School Board Murder

Send in the Clones This silence meant trouble. My usual loquaciousness came from a proud heritage, handed down from both sides of the family. Yet the three of us--my parents and I--had nothing to say to one another as we drove to the school board meeting. What we now shared--in addition to this heavy silence--was a fear of the unknown. Plus the realization that my father's fate was no longer in his own hands, but rested on the red-painted lips of decidedly unbalanced Sylvia Greene, president of the Carlton school board. Outside my car window, the leaves of the trees and shrubs were resplendent in their full array of autumnal colors, only partially cloaked by the darkness of evening. Normally, my parents would be leaving their home here in upstate New York to spend the winter in Florida. All that had changed last year when my father became so fed up with the sniping among school board members that he ran for a seat himself--and won. I shifted my vision to the back of my father's head and smiled at a memory, now many years old, of when my children had drawn a happy face on his bald spot while he napped. Their peals of laughter had awakened him and alerted me to drop everything and run into the room, where I gasped at what Nathan and Karen had done.... My reverie switched to a fantasy, with me marching up to the front of the mini-auditorium that, even now, we were fast approaching. I would grab that fetid prune, Sylvia Greene, by the collar and shout, "You can't do this to Charlie Peterson, because he's my father! Because when my children drew a face on his scalp with Magic Marker, he just laughed and helped them add a mustache and a goatee. And because he's three times the human being you could ever hope to be!" "Do you think she's bluffing?" my mother asked as we pulled into the parking lot of the Education Center. "No, but all I can say is she's wrong about me," Dad answered. Mom had asked this question many times since Sylvia had threatened him at last month's meeting. "The most despicable thing I've done was to register as a Republican." "Why did you do that, anyway, Dad?" Some of my best friends were Republicans, including my husband, but Dad had always been a staunch Democrat. He glanced at me through the rearview mirror. The lines around his eyes and beneath his white eyebrows were deeply drawn. Even in the small view afforded by the mirror, it was clear what a toll this battle had taken on him. "I wanted to vote in their primaries. The courts must use their registration lists, though, because now I keep getting called to jury duty." He shut off the engine, then sat still, staring at the monolithic Ed Center, soon to become a lion's den. "Serves me right." "Well, Dad," I said, "I guess if Sylvia does divulge that you registered as a Republican, we'll just have to relocate overseas. That is, if we can find a country that would accept us, despite your checkered past." Dad sighed and patted my mother's shoulder. She was also in no hurry to leave the car. "Really, Linda, there are no illegitimate children or mistresses in my past. I've given her no cause to kick me off the board." Mom ran her hand through her salt-and-pepper hair. "I believe you, Charlie. It's just that I'm afraid she'll make something up." "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it. Together. Just like always." Resolved, the three of us got out of the car, but Dad immediately became distracted by the sight of the left front tire. "Linda? Why didn't you tell me the pressure in your tires was low? We could have taken my car instead." I glanced at the tire in question and saw only that it appeared to be reasonably round. Mom straightened and fired one of her patented icy stares in my father's direction. At nearly five-eleven, she couldO'Kane, Leslie is the author of 'School Board Murder' with ISBN 9780449005675 and ISBN 0449005674.