the family room and sat down for a little breather before making supper. She leaned back on a pillow, took a sip of chardonnay, and flipped on the TV to catch the evening news. What she saw made her sit bolt upright: A grainy black-and-white extreme close-up of Bar’s face, with the words
Killer Mom
, filled the screen, accompanied by strident, attention-grabbing music. Thoroughly disgusted, she flipped through the channels, only to see the same theme repeated by all the networks that weren’t showing baseball games or golf matches. Bar was described as a “murderous mom,” “killer mom from hell,” and “maniac mom.” One station even went so far as to show a computer simulation of the shooting, complete with a blond-haired shooter resembling Bar running through the woods.

Even worse, details of the competitive rivalry between the two families were reported, and footage of Ashley and Heather, which looked as if it had come from the local station’s sports department, was aired. They showed Heather skating in a recent competition and Ashley serving a tennis ball with a terrific thwack. Turning off the TV in disgust, Lucy wondered how many times the networks would replay that footage in the coming months, as the investigation continued and the case went to trial. Not that the trial mattered—it seemed that Bar had already been judged guilty and convicted of murder by the media. Even if Bob managed to pull off a miracle and she was found innocent, most people would believe she got off, and that the justice system had failed.

Sighing, she got up and went into the kitchen to start supper. Sunday supper was always a bit of a problem since the family tended to scatter on Sunday afternoons and she never knew when everybody would be home. Bill had recently taken up golf and spent most Sunday afternoons on the new town course. Sara usually spent Sunday afternoons at the Friends of Animals rehabilitation center, helping to care for sick or injured animals, and May was an especially busy time, with lots of orphaned wild babies. Now that Zoe was older, she was enjoying more freedom to roam on her bicycle with her friends. Lucy usually kept it simple, opting for soup and sandwiches so everyone could help themselves, and tonight she’d planned clam chowder and tuna sandwiches. She had set the chowder on low heat and was mixing up the tuna salad, but her mind was elsewhere.

Sure, she muttered to herself, labeling Bar a killer mom sold newspapers, it caught TV viewers’ attention, but it wasn’t fair to Bar. She had as much right to a fair trial as anybody else, and as Rachel had said, it was going to be difficult to find jurors who hadn’t already formed some opinion about her guilt or innocence. But as bad as this was for Bar, Lucy thought it was much worse for Heather and Ashley. They were trapped in this story like flies on sticky yellow flypaper; there was no way they could escape and go back to being regular, anonymous kids. She finished chopping up the celery and mixed it into the bowl with tuna and mayonnaise, then covered the bowl with wrap and set it in the refrigerator. That done, she wondered if there was any way she could turn this juggernaut of publicity in another direction. Write an editorial reminding everybody that Bar was innocent until proven guilty? Do a story on the negative effects of notoriety on teenage girls? Interview Bar and write the story from her point of view? Ted would never go for it, but even if he did, it would reach only a small audience of
Pennysaver
subscribers. No, she thought, the only way to change the dynamic would be to investigate the shooting herself and hopefully turn up some new evidence. She might, she admitted to herself, just find out that everybody was right and Bar was indeed guilty. But there was a chance that Bar was telling the truth when she claimed she was innocent. If that was true, it meant that a dangerous killer was still at large.

Ted wanted her to check out the courthouse for possible malpractice suits against Bart Hume; that would be a good place to start. And while she was at the county complex, she could also pay a visit to Bar in the county jail.

Lucy was stirring the chowder when Zoe came in. “Hi, Mom,” she said. “Where is everybody?”

“Your father’s playing golf, and Sara is at the shelter. She’s going to be late, because somebody brought in five raccoon babies just as they were closing.”

“I bet they’re cute,” said Zoe.

“I’m sure they are,” said Lucy, remembering the spring they’d shared their attic with a rambunctious raccoon family. Those little masked faces had been adorable but very destructive and, being nocturnal, extremely noisy at night, when the thumps and bumps and snarls over their heads had sounded like a rugby match. It had been a great relief when they’d finally left and Bill was able to seal the attic so the mother couldn’t return next year to raise another litter.

“Maybe she could bring one home for a pet.”

“No way!” exclaimed Lucy, who remembered having to wear a face mask and rubber gloves to clean up the mess they’d left. Then, seeing Zoe’s disappointed expression, she softened her voice. “Libby wouldn’t like it very much, I’m afraid.”

“You know, Mom,” said Zoe, growing serious. “I’ve been worried about Sara.”

Hearing this, Lucy’s motherly radar switched to red alert. “Why have you been worried?” she asked, trying to sound casual.

“Well, when I was doing my homework yesterday, my pen ran out of ink, so I went in Sara’s room to find another one. Her backpack was on her desk chair, and I opened it. I know I should have gotten her permission first, but I only needed to write a few words to finish my vocabulary sentences. Anyway, I found all sorts of medicine in there, but she’s not sick, is she?”

“Not that I know of,” said Lucy. “What kind of medicine?”

“Mostly diet pills and vitamins and some laxatives. There was something called Ipekicky or something like that.”

“Ipecac?”

“That’s it.”

Lucy was stunned. She couldn’t believe her beautiful, healthy, intelligent Sara was resorting to these extreme measures to lose weight.

“I learned in health class that those things are bad for you,” added Zoe. “Using stuff like that can give you anorexia or bulimia, and those are bad news.”

“Have you seen her taking them?” asked Lucy.

“No, but she’s been real mean lately. Don’t tell her I told, okay?”

“It’s just between you and me. So, how about some supper?”

“Great. I’m starving,” said Zoe.

Once Lucy ladled out some chowder and made a sandwich, she left Zoe to eat her supper and went upstairs. She hurried into Sara’s room and peeked into the backpack, but it was empty, except for a couple of notebooks. She had just finished searching the room, finding nothing, when Zoe called out that Bill was home.

When Sara came home around seven-thirty, Lucy sat down at the kitchen table with her and drank a cup of decaf. She said it was just to keep her company and chatted with her about her day, but she also wanted to make sure that Sara was eating, without alerting her to the fact that she’d been snooping in her room. She knew that would set off a firestorm. The food went down as Sara chatted about the baby raccoons, describing their antics. Lucy paid special attention to her movements that evening, and there was no sign she was spending a lot of time in the bathroom, but Lucy remained watchful.

When Lucy drove to work on Monday morning, she was shocked at the number of TV trucks parked on Main Street. A few reporters were even giving reports, looking rather silly standing on little step stools and flanked by umbrella-like light reflectors as they spoke earnestly into the cameras. A few were already in the
Pennysaver
office, demanding information from Phyllis, who was also trying to answer the phone, which was ringing constantly. “Where can you get coffee? Who’s got the best takeout? What’s the high school principal’s name? What do you know about Bar Hume? Tina Nowak? What do you people do for fun?”

Arriving behind Lucy, Ted took charge. “This is Maine. We’re New Englanders. We don’t believe in fun,” he declared, shooing them out. “I’d love to help you, but I’ve got a newspaper to put out,” he said, shutting the door and flipping the sign to
CLOSED
.

“From now on we’ll have to use the back door,” he told Lucy as he shut the old-fashioned wood blinds on the plate-glass window. “Phyllis, for God’s sake, switch the phone to voice mail. I can’t hear myself think.”

“Good morning to you, too,” said Lucy.

“It’s not a good morning,” he replied. “I’ve got to get over to Gilead for the arraignment, the warrant for the town meeting just came in, all seventy-eight pages of it, and I can’t go anywhere without having some network nitwit shoving a microphone in my face.”

“It’s a regular media circus,” added Phyllis, adjusting her harlequin glasses.

“Well, it’s a big story,” said Lucy. “Where shall I start?”

“On the warrant, I guess,” said Ted.

“The warrant? I thought you wanted me to do research over at the courthouse?”

“That’s going to have to wait. Town meeting is next week,” he said, speaking faster as he counted the issues off on his fingers. “We’ve got to print the warrant, and we’ve got to provide some budget analysis for the voters. They want a new police station for nine million dollars, for Pete’s sake. Can the town really afford that? And what about the roof on the high school? That thing leaks like a sieve, but will voters go for an override that will raise their taxes? You’ve got to talk to the town manager, the selectmen, get their input. What’s top priority? What can wait?”

Lucy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The biggest story to hit the town in years had fallen in their laps, and she was stuck writing about the town budget. “Okay,” she said, hoping to negotiate a better deal. “Say I get this done lickety-split. How about I work on the lawsuit research this afternoon?”

“Sure, sure,” said Ted, reaching for his Windbreaker and pulling the hood over his head and dashing for the back door. “I’ve got to get to Gilead.”

“Be careful out there,” advised Phyllis, who was a big
Hill Street Blues
fan.

Lucy knew Ted was right. The shooting was a sensational attention grabber, but the town meeting’s votes on the budget would impact taxpayers long after Tina and Bar were forgotten. She sat down at her desk, with a sigh, and flipped on the computer, where she found the town warrant waiting for her in her e-mail.

“Don’t forget you have to format it,” said Phyllis. “You can’t copy and paste directly from e-mail. It comes out all weird.”

“So it seems,” said Lucy, watching the warrant dissolve into scattered words and phrases on her screen, which she would have to round up with her mouse. “I see a painful case of carpal tunnel syndrome in my future.”

The peanut butter and jelly sandwich she’d had for lunch was just a memory when Lucy finally had the warrant in printable shape. She was just reaching for the phone to call the chairman of the board of selectmen when the police scanner began cackling and all units were ordered to the high school.

“Something’s up,” she told Phyllis at the same time she was making sure her camera and notebook were in her bag. “Hopefully, it won’t take long, and I’ll be right back.”

“You go, girl,” said Phyllis. “If you have to call, use my cell number.”

“Got it.”

Lucy felt like a member of the French underground as she stuck her head out the back door to check that the coast was clear, then remembered her car was parked on Main Street, right in front of the office. She hurried through the alleyway between the storefronts and dashed for her car, but she wasn’t approached by anyone, and no microphones were shoved in her face. The reason became clear when she arrived at the high school, where trucks with satellite dishes lined the driveway and yellow tape had been strung around the building in an effort to keep reporters from harassing teachers and students.

Students who crossed the yellow line, however, were fair game, and a good number of students had decided to seek their fifteen minutes of fame when the dismissal bell rang, setting up a media feeding frenzy. The arrival of a squad car with blinking lights and blaring siren caught everyone’s attention, and the chase was on as the pack took up pursuit, following it to the baseball field, where all the players and most of the viewers were engaged in a giant brawl.

Fists and elbows were flying; kids were pushing and shoving; there were grunts, groans, and a great deal of swearing. The coaches and a handful of male teachers were attempting to restore order but weren’t making much progress; Lucy saw Sara’s science teacher take a knock in the chest before he grabbed two students by their collars and dragged them out of the fray. Tommy Stanton and Chad Mackenzie were in the middle, staggering around together like two boxers in the twelfth round. Some of the players had grabbed bats and were swinging them; one kid had the bright idea of throwing a trash barrel into the melee.

The sight stopped Lucy in her tracks. Recalling Sara’s announcement at breakfast that she was planning to watch Chad play, she immediately began looking for her daughter and found her, along with Sassie and Renee and a few other cheerleaders, huddled beside the refreshment stand. Their faces were white with shock, and some, including Sara, were crying.

“Are you guys all right?” she asked, taking her daughter in her arms.

“Chad’s in there!” exclaimed Sara. “He’s gonna get killed!”

“The cops are here. It will be all right,” said Lucy, fumbling in her bag and producing a rather dusty, crumpled tissue. “Here. Wipe your eyes and tell me what happened. What’s it all about?”

“Tommy started it,” said Sara. “Tommy Stanton.” Lucy wasn’t sure whether this was the truth or if Sara was simply eager to pin the blame on somebody other than Chad.

“Is that true?” she asked the others.

“A guy on the Sharon team hit a high fly,” said Sassie. “Tommy plays outfield, and he had it. He was right under it.”

“But Chad—he’s a second baseman—he ran back and got in his way, and they both missed the ball, and Tommy and Chad started fighting, and Sharon got four runs,” said Renee.