Murder at the PTA Page 14

Sandra was struck by how poised and sweet Vanessa appeared to be. “We’re going out for pizza, Vanessa, would you like to join us?”

  “I can’t. My mom’s here,” Vanessa said, pointing behind Sandra.

  Sandra turned around. Maya stood down the hall, waiting by the exit door. She waved at them with a tentative smile.

  Sandra waved back. “Well, she’s welcome to join us.”

  She half expected Maya to say no to dinner, given the simmering tension between them after Sandra’s ill-advised undercover assignment and how she had to be rescued by Maya and her partner, Frances, but Maya was in a celebratory mood. Her daughter had killed it in the role of Minnie. Within twenty minutes, the four of them were at a long table with a checkered tablecloth, waiting on a large pepperoni pizza. Sandra and Ryan on one side, Maya and Vanessa on the other. Ryan’s and Vanessa’s hands were clasped together, resting on the table next to two shakers, one with Parmesan and the other with red pepper flakes. The two teenagers gazed into each other’s eyes and whispered private jokes to each other, giggling and cracking each other up as their mothers sat across from them, feeling completely excluded from the conversation.

  Sandra and Maya awkwardly smiled at each other, not knowing if they should attempt to try some small talk.

  Sandra finally turned to Vanessa and said, “Did you know your mother and I went to high school together?”

  Ryan seemed annoyed that Sandra was interrupting his quality time with Vanessa, but Vanessa politely nodded. “Yes, she told me.”

  “She knows we weren’t really friends,” Maya quickly added, before catching herself. “What I meant to say is, I mentioned that we ran in different circles.”

  There was an awkward silence.

  Sandra could only imagine how Maya must have described her when she was in high school. She was painfully aware of the kind of reputation the popular-cheerleader type probably had with the cooler students.

  Ryan’s cell phone buzzed on the table, and he glanced at the screen. “It’s Dad.” He scooped it up and answered. “Hey, Dad . . . Yeah, it was okay, but I messed up my lines.... No, seriously . . .”

  “His father is working in DC and couldn’t make it up for opening night,” Sandra said in an almost apologetic tone.

  Maya folded her arms on the table. “I understand. He is a very busy man.”

  A college-age waitress—with a gloomy face that couldn’t hide that she wished she were anywhere else—arrived with the pizza and set the tray down on top of a metal rack.

  “Careful, it’s hot,” she warned before grabbing the empty plastic pitcher on the table. “I’ll get you a refill of soda.”

  As she lumbered away, Sandra homed in on Ryan’s conversation with Stephen. “Her name’s Vanessa. . . . Uh-huh. . .”

  He was beaming now.

  “An eleven, definitely an eleven.”

  Sandra knew Stephen was asking about Vanessa’s looks on a scale of one to ten and didn’t appreciate it. Especially given recent events involving the now-shuttered Dirty Laundry site. She also didn’t like him encouraging his sons to objectify women, but that was a whole other matter.

  Vanessa, on the other hand, was loving every minute of it. She picked up the spatula that came with the pizza and adoringly served Ryan a slice on a paper plate first before dishing out one for herself. She then set the spatula down on the table, ignoring her mother and Sandra, who were left to serve themselves.

  Ryan finally looked up at Sandra. “Do you want to talk to Dad?”

  “No, I’ll call him when I get home,” Sandra said with a thin smile.

  “She’ll call you later,” Ryan said into the phone, before finishing up the conversation. “Love you too, Dad.” He ended the call, set his phone down on the table, and grinned at Vanessa. “My dad says hello.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him,” Vanessa purred, leaning in close enough to his face that he was able to steal a quick kiss on the bridge of her nose.

  Oh, to be a high school student and in love again.

  From that point on, Ryan and Vanessa were too into each other and their pizza to care about what their mothers had to say. They basically tuned them out, leaving Sandra and Maya to entertain each other.

  Maya was the one to break the ice first. “It must be difficult raising two boys when your husband is gone so much of the time.”

  Sandra had always been sensitive about how much time she and Stephen spent apart. But there was no judgment in Maya’s voice. She had a much tougher situation than Maya. Her husband was serving time in prison. At least Stephen made it home every other weekend.

  “It can be. Especially now when their hormones are raging like a category-five hurricane,” Sandra cracked.

  Maya chuckled, casually eyeing Vanessa, who was practically wrapped around Ryan at this point. “It’s not just the boys, believe me.”

  By the time the pizza disappeared, so did Ryan and Vanessa, who spotted some castmates at another table and bolted away from their mothers to go socialize with people their own age.

  Sandra’s discomfort around Maya seemed to melt away as the two women began communicating as mothers. Maya explained how hard it had been for both her and Vanessa after Max’s arrest and trial. As a politician’s wife, Sandra could relate to weathering a scandal, but she was amazed at Maya’s grace and fortitude as well as her single-minded determination to protect her daughter throughout the entire ordeal. For Maya’s part, she proved to be a sympathetic ear when Sandra finally opened up about the pain of the Dirty Laundry article, although she decided to remain mum about Stephen’s past infidelities. She was trained to keep uncomfortable truths that could hurt the family’s reputation in Washington tightly under wraps.

  Sandra sensed a bond slowly developing with Maya and felt obliged to say, “Listen, I want to apologize for the other night. You were right. I had no business running headlong into danger like that.”

  “No worries,” Maya said, waving it off.

  “No, really. I was extremely lucky you and Frances were there, otherwise . . .”

  “I understand. You want answers. So do I. That’s why I showed up at the rehearsal last night. I wasn’t just there to pick up Vanessa. I wanted to talk to Georgina Callis.”

  Sandra sat up, puzzled. “Georgina?”

  “Apparently she and Maisie Portman had a very contentious relationship.”

  “I heard there was a small kerfuffle last year over the spring musical . . .”

  “It was more than just a kerfuffle. They despised each other, and Georgina’s alibi on the night Maisie was killed is a bit wobbly. She was in her office alone.”

  “I had no idea. . . .”

  “She got very uptight the more I questioned her. She finally shut me down, but I have a feeling she has more to say. She’s just not going to say it to a private investigator.”

  “I can get her to talk,” Sandra said confidently.

  Maya raised an eyebrow. “How?”

  “Stephen and I have donated thousands of dollars to the theater department. We are big believers in the arts. In fact, our donation helped build that state-of-the-art theater where we just saw Hello, Dolly! tonight. In other words, Georgina owes me. Big-time.”

  Maya leaned forward on her elbows. “I’m listening. . . .”

  “Well, as a valued patron, I’m sure Georgina would feel obligated to answer a few questions, especially from a concerned mother and president of the PTA, at least for now anyway.”

  Maya grinned. “You sure are determined to be a detective, aren’t you?”

  “I just want to be helpful,” Sandra said, although she could tell Maya wasn’t buying any of it, because it was true. Sandra was hooked. “Georgina and I both take a cooking class on Saturday afternoons, which happens to be tomorrow. That will be the perfect time to grill her . . . pardon the pun.”

  Maya laughed heartily.

  Sandra felt a surge of excitement. After the debacle at the warehouse brothel, she now had a chance to prove herself aga
in to Maya, and she was not going to screw it up.

  The question was, however, why was it so important to her? Maya was almost a complete stranger, a woman she hadn’t really spoken to since high school and barely back then. Why was she so stubbornly firm in her resolve to show how capable she was? She knew she envied Maya’s investigative skills and coolness under pressure and wanted to be like her, but now there was a fondness growing for Maya too. Sandra was also anxious to prove her worth as a friend. Because at the end of the day, besides her husband and sons, she didn’t have a lot of friends.

  Close friends anyway.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Sandra made sure she secured the spot directly next to Georgina Callis at their Italian cooking class that was held every week at Luigi’s Ristorante in the Old Port. Today’s lesson was on how to make the perfect chicken Parmesan. Luigi, a larger-than-life bear of a man with a messy black beard with specks of gray, always showed up for class wearing all white, including his signature chef’s hat. He played the role of the Italian lover to the hilt by flirting with all the ladies in class, especially the older ones. But it was all in good fun, and no one ever called him out for being inappropriate.

  Luigi partnered up his students and assigned them to different workstations in the kitchen to handle the various stages of preparing the dish. Since Sandra was standing right next to Georgina, they were paired up and placed at the stove, where they would fry the chicken according to Luigi’s instructions after it was breaded by another team. Luigi took his time walking them all through the process, pontificating about the importance of seasoning the meat just right before adding the homemade tomato sauce and mozzarella cheese. And without fail, he would usually wind up telling a long colorful story from his childhood about growing up in Palermo and how he learned to cook from his beloved grandmother Carlotta.

  As Sandra and Georgina patiently waited for the breaded chicken to make its way to them and Luigi was preoccupied playfully complimenting a grinning, giggly seventy-five-year-old woman on her “sexy” new hairstyle, Sandra whispered to Georgina, “I just have to tell you, you did a wonderful job directing Hello, Dolly!”

  “Thank you so much,” Georgina said with a radiant smile.

  “Ryan has learned so much from you, and I appreciate the way you have cultivated his talent as an actor. He’s looking into applying to Juilliard next year.”

  “Well, he can count on me for a glowing recommendation. He is one of my best students. You should be very proud of him.”

  “We are. Stephen’s worried about how he will fare in the real world after high school. He thinks the competition is too fierce and Ryan should have some kind of backup plan just in case the acting doesn’t work out, but I have always believed in following your heart. And if acting is what the kid wants to do, then he should give it one hundred percent.”

  Georgina nodded, but it was obvious she was suddenly distracted.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  Sandra could tell Georgina wasn’t being truthful. In fact, she hadn’t even mentioned Maisie Portman yet, but she already had the feeling she had somehow upset Georgina.

  Georgina’s face was flushed red, and she was fidgety as Luigi arrived at the stove, and with great fanfare delivered the freshly breaded piece of chicken to the frying pan.

  “Now it looks like you have just the right amount of olive oil heating. You can also use butter if you wish, so let’s now cook the coated breast, about two minutes on each side, until golden. Not too much, because it will finish cooking in the oven. Why don’t you do the honors, my lovely Georgina?”

  Georgina took the freshly coated breast and carefully set it down in the sizzling oil. Then Luigi was off on another tangent, recounting the time as a boy he was on a bike ride and got caught in a thunderstorm and showed up at a house in a nearby village to get out of the rain and ended up cooking a seven-course meal for a family he had never met.

  “I think the last time I tried to make chicken Parmesan was for that potluck dinner that doubled as a fund-raiser for Mrs. Rossi’s Italian class to go to Rome,” Sandra said before casually adding, “Maisie Portman said it was the worst chicken Parmesan she had ever tasted.”

  Actually Sandra had made veal piccata and Maisie loved it, but it was not as good a segue, so she changed a few details.

  Then Sandra frowned and slowly shook her head. “Poor Maisie . . .”

  Georgina ignored her and kept her eyes fixed on the chicken and checked her watch, counting down the two minutes until she could turn the chicken breast over in the pan.

  “You know, there are rumors going around that Maisie didn’t commit suicide, that she was actually—”

  “Do we have to talk about this now? I’m trying to concentrate on the chicken Parmesan.”

  “I’m sorry, Georgina, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m not upset! Why would I be upset?”

  “Well, it’s no secret that you and Maisie had a somewhat checkered history.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “Nothing, I didn’t mean to imply anything. . . .”

  Georgina was now totally discombobulated and gestured wildly with her hands. “Why does everybody keep bringing up Maisie Portman to me? It’s not like I had anything to do with what happened to her! She was a lonely, miserable woman who hated her life and was tired of living it! End of story!”

  “But are you sure Maisie was that unhappy?”

  “I don’t care! I never want to hear that woman’s name again! Would you please stop bringing her up?”

  Sandra attempted to lower the temperature in the room.

  “Georgina, please forgive me. I always seem to put my foot in my mouth. My husband, Stephen, tells me it’s one of my greatest talents.”

  Sandra laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

  But it only seemed to distress Georgina even further.

  She was now a downright emotional mess.

  “I try to be a good person and live an honorable life, but no one is perfect, okay? We all have our secrets! I just can’t deal with this interrogation right now!”

  What was she talking about?

  Sandra had hardly even gotten the chance to ask any questions about Maisie yet, and Georgina was already losing it right in front of her.

  That’s when she noticed the smoke billowing up from the stovetop.

  Georgina had plumb forgot about the chicken.

  It was well past golden and heading straight for blackened.

  “Georgina!” Sandra cried, grabbing the spatula to scoop up the burning chicken from the hot oil.

  Georgina practically body-checked her and wrenched the spatula away from Sandra. She picked up the chicken and hurled it across the room to the sink. It missed and landed on the floor. Some hot oil splattered out of the pan and onto a dish towel Georgina had left right next to the burner, and it suddenly went up in flames. Georgina screamed and grabbed some pot holders to beat down the flames, but then the potholders ignited.

  Luigi was so busy wrapping up his long story he didn’t even notice the kitchen fire at first, but when the smoke alarms overhead began blaring, that finally caught his attention. Luigi ordered his students to evacuate as he first tried to snuff the fire out with one of his pot lids and, failing that, began pouring baking soda on it. Sandra tried to hand him a nearby fire extinguisher, but he refused, fearing it would contaminate his kitchen. Sandra decided to call 911 as she filed out of the restaurant with the rest of Luigi’s cooking students.

  Outside, Georgina purposely avoided Sandra as the five women and two men milled about waiting for the fire department to arrive.

  It was obvious in Sandra’s mind that Georgina Callis was definitely hiding something.

  The question was, what?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Sandra’s heart sank when she arrived at Maya’s office and spotted through the window on the door Maya’s partner, Frances, sitting across fr
om her on a small couch, her feet up on a weathered off-white ottoman, her hands resting on her big, round belly.

  Sandra considered doing an about-face and hightailing it out of there before knocking, but Maya, who was behind her desk, spotted her and was already standing up and crossing to the door.

  At least Maya smiled when she opened it to greet her.

  “Hello, Sandra.”

  It wasn’t exactly a warm welcome, more confused and tentative, but Sandra could tell Maya’s opinion of her had greatly improved after they bonded over pizza.

  Sandra kept an eye on Frances, who grimaced at the sight of her. “I don’t mean to bother you . . .”

  “No bother, come on in,” Maya said, stepping aside and ushering her inside.

  Sandra nodded at Frances and tried a breezy tone. “Hi, Frances!”

  Frances audibly groaned as Sandra swept into the office, but after a sharp look from Maya, she begrudgingly shrugged and grunted, “Hello.”

  It was clear Frances was annoyed by her presence, and so Sandra didn’t want to drag this out any longer than she had to, so she got right to the point. “I spoke to Georgina Callis at my cooking class today.”

  Maya closed the door and walked back behind her desk. “And?”

  “She got so upset over me questioning her that she nearly burned the whole restaurant down,” Sandra reported breathlessly.

  “Who is Georgina Callis?” Frances asked, slightly curious but not wanting to engage Sandra too much.

  “Drama teacher at the high school who had a very combative relationship with Maisie Portman,” Maya said before turning back to Sandra. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you,” Sandra answered.

  Frances tried sitting up on the couch, but her massive pregnant belly made it difficult, so she had to swing her feet off the ottoman, plant them on the floor, and use her hands to lift herself into a manageable position. “Wait a minute . . . why were you questioning her?”

  “I didn’t get anywhere trying to talk to her, so Sandra volunteered to give it a try, since she has a little political clout as the PTA president,” Maya said.