Karen MacInerney - Margie Peterson 01 - Mother's Day Out (16 page)

  I rolled into the Green Meadows parking lot five minutes early—on time twice in one day!—and spent two of them practicing facial expressions in the rearview mirror.  What I was going for was the “Everything is just fine and your Daddy didn’t lie about knowing a murdered transvestite and isn’t hiding money from your mommy” look.  I settled on a smile that I hoped wasn’t too strained and stepped out of the car, right into Lydia Belmont.

“Oh.  Hello.”  Every inch of her professionally tanned, expensively manicured and stylishly slender figure tensed.  The nostrils of her aquiline nose flared slightly, as if she’d gotten a whiff of something, or someone, nasty.

“Hi,” I said.  My carefully rehearsed facial expression melted off of my face.  “I heard you found one of my work photos in the school pictures.  Did Mrs. Bunn get a chance to explain it to you?”

“Explain why you’re walking around with disgusting photographs? Need I remind you that this is a school?”

“I know it’s a school, and I’m mortified that that photo got in there.”  I swallowed.  “But it’s not what you think.  I’m a private investigator, Lydia.  It was proof for an infidelity case.”

Her penciled eyebrows rose.  “Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” she huffed.  “You can call your… your
perversion
whatever you want to, but I will not have my daughter exposed to such influences!”

“It was an accident.  I promise it won’t happen again.”

“No, I should think not.  In fact, I’m determined to see that it doesn’t.”  She took a breath, and her nostrils quivered.  “That’s why I’ve started a petition.”

I stepped backward.  “A petition?”

“Yes.  A petition.  This is a private school, and the parental body should be able to choose who we allow to attend.”

“Who we allow…”

“And that is why I have started a petition that would allow the removal of influences we deem unsafe for our children.”

I clenched my fists.  “You mean you’ve started a petition to have my children expelled?”

“That is correct, Mrs. Peterson.  Now, if you will excuse me, I need to retrieve my daughter.”

Heat rose to my cheeks as she strode toward the school gate, her Dooney and Bourke handbag bouncing against her bony hip.  Lydia Belmont was trying to have my children expelled from Green Meadows Day School.  And her husband was one of Blake’s coworkers.

On the plus side, I thought as I trailed her to the gate, at least Attila was on my side.

For now.

Elsie and Nick raced toward me as I entered the playground area.  “Mommy!” Nick hollered, his Stride Rites churning up the pea gravel, Elsie tripping along behind him in pink strappy sandals.  For a moment, as my kids wrapped themselves around my legs and hugged me as if I were the only thing that mattered, everything that was going wrong in my life—Lydia, Evan Maxted, Green Meadows Day School, even my troubles with Blake—faded away. 

Then Elsie burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Her little face was mottled from crying.  “Cherie… Cherie says our family is a bunch of perbers!”

“Perbers?” I looked up and focused on Cherie.  Her mother, Lydia, glared at me and threw a protective arm around her before hustling her away.  Perbers. 
Perverts
.

My eyes scanned the playground, searching for one of the kids’ teachers, focusing finally on Nick’s teacher, who was stationed by the porch steps.  “Mrs. Lawson? Could you keep an eye on Nick and Elsie for a moment? There’s something I need to discuss with Mrs. Bunn.”

Mrs. Lawson, a kindly looking woman in flowing, gauzy fabrics, smiled at me. “Sure.”  I bent down and kissed Elsie’s wet cheek.  “I’ll be back in a moment, sweetheart.”  Then I gave Nick’s arm a quick squeeze.  “Mommy has to go into the office for a few minutes.  Will you stay with Mrs. Lawson?”  He nodded, his blue eyes wide.

I shepherded them over to the porch steps and marched to the office.  Mrs. Bunn was alone behind the front desk.  I slammed the door behind me.

“I’ve got a big problem, Mrs. Bunn.”

Attila’s bushy black eyebrows rose in surprise.  “Oh? What is it?”

“My daughter is in tears because Cherie Belmont is calling our family a bunch of perverts.  And Cherie’s mother just informed me in the parking lot that she’s putting together a petition to have Elsie and Nick expelled.”

Attila shifted uncomfortably in her chair.  “Yes, well, she was quite upset over the photograph.”

“Upset? So what? I explained the photograph to you.  It was a mistake.  Are you going to let them tar and feather my children because of a small error?”

Mrs. Bunn shrugged.  “Unfortunately, I have no control over Mrs. Belmont’s actions.”

“Okay.  Maybe not.  But you can sure as heck make sure her daughter isn’t spreading nasty rumors about my family on the playground.”

She sighed.  “I’ll talk to the teachers this afternoon.”

“What about the petition?”

“I’m afraid the petition is out of my hands.  While you’re here, though, I wanted to give you a copy of the key to the office.”

“What?”

“So you can commence your investigation.”

“Oh, yes.  The investigation.”  I crossed my arms.  “I’d be happy to look into things for you—and to keep it quiet—but I need something in return.”

Mrs. Bunn’s jowly face stiffened.  “What do you mean?”

“I need you to talk to Mrs. Belmont and put a stop to this.”

“To the petition?”

I nodded.

The whiskers on her chin bristled as she shook her head.  “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“That’s too bad.”  I turned and put my hand on the doorknob.  “With everything that’s been going on in my life, I’m afraid I may not be able to start the investigation for another couple of weeks.  Maybe even a few months.”

“A few months?”

My hand turned the knob.  Mrs. Bunn let out an exasperated sigh.  “All right.  I’ll talk to her.  But I can’t make any promises.”

“What about the teasing?”

“As I mentioned earlier, I’ll be discussing the matter with the children’s teachers this afternoon.”

“Good.”  I walked back to the desk and she handed me a set of keys.  I couldn’t believe it. Mrs. Bunn had just agreed to run interference for Elsie and Nick. 

“All the financial files are in here.”  She gestured toward an imposing file cabinet that could easily have worked as an anchor for the
Titanic
.  I gritted my teeth.  Victory didn’t come without a price. 

“I’ll get started this weekend, then.”

“Marvelous.  But there’s one more thing, Mrs. Peterson.”

“What?”

“I spoke with my friend Dr. Lemmon yesterday.  Apparently you haven’t called to schedule an appointment for your daughter yet.”

I bit my lip.  “I’ll call this afternoon.”

I retrieved Elsie and Nick from beneath Mrs. Lawson’s wing and held their hands tightly as we trotted to the parking lot.  “I’m sorry that happened to you today, Elsie.  I’ve just spoken with Mrs. Bunn, and your teachers are going to make sure nobody calls you any more names.”

She sniffled.  “What’s a perber, Mommy?”

Christ
. “Whatever it is, it’s not very nice.  The important thing is that you know that it doesn’t matter what other people say.  You’re a wonderful, kind, smart little girl.”  I gave her small hand a squeeze.  “And when people say mean things to you, all it does is tell you something about them.”

“What do you mean, Mommy?”

“It tells you that they’re not good people to have as friends.”

“Oh.” 

I buckled Elsie and Nick into their car seats and exited the driveway right behind Lydia Belmont’s silver Mercedes SUV.  It was all I could do not to slam the gas pedal and smash into her sparkling bumper.  I limited myself to sticking my tongue out at her as she turned right.

As I maneuvered the minivan out of the parking lot, Elsie piped up from the back seat.  “Why did you stick your tongue out at that lady’s car, Mommy?”

“Did I? Oh, I must have been thinking about something else.”

THIRTEEN

The phone started ringing the moment the front door closed behind me.  I raced into the kitchen and picked it up halfway through the fourth ring.

“Hello?”

“Margie?”

“Becky.  What’s up?”

“Lydia Belmont just called me and asked me to sign a petition to have Elsie and Nick expelled from Green Meadows.  What’s going on?”

I sank into one of the kitchen chairs, thinking of the discovery I’d made in Blake’s office. 
Oh, not much.  Just my marriage is falling apart, that’s all
.  Instead, I said, “Remember that photo of Pence I told you about?”

“You mean Mr. Saran Wrap?”

“Yeah.  I accidentally left a copy in with the pictures from the school picnic.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.  And guess who found it.”

Becky groaned.  “I can’t believe it.”

“On the plus side, Attila promised she’d try to talk her out of it.”

“Attila? As in Attila the Bunn?”

“The very same.”

“How did you manage that?”

“Don’t ask.” 
And don’t ask about Blake, either
.  I forced a light tone to my voice.  “By the way, are you going to the Junior League Fashion Show?”

“What does that have to do with Lydia Belmont?”

“Nothing.  I got roped into going, and I was hoping you’d be there, too.  They put me next to Prue.”

“Did you tell her about your new job yet?”

“What do you think?”

“I didn’t think you had.”  She sighed.  “I guess I have to go, then.  Otherwise you might end up in jail for matricide.  Or do they call it something different when it’s your mother-in-law?”

“Self-defense?” Becky laughed.  “You wouldn’t believe what she gave me the other night,” I said.

“What? A lecture on the importance of Kegels?”

“It’s much worse.  When we were in the bathroom, she handed me two books.  One’s a cookbook—that Nigella Lawson one,
How to be a Domestic Goddess
.”

“So?”

“The other’s a sex manual.”

 A snort sounded from the other end of the phone line.  “Oh, my God.  She didn’t.”

“She did.”  My voice wobbled through the forced gaiety.  “And if things don’t work out for Blake and me, I’ll donate them to you.”  Tears gathered in the corners of my eyes. 

Becky was silent for a moment.  “What do you mean, ‘if things don’t work out?’”

A wave of anger and despair swelled up in me.  I was aching to talk to someone, to have someone tell me everything was going to be okay, even though I knew it wasn’t. I checked to make sure the kids were out of earshot.  “I think Blake is hiding something from me,” I whispered into the phone.

“Hiding something? You mean he’s having an affair?”

“I don’t know.”  A lump expanded in my throat, squeezing my words.  “He said he didn’t know Evan Maxted, but he was one of his clients.  And now there’s missing money.”

“Oh my God.  You poor thing.  How much? How did you find out?”

“I snuck into his office and went through the files.  He got a raise in January, but he never told me about it.  When he deposits the checks, he takes a thousand dollars off the top.”

Becky sucked in her breath.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” I said, my voice thick.  “Blake always seemed so solid, so dependable.  And now this…”

“Have you said anything to him?”

“How could I? I’ve hardly seen him.  He’s at work all the time.  At least that’s what he says.”

“Well,” she said slowly, “on the plus side, you’re now a private investigator.”

“I know.”  I took a shuddery breath.  I couldn’t control my husband’s actions.  But what I could do was find out everything I could about what was going on.  Then I’d confront him with everything I’d discovered, and if he couldn’t come up with a good answer… “I’ve already been to Maxted’s apartment,” I said.  My voice was surprisingly firm.

“You what?”

“And I was thinking about going into Blake’s office at Jones McEwan one night, to see what I can find out.”

“Isn’t that illegal?”

“I also want to go to Maxted’s office.”

“That’s
definitely
illegal.”

“Not if I go asking them to handle a shipment for me.”  The pain receded a bit as I tackled the problem, allowing my mind to sift through the possibilities.  Still there, still waiting, but no longer engulfing me.  “Isn’t your brother in the shipping industry?”

“Michael?”

“Yeah.  Think he could give me a few tips, so that I can sound convincing?”

“You know, maybe you’re taking this private investigator stuff too seriously.”

 “Becky, my husband lied about knowing a murder victim and is hiding money from me,” I hissed.  “Unless I tell the police about everything—and I don’t want to do that when I don’t know what’s going on myself—it’s up to me to figure out what’s going on.”  I gripped the phone so hard it hurt.  “And I
need
to know.”

She sighed.  “I guess you’re right.  I’ll call Michael this afternoon.”

“Thanks.”  A growl sounded from behind the laundry room door.  “By the way, do you want a cat?”

“A cat?”

I eyed Rufus, who hadn’t left his post by the door.  “Never mind.”

Becky promised to call me back as soon as she’d talked to her brother, and told me to call her if I needed anything at all.  “I’m sure it will all work out,” she said.

I wasn’t, but I thanked her anyway.  Then I hung up the phone and pulled out the yellow pages to look up Dr. Lemmon’s number.  I needed to stay busy, keep my mind from diving back into the nightmare that was my marriage.  Besides, I might as well get it over with.

I was about to pick up the phone and dial when it rang again.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Peterson?”

“Speaking.”

“This is Detective Bunsen.  I left a message for you yesterday.”

My body went cold.  “Oh, yes.  Sorry.  I hadn’t had a chance to call you back yet.  How’s the investigation going?”

“We need to schedule a time to talk, Mrs. Peterson.”

I swallowed.  “You mentioned that in your message.  I’m afraid things are really busy right now.”  What with my husband being a lying snake, and all.  “Can we try for sometime next week?”