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Planners, Poison & the PTA
Planners, Poison & the PTA
Planners, Poison & the PTA
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Planners, Poison & the PTA

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A suburban mom’s routine life is shattered when one of her fellow PTA officers is found dead.

Sydney Yoshida spends her day organizing car pool schedules, being both soccer and cheer squad mom, VP of the PTA and an active member of her planner groups. When she isn’t working hard to keep everyone’s schedules up to date with stickers, washi tape and page flags, she is micromanaging every other aspect of her family’s life. Her stale routine has left her feeling bored with life. Nothing exciting ever happens within the quiet walls of their gated community. Even her husband finds her as boring as her grocery lists. Everything changes when the PTA treasurer is found dead. When her best friend Beth becomes the prime suspect, Sydney and Peter team up to find out the truth. As the clues pile up, Sydney starts to wonder if Beth is just a convenient suspect, or is she being framed? Could she even be guilty?

Through the use of Peter’s connections and Sydney’s talents at organization and planning, the couple unravel a nasty mystery hidden within their perfect neighborhood. Will Sydney and Peter grow closer as they work to stop a killer, or will one of them be the next victim?

LanguageEnglish
PublisherLaurie Tom
Release dateJul 13, 2016
ISBN9781311636447
Planners, Poison & the PTA

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    Planners, Poison & the PTA - Laurie Tom

    Planners, Poison &the PTA

    A Stanford Falls Mystery

    Laurie Tom

    Copyright © 2016 by Laurie Tom

    Smashwords Edition

    Smashwords Edition, License Notes

    This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork herein is prohibited.

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events and/or persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental. Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are the property of their respective owners and are used for reference only and not an implied endorsement. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

    Dedication:

    Marshall, you will forever be my always.

    CHAPTER ONE

    Can I smack her, Sydney? Beth, president of the PTA, whispered in my ear as we placed copies of the agenda, treasurer’s report, and the last meeting’s minutes at each seat around Trisha’s expansive dining room table.

    Beth was a petite brunette with navy blue eyes and an angelic face who seemed to float when she walked. She was my best friend for the better part of my life. We were roommates in college, we shared our first apartment and served as maid of honor in each other’s weddings.

    No. I giggled. Let me do it. I don’t want you to get impeached.

    Do it, I dare you! Beth laughed just as Trisha came in.

    If you two are done playing, the rest of the board will be here in less than five minutes, and we still have refreshments to set up, Trisha practically hissed. She was the treasurer of the PTA, a real estate agent, and one of the more aggressive members of the team. She was also much taller than the rest of us, platinum blonde, with big sapphire blue eyes. She would have been completely stunning, super model stunning, if she hadn’t always had a scowl on her face.

    She turned and waltzed back into the kitchen. Beth and I watched her disappear around the corner.

    We better get in there and help the Queen of Mean before she releases the flying monkeys, I said as I headed towards the kitchen. I liked Trisha, but her dictatorship was starting to wear thin.

    What needs to be brought out, Trish? Beth asked.

    She turned and looked at the overabundance of platters on the counter. Those, perhaps? she said while looking at us like we were complete idiots.

    I loved Trish’s kitchen. It was spacious, bright and looked like it could be an Italian restaurant. The walls were a warm orange yellow. A central island had an exhaust hood that hung down over the gas cook top. The cabinets were a dark stained ash with open shelves on both the walls and the island. I picked up two of the yellow and blue platters filled to the brim with antipasto, cold cuts and a huge selection of cheeses. I sampled a piece of smoked gouda. Beth grabbed a platter of assorted olives and pickles, a basket of rolls, and the silver condiment serving tray. Trish always overdid it with the food when we met at her house. It was like going to an Italian wedding. We were never sure if she was just indulging her Italian heritage or showing off. Trish followed close behind with three bowls of various pasta salads. Once the food was out on the buffet, we brought out the drinks. Just then Emmy came in.

    Hi peeps, she chirped. Emmy was a tiny wisp of a thing, with huge brown eyes and a petite face. If there were anyone that looked like they could be a direct descendant of the Fae, it was definitely Emmy. She breezed into a room like a whirlwind. To say she was bubbly was a gross understatement.

    What can I do to help? she asked as she dumped her purse and tote bag on the floor beside her place at the table.

    We’re just bringing out the drinks and desserts, I said, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

    Here, give me a hand with this. Beth dragged Emmy into the kitchen.

    Beth and I had an unspoken rule to keep Emmy away from Trisha as much as possible. We weren’t sure if it was her personality or just maliciousness, but it seemed to us that Trisha took great pleasure in bursting Emmy’s bubble at every turn. Maybe it was because Trish felt superior to Emmy, or maybe Emmy represented everything that Trisha thought was wrong with women.

    As Emmy put the coffee carafe onto the buffet, the rest of the board showed up. Everyone took their places around the table. We sat in order of rank: Beth, the president, me the vice president, and Trisha the treasurer on one side, Jessica the secretary, Christine the volunteer coordinator and Emmy the spirit chair on the other side. This was something we only did at Trisha’s house, since she insisted we follow some old meeting rule book she’d had since college. She was a stickler for protocol. I often wondered if her very British husband married her because she was this way, or if she was this way because she married her husband. Trisha and John met while they were both in college. Trish had taken a fall semester at Oxford University where John attended. One class together, and the rest was history.

    The agenda and minutes from the last meeting were read and approved quickly so that we could move on.

    We spent a good amount of time discussing the upcoming teacher’s appreciation day, the football booster rally and approved refinishing the stage floors.

    Next we moved onto the budget, which was always a controversial subject. Especially since we all wanted money for our own programs.

    I propose that we use the money from the Fall Carnival to throw a huge glamorous spring formal, Christine suggested. We should make it look like a fairy garden with lots of pastel flowers and twinkly lights.

    No, it needs to go towards the winter theater production, Trisha said.

    Wait, what? chirped Emmy. Weren’t we going to use the bulk of it for Spirit Week? We did go minimal last year because we used the funds to build the new sports equipment shed and retile the showers in the locker rooms.

    Seriously, Emmy, the kids will be happy with face paints and crazy hats, Trisha said in a cold clipped tone that usually kept Emmy’s enthusiasm at bay.

    Jessica looked at her notes. Actually, we did say that we were going to use quite a chunk of the funds to make Spirit Week stellar this year.

    I added, Also, keep in mind the survey that Emmy took last spring. Half of the middle school and all of the high school wanted to do something different. Even Lexi mentioned that the assemblies were like birthday parties for babies.

    Beth said, So let’s vote on it then – half of it goes to Spirit Week, the other half towards the winter theater production, and we plan another huge fund raiser for the Spring Formal. Does that work for everyone? Heads nodded. All in favor say, ‘Aye’.

    All but Trisha said, ‘Aye.’

    So the Ayes have it, Beth announced and looked relieved that this matter was finally voted on and put to bed.

    Trisha leaned back in her chair, arms folded and just glared at all of us. Emmy, on the other hand, tried to hide her smug smile behind her coffee mug. I had to kick myself in the ankle to keep from laughing. I could tell when Trisha was furious. But this time, she grabbed her inhaler and drew a long breath from it. That was the only time I had seen her use it. Apparently her asthma attacks were triggered by intense emotions. We knew Trisha had severe asthma and had an inhaler or two with her at all times.

    Everything else in the meeting went smoothly; tasks were delegated, checks were signed, and plans were made. The meeting was wrapped up with everyone partaking of the buffet. The ladies chatted until it was close to ten o’clock.

    Emmy said, Paul is coming home tonight and I need to make sure the house is presentable. He’s home so rarely that I want things to be perfect for him.

    Where is he flying from? I asked.

    Japan, and then he has about two weeks off from commercial flights.

    I don’t know how you handle being married to a pilot, Beth interjected. I would be nuts if Tim was gone all the time.

    I got up to hug Emmy and walked her to the door.

    She wasn’t completely horrible tonight, I said.

    I chose not to let her bother me. Besides, Paul is going to be home soon, and Paige and I can’t wait to see him. Paige was Emmy and Paul’s daughter. She was sixteen and one of my daughter’s cheer squad buddies. I watched Emmy walk to her car.

    Hey Em, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, I joked.

    If I do, I’ll name it after you. Emmy giggled and blushed. She got into her car and started it.

    I went back into the dining room where Christine and Jessica volunteered to help Trisha clean up since Beth and I helped with the set up. It worked for me. I was tired.

    Walk you home, crazy lady? Beth handed me my purse.

    Sure thing. I laughed.

    We said our goodbyes, grabbed our stuff and went out the front door.

    Beth and I stepped out into the night air. We walked down the path from Trish’s front door to the sidewalk. I looked back towards Trisha’s house. There was only one light on upstairs. Either Derek or Lauren were still up. Probably studying. Derek was in the eleventh grade and on the football team, while Lauren was a sophomore and on the cheer squad with our girls.

    Our gated neighborhood was so pretty at night with the tree lined streets, old fashioned black wrought iron street lights, and the warm glow from the various windows.

    Well, we got through another meeting without a cat fight, Beth said as she slung her tote bag over her shoulder.

    Yep, I really thought that Jessica and Trisha were going to get into it for a minute there.

    That would be interesting to watch. Beth laughed. Jessica is so not afraid of Trish.

    I nodded. Not like Emmy is.

    Poor Emmy, Trisha only goes after her because it gets Trish her way.

    Very true. Do you think as president you should tell Trish to lay off a little bit?

    Nah, it will just make her come down on Emmy harder, and she has already started to go after Chris. Did you see how she mocked Chris’s planner videos? If Trish keeps that up, it won’t be pretty.

    Oh, she doesn’t want to do that. Christine may look meek, but she will tear Trish apart.

    Chris made videos for YouTube about planners, decorating them, organizing them, and using them to their best advantage. She had a huge audience. Over the past year, I'd been thrown into the underground world of day planners. Little did most of the world know, but there were women everywhere who bought multiple planners, decorated them with stickers and chatted all day long about them in special Facebook groups dedicated to the hobby. I thought of my book shelf full of planner binders. How it had come to this, I couldn't tell you. But planners had become the suburban mom's crack, and I was a confirmed junkie.

    ****

    We walked towards Beth’s house, and I saw that my husband, Peter had opened the garage door and he was pretending to look for something in there. He did this anytime I was out for the evening. He always managed to have Mocha and Latte in the garage with him. They were my teacup Yorkshire Terriers and two tiny bundles of fluffy joy. They always noticed me as I walked Beth home and started yipping their little heads off.

    We stopped at Beth’s mailbox and stood there for a few minutes talking about the rest of the weekend.

    I’m getting ready for the planner group get-together on Monday, I said.

    Oh, I’ll be there. Am I still bringing the coffee cake, or do you need me to bring something different?

    No, coffee cake is good. You make the best coffee cake. Do you remember that coconut one you made about six years ago?

    You remember that?

    Yeah, it was my most favorite thing on earth, I said, almost tasting the coconut.

    Okay, I’ll look for the recipe; I think I have it somewhere.

    I grabbed Beth in a hug. I knew I loved you for a reason.

    I suspected it had something to do with my baked goods. You want to come in and have some coffee or something, or do you need to get home?

    We both know that the minute I take one step past your mailbox, Mocha and Latte are going to start yipping their little heads off, so I better not. That and I have to deal with Bri and her grades tonight.

    I don’t envy you that, Beth said and hugged me.

    I started across the street to my own house. The second my feet hit the pavement, the dogs went off like super charged play toys.

    I walked into my garage to find Peter holding them. No surprise there. Peter gave me a peck on the cheek while the pups squirmed so much he almost dropped them.

    How was the meeting? He handed Mocha to me and took my purse. I took my tote bag off of my shoulder and handed it over in exchange for Latte. I snuggled both of them as we headed into the house, and Peter hit the garage door switch.

    A nightmare, I said, kicking off my shoes. Trisha was in a mood, so of course Emmy and Chris took the brunt of it. We have to be careful to allocate the funds we do have for each event, and the committee chairs are freaking out. We still need to raise half of the money to pay that theater group to come in and work with the kids.

    Well that’s a bummer. I could always write you a check to cover the balance.

    No, don’t be silly. We donate to the PTA every year, and they get hours of my time each week. We’ll figure it out.

    Sure thing, just remember I offered, Peter said as he put my purse down.

    And you’re a wonderful man for offering. I grinned up at him.

    Peter was tall with jet black hair and eyes. He worked hard and was an amazing pediatrician, but we didn’t need to give more money to the school. We already paid tuition for both of our girls and donated our time and money. There was no reason we needed to cover everything that the PTA couldn’t pay for.

    ****

    Oh God, that coffee smells so good, Peter! I exclaimed, hopefully changing the subject. I poured sweet cream into my favorite ‘Planners Gotta Plan’ mug and filled the rest of it with coffee.

    I leaned my back against the island and took a deep sip. It was rich with just the right amount of sweetness. I looked around the kitchen that I loved so much, with its white cabinets, French buttery yellow walls and blue granite counter tops that we had imported from Norway. It was our one big splurge when we chose the finishes for the house. I thought about the day we moved in, how using a ladder, electronic level and a tape measure, Peter had hung all of my blue and white plates up with the precision of an engineer. I looked at him as he was foraging through the pantry looking for some cookies, and I couldn’t help but smile.

    We lived in a small close-knit community with its own private school and park. Stanford Falls was a great place to live, more like a village than a town. I could get from my house to the grocery store in less than seven minutes, the school was less than two minutes by car, and we could even walk to the emergency room if we had to. We called it the Stanford Falls bubble. Everyone knew each other, and most of us were involved with either the school or one of its sports teams.

    I lived in what was commonly called a McMansion, one of those semicustom homes that are at least 3,500 square feet in size. We were very involved stay-at-home moms. We carried our planners and other essentials in designer purses and ordered our custom coffee drinks at exactly 140 degrees. I kept busy though, driving my girls, Lennox and Brianna (AKA: Lexi and Bri) from their various activities. I spent hours upon hours working with the PTA as their vice president. When I wasn’t doing that, I was doing something with one of the many planner groups I belonged to. My life was crazy busy, but it could be very boring. I kept wondering if perhaps I was bored because I actually was boring? Maybe that was why Peter spent all his time at home in his office. Maybe he found me about as exciting as a sponge. He rarely remembered anything I told him, as if he couldn’t be bothered to listen to me. I would be talking away at him only to look up and see that he was stacking the napkins on the counter into a perfect square, or he was playing with his phone. I felt like I was interrupting him by telling him about my day.

    Hey, would you be upset if I went back to my office? he asked.

    Sure, no, go ahead. I faked a smile and pulled my tote bag towards me, the disappointment clear in my voice. He didn’t notice.

    There was a desk area built into my kitchen where I did all of my planning and paperwork. The top two shelves were a rainbow of wall-to-wall planners. After I emptied my tote bag, I hung it up on one of the hooks on the side. The PTA binder went back on the shelf with my other binders. There was one for each of the kids, one for our house, one for my planner groups and of course the PTA VP binder. I plugged in my laptop and turned it on as I drank down my last gulp of coffee. I tossed my purse planner onto my desk and it landed with a thunk.

    All the dates and times swam around the page and promised a migraine, if I didn’t give my eyes a break, so I got up and walked down the hall to the girls’ rooms. Bri’s door was closed as usual. I opened it slightly and peeked inside. She was sprawled on her bed doing her homework, laptop open, Netflix streaming on her iPad, ear buds stuffed into her ears and frantically texting on her phone. I could have been an ax murderer and she would have never known it. Aside from looking like every clothing store within a hundred-mile radius had upended on her bedroom floor, her room was really pretty with Tiffany blue walls and the twinkly lights she had over her bed. It screamed girly girl. I backed out and closed the door, making a mental note to nag her about the state of her bedroom.

    Next I headed to Lexi’s room. Her door was wide open, and I peeked my head in. Her room was perfect except for the horrific smell coming from the sweat-soaked jerseys in her hamper. I definitely needed to find a way to eliminate that awful stench. In their usual polar opposite fashion, Lexi’s lights were blaring, the TV was off, the laptop closed and not a sound other than her light snoring and the sound of Latte chewing on her cleats. I went in and took the book off Lexi’s face, put it on her nightstand, pulled the covers up over her shoulders and pointed towards the door, which let the dogs know they had to leave the room. On my way out, I turned off the lights and closed the door halfway.

    With Latte padding along behind me, I returned to the kitchen, poured myself another cup of coffee, gave the dogs a treat and sat at my desk. This was the fun part about being a planner junkie – prettying up the pages while still maintaining their functionality. Using a pencil, I made sure that the appointments in my desk planner and my purse planner matched. Using my favorite bold point pens, I wrote down the new plans in ink – pink for Bri, purple for Lexi, green for Peter and teal for myself, and erased the ones written in pencil. After I had that all in, I pulled out my stickers and placed little phone stickers near the ‘call so and so’ list, little mail box stickers near the ‘mail this’ list, and my custom made ‘PTA’ stickers I used to designate my PTA tasks. I used a sticker to cover up a smudge and remind myself to talk to Bri about her grades.

    After all the important information was transferred into my planners, I put them away, picked up my coffee and checked my email.

    I spent the next half hour doing my nightly routine – checking email, visiting various planner blogs, Facebook groups and watched a few planner videos. Latte and Mocha were in their bed underneath my desk curled up into little puffs of black and brown fur. I yawned, and that got the dogs attention. Mocha began to bite my toes. Time for bed. I closed down my computer, turned off the little overhead light and rinsed out my coffee mug.

    I walked down the hall past Peter’s office and poked my head in.

    I’m going to bed, I said.

    Uh huh, he uttered, barely looking up.

    A half hour later, I was out like a light, with both dogs curled up beside me.

    ****

    The next morning, I padded around the kitchen in my gray bunny slippers, eyes half open, the smell of the freshly-brewed coffee assuring me that there was in fact a God, and He did want me to be happy. I grabbed a mug from the cabinet and filled it with coffee. I took a huge sip, not burning my lips because the massive amount of creamer cooled it down to a nice comforting toasty rather than burn-your-face-off hot. Peter shuffled into the kitchen, his bathrobe hanging open, the tie belt dragging on the dark wood floor, taking Latte and Mocha with it. Both dogs were latched onto the belt of the robe like it was public enemy number one and they needed to protect their mommy. Peter didn’t seem to notice.

    Morning, he mumbled, grabbing for his own coffee mug. You’re up early.

    Mm-hmm, carpool. I’m hauling all of Lexi’s friends to school this morning; they have an early soccer practice.

    Ah, is that a new thing? Peter asked.

    Not exactly. She has only had morning practice every Friday since school started, I snapped, irritated that he always acted like a routine event was a new thing. It just went to show me that he really didn’t pay attention to anything I told him.

    Six a.m. carpool makes you cranky and sarcastic.

    Yeah, I guess.

    What else is on your agenda today?

    "Not much – carpool, meet Beth for lunch and pedicures, I need to stop at the stationery store and then pick up a roast for dinner. Lennox has an orthodontist appointment after school. You know, the

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