Murder at the Spelling Bee

Book 4: Maya and Sandra Mystery

by Lee Hollis

Genres: Amateur Sleuth; Female Sleuths; Mystery; Animal Cozy Mysteries

Synopsis

The murder of a moderator for a school competition spells trouble for Portland P.I. partners and moms Maya Kendrick and Sandra Wallage . . .

Twelve-year-old Rocco Fanelli is a spelling bee champ in the making. He’s the odds-on favorite to win the local middle-school bee and go on to the regionals, the state, and ultimately the nationals. Which is why someone is trying to intimidate him to drop out with a threatening note in his locker. Rocco’s concerned parents hire Maya and Sandra to uncover the culprit and ensure their son’s safety.

But the competition turns killer when a high school teacher who’s running the bee, clearly favoring certain students, is found dead in the school supply closet. Sandra had already confronted Ellie Lambert over unfairly grading her son Ryan—which now makes her a suspect.

She’s not the only one who tangled with the teacher, however, and with suspects ranging from helicopter parents to the school custodian, Maya and Sandra will need to put their heads together to spell out who had the motive and opportunity to silence Ellie Lambert . . .

Release date: May 21, 2024

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Someone is threatening my son,” Eugenio Fanelli said with a pained expression, squeezing the hand of his wife, Lucia, as they sat close together on the couch in the private detective offices of Maya Kendrick and Sandra Wallage.

Maya leaned back in her chair behind the desk. “How so?”

Eugenio glanced at his wife, who appeared to be near tears, and squeezed her hand before turning back to the two detectives. “There was a note left in his locker. He didn’t want us to know about it. But Lucia found it when she was picking up laundry in Rocco’s bedroom.”

Sandra, who was perched on top of the edge of Maya’s desk, leaned forward, clasping her hands in front of her. “What did the note say?”

Eugenio reached into his coat pocket and extracted a folded-up piece of paper, which he handed over to Sandra. She opened it to read the words Drop out or die scribbled in red ink.

Sandra raised her eyes, confused. “Drop out of what?”

Eugenio paused and took a deep breath before answering. “The South Portland Middle School Spelling Bee.”

Maya, who had just taken a sip from her mug of coffee, practically spat it out. “This is about a spelling bee?”

Eugenio nodded. “Yes. Last year Rocco placed second in the state competition, and this year he has been crushing his competition in all the early practice sessions. He is pretty much the odds-on favorite to go on to nationals.”

“I had no idea spelling bees were so cutthroat,” Sandra marveled.

“You have no idea,” Lucia mumbled, sniffing.

Sandra had never met the Fanelli family. Her own two sons were much older than Rocco, so their paths had never crossed at PTA meetings or any other school functions. Eugenio and Lucia were both compact-size people with dark hair and olive skin. Although Eugenio was born in Chicago and Lucia in Worcester, Massachusetts, before they met at college in Poughkeepsie and got married, both their grandparents had emigrated from Italy, and they shared a true, authentic Sicilian background. Sandra could easily detect the deep bond they shared, holding hands, eyeing the other before speaking.

“We had no idea about Rocco’s talent for spelling. He came so close last year but tripped up on ‘Chihuahua.’ The poor kid was devastated. To make matters worse, it was one of his practice words. He knew how to spell it. But he got so excited when he heard it, he raced through it too quickly and missed one of the hs. It did such a number on his confidence, but we eventually got him back on track, and now he’s been on a big winning streak.”

“You must be very proud of him,” Sandra said, smiling.

They both nodded. “Before me and Lucia, no one in our family had ever even gone to college. We both come from a long line of butchers and bakers, very working class, back in Italy. When our grandparents first moved here, they broke their backs working to give their children a better life and our parents did the same. When Rocco was born the whole family pinned a lot of hopes and dreams on him, and he has exceeded all our expectations. He’s a true miracle. A real intellect. Mark my words, this kid is going places.”

“He sounds like an amazing boy,” Sandra remarked.

Lucia sat up. “He is. But I’m afraid this threat is going to destroy his confidence again, and he might drop out. That would be such a shame because he has worked so hard to get to this point.”

Eugenio nodded in agreement. “He’s been so excited about the spelling bee this year . . . until he received that note. And now he’s been acting quiet and withdrawn. We’re both very worried about him.”

“So you want to hire us to find out who wrote the note and left it in Rocco’s locker?” Maya asked.

“Yes. What if this person decides to step up his efforts, perhaps even stage some kind of physical attack?” Lucia asked, shuddering at the prospect.

“You know, pull a Tonya Harding,” Eugenio added. “We can’t just stand by doing nothing and risk that happening.”

Both Maya and Sandra were keenly aware of the historical reference. Back in 1994, Olympic ice skater Tonya Harding’s trashy husband contracted his dimwit buddy to literally knee-cap the competition by whacking rival skater Nancy Kerrigan in the thigh with an expandable baton after a practice session, although Harding consistently denied any knowledge of the attack.

Sandra studied the note. The writing looked as if a five-year-old child had scribbled it. But she knew an adult would most likely try to disguise his or her handwriting with this kind of obvious chicken scratch.

“Why don’t we bring Rocco in now?” Maya said.

Eugenio and Lucia had parked their son outside in the hallway with his phone to play games while the adults discussed this very serious situation.

Sandra hopped down from the edge of the desk and crossed to the door, opening it. “Rocco, would you mind joining us now?”

An adorable twelve-year-old boy with a mop of curly black hair, thick dark glasses, and olive skin similar to his parents, shuffled in, head down as he clutched his phone, staring at the small screen.

“What are you playing?” Sandra asked.

“Wordle,” the boy mumbled.

“Why don’t you have a seat on the couch with your mom and dad,” Sandra suggested.

Without looking up from his phone, Rocco plopped down on the couch between his mother and father. His fingers tapped the screen at incredible speed.

“Put that away now, okay, slugger?” Eugenio said firmly.

The boy ignored him.

Finally, Eugenio reached over and plucked the phone out of his son’s hand, pocketing it. Rocco was left with no choice but to finally acknowledge Maya and Sandra.

“We hear you are a pretty impressive speller,” Maya said.

Rocco shrugged. “I’m okay.”

“You must be better than okay. You’ve been slaying the competition,” Sandra chirped.

He shrugged again. “Just in the practice sessions. It’ll just get harder at county and then the state contest, if I even make it that far.”

His parents were right.

His confidence was wavering.

A sobering development for any prospective champion.

Confidence was always key to winning.

Sandra circled around the desk next to Maya and opened a desk drawer. She pulled out a Tupperware container and walked back over to the Fanelli family, unsealing the top. “I baked some chocolate chip cookies this morning before I came in. Care to try one?”

Maya rolled her eyes, chuckling. Of course Sandra was up at the crack of dawn baking cookies, while Maya kept slapping the palm of her hand down on the Snooze button of her old-fashioned alarm clock while still buried underneath her heavy goose-down comforter.

Rocco studied the cookies, then picked the biggest one, taking a huge bite. Sandra then offered one to Eugenio and Lucia, who both politely declined.

Rocco chomped loud enough that his mother gently squeezed his arm and whispered in his ear, “Don’t chew so loud. It’s not polite.”

Rocco swallowed, then took another bite of the cookie, this time trying to munch more quietly.

“Rocco, your parents tell us someone left a note in your locker at school,” Maya said. “Do you have any idea who that person might have been?”

The boy stopped chewing as if he was trying to figure out the best way to respond. Then he abruptly shook his head. “Nope.” He let out a deep, heartfelt sigh, his shoulders slumping. “But it was no big deal. I don’t know why we’re even here.”

“He’s embarrassed. He doesn’t like to be the center of attention or get any kind of special treatment. It makes him very self-conscious,” Eugenio explained. “But it’s the exact opposite when he’s spelling. It’s like he’s in his own world, very focused; he tends to tune out the rest of the world.”

Rocco sighed, annoyed, and turned to his father. “Why do you have to talk like I’m not even in the room?”

“Your parents are just worried, Rocco,” Sandra said soothingly. “The person who slipped that note in your locker did a very bad thing. We all just want to make sure you stay safe.”

“I know,” Rocco grumbled, kicking the base of the couch with the heels of his sneakers. Then he sighed again and turned to his father. “Can I have my phone back? I just thought of a word with a lot of vowels.”

His Wordle game.

That was his top priority right now.

His father gave up, reached into his pocket, and tossed his son the phone. Rocco was immediately glued to the screen and already tuning them out.

“So, will you take the case?” Eugenio asked expectantly. “Will you find the person who wrote that note?”

Maya could tell the Fanellis were not a family of means, and if they were going to take on this case, they would probably have to give them some kind of a discount on their services. It was no secret their relatively new PI firm needed more high-paying clients to cover all their bills and overhead, and they were in no position to take on any pro bono cases like all the fancy law firms in downtown Portland, but maybe they could make an exception just this one time....

“Yes, we’ll take the case,” Sandra announced brightly.

“We can pay the upfront retainer fee,” Eugenio said warily. “But as for the rest of it, maybe we can work out an installment plan?”

Sandra waved them off. “Don’t worry about that. We can discuss all that later.”

Maya smiled at their new clients. “You go home and we will be in touch once we have something.”

Maya knew she did not have much of a choice now that Sandra, who was independently wealthy and never had to worry about paying any gas or heating bills, had made the decision to accept this case for them. But this was one instance where they would not have to argue about money because it was obvious to both Maya and Sandra that they shared a burning need to know what kind of person would stoop so low as to threaten the life of a twelve-year-old kid.

Lucas Cavill’s handsome face lit up at the sight of Sandra sashaying through the door to his office in the athletic department of South Portland High School. He jumped to his feet, quickly circled around his desk, and grabbed Sandra by the hips with his large hands, pulling her in close for a sweet, romantic kiss. Sandra stiffened, signaling him with her eyes that she was not there alone. That was when Maya followed her in through the door with a knowing smirk. But Lucas could not resist even with a witness on hand. He leaned in, his pursed lips landing on Sandra’s with a loud smack.

“Well, how did I get so lucky today?” Lucas cooed.

It was obvious he was infatuated with Sandra.

She politely wriggled from his grasp, glancing back at Maya, who was enjoying her discomfort at such a public display of affection, especially in her son’s high school, where Sandra once presided as PTA president.

“We’re here on business,” Sandra said hurriedly.

“I’m intrigued,” Lucas said with a flirtatious wink.

Sandra had been dating the young athletic director for some months now. At first she had resisted his efforts to take her out on a date because she was going through a divorce from her husband of over twenty years, Senator Stephen Wallage. But Lucas finally had worn her down with his charm and innate kindness and overall enthusiasm. There was a big age difference between them, one Sandra described as a “chasm,” but Lucas was relentless in his determination not to allow that to be an issue between them. He self-admittedly always had preferred the company of more mature women and kept reminding Sandra of that fact every time he saw her. Still, Sandra was over forty and Lucas was still in his late twenties, so she was hyperaware what people must be thinking when they were out in public together. Someone had called her a “cougar” once, a term she despised, finding it demeaning. But Lucas had just shrugged and advised her to simply ignore the naysayers.

“Do you still coach softball over at the middle school on Saturdays?” Sandra asked.

Lucas nodded. “Yes. But as things have gotten busier over here at the high school with baseball season, I’ve been considering pulling back on my other commitments, including the softball team, though I’d hate to disappoint the kids. They’re awesome.”

“So you must know people in the administration who would have access to any security footage,” Sandra said.

“Sure. I mean, I’m not certain they would just hand something like that over to a part-time employee, but yeah, I could at least give it a shot and put in a request.”

Sandra knew instinctively Lucas would come through for them. All he had to do was turn on that boyish charm, flash that winning smile with his perfect white teeth, give a wink with one of his ocean-blue eyes, and he could probably get his hands on just about anything, including nuclear secrets.

And she wasn’t wrong.

By late that afternoon, Lucas called Sandra to let her know the principal, Birdie Munn, had agreed to allow her and Maya to review the footage from the day Rocco Fanelli had found the threatening note in his locker on one of the computers in the school library.

There were a handful of students reading books and writing essays and exchanging notes under the watchful eye of the stern, stone-faced librarian as Maya and Sandra, both standing out like sore thumbs among the prepubescent set, crowded each other in a small cubicle, eyes fixed on the outdated desktop computer screen.

Maya fast-forwarded through a throng of students filling up the hallway after getting dropped off by the school buses, chattering and laughing and chasing one another before the bell rang and they scattered, disappearing inside the classrooms, until the hallway was empty. Sandra had spotted Rocco at his locker, alone with no one nearby. He put his sack lunch inside, grabbed a textbook, slammed the locker shut, and then headed off, disappearing out of frame. Sandra tapped the fast-forward button once more, speeding up until the bell rang again and all the kids filed back into the hallway from the classrooms. They identified Rocco ambling back to his locker, but this time he was not alone. Another boy, taller and stockier, hovered behind him, stopping and loitering, his eyes peering over Rocco’s shoulder as he spun the lock.

Sandra excitedly pointed at the screen. “Look, that kid’s watching Rocco open his locker. He’s memorizing the combination! Quick, fast-forward, let’s see if he comes back.”

The librarian behind the desk about ten feet away hissed, “Shhh!”

Sandra flipped around and mouthed the words, I’m sorry.

But the librarian was unmoved. She just bristled and focused a harsh gaze on Sandra, as if to say, At your age, you should know better than to talk so loud in a library.

Mortified, Sandra pivoted on her foot back toward the screen, where Maya had sped through more footage, landing on the end of the school day, when most kids were grabbing their knapsacks and heading outside to board the school buses for home. Rocco was stuffing his L.L.Bean Explorer backpack with a few heavy textbooks before slamming his locker shut and slipping his arms through the straps. A few moments later, the boy they had seen earlier reappeared. He took a swift look around to make sure no one was in the vicinity watching him, and then he input the combination, swung the locker door open, and surreptitiously dropped the folded note inside before shutting it again and hustling off before anyone noticed.

“We should show this to Principal Munn and find out who this kid is,” Maya suggested.

“Shhh!”

Another warning from behind the library desk.

Sandra snickered and whispered, “Let’s get out of here before we’re sent to detention.”

The two women downloaded the footage onto a thumb drive and went straight to Birdie Munn’s office, where the principal took one look at the kid on the security cam and said, “Hunter Hamlin.”

“Who is Hunter Hamlin?” Maya asked.

“A real troublemaker. He’s been known to bully a few of the smaller kids in his class,” Birdie explained. “We’ve been dealing with his behavioral issues for some time now. I thought we were making progress. It turns out Hunter is a very good speller, so we’ve been encouraging him to take part in the spelling bee, and he’s been doing surprisingly well in all the practice rounds. His parents even called to thank me for giving their son a purpose, something to focus on besides video games and violent graphic novels. But obviously he’s starting to revert back to his old ways.”

“It looks as if he’s nervous about the competition and wants to even the playing field by scaring off his top rival, Rocco,” Maya surmised.

Birdie tapped some keys on her computer. “Let’s find out, shall we?” She stood up and crossed over to a speaker system, leaning in close to the microphone and pressing a button. “Hunter Hamlin, please report to Principal Munn’s office. Repeat, Hunter Hamlin to the principal’s office immediately.” She released the button and rotated back toward Maya and Sandra. “That will no doubt put the fear of God in him. It’s not the first time I’ve had to make that announcement.”

Less than five minutes later, an uneasy, anxious Hunter Hamlin was escorted into the office and told to sit down in an empty chair in front of Principal Munn’s desk. He apprehensively looked at Maya and Sandra, who stood off to the side, quietly observing.

Before he could ask who they were, Birdie clasped her hands together and leaned forward. “Hunter, I would like you to meet Mrs. Kendrick and Mrs. Wallage.” She paused for dramatic effect. “They’re private detectives.”

This news seemed to startle Hunter. “Really?”

“Yes, we’re investigating a crime here at the school,” Maya said, staring at him impassively.

“A-A c-crime?” Hunter stammered.

“Someone left a threatening note in a student’s locker,” Sandra said, extracting the note from her bag and reading it aloud. “ ‘Drop out or die.’ ”

Hunter silently squirmed in his seat.

“Does that sound familiar to you?”

Hunter vigorously shook his head. “No.”

Sandra cocked an eyebrow. “It doesn’t?”

Hunter gazed guiltily straight ahead. “I said no!”

Birdie emitted a heavy sigh. “Come here, Hunter. I want to show you something.”

Hunter hesitated, remaining planted in his seat.

“Hunter, if you refuse to cooperate, I can always call your parents and have them come down here right now,” Birdie warned.

That did the trick.

Hunter was out of the chair like a shot and rounded the desk until he was in front of the desktop computer screen. He watched the footage of himself putting the folded-up piece of paper in Rocco Fanelli’s locker.

Out of self-preservation, Hunter shouted, “That’s not me!”

Birdie shook her head, disappointed. “Hunter, if you can’t tell us the truth, I’m going to have to suspend you until you do. That is clearly you in the video.”

“It must be some kind of deep fake!” His eyes shot back and forth between the principal and Maya and Sandra. He knew he had been caught red-handed. Finally, realizing he was out of options, he croaked, “Okay, it was me. I put the note in Rocco’s locker. Please don’t disqualify me from the spelling bee. My parents will kill me.”

“Were you afraid of losing to Rocco? Is that why you threatened him?” Maya pressed.

Hunter’s eyes widened. “What? No. I didn’t write the note. I didn’t even know what it said until just now.”

“How is that possible?” Sandra asked skeptically.

“Someone put me up to it,” Hunter murmured.

“Who?” Birdie demanded to know.

Hunter shrugged. “I don’t know who it was, I swear. I was in history class the other day and I opened my book because we were reviewing the freedoms in the Bill of Rights and I found a twenty-dollar bill with instructions to leave a note inside Rocco’s locker.”

“Why didn’t you just keep the twenty dollars and not do it?” Maya asked.

“Because the person said I would get another twenty-dollar bill once the job was done, so I went ahead and did it. I didn’t know I was doing anything wrong.”

“Do you honestly expect us to believe you didn’t take a quick peek at the note before you slipped it in Rocco’s locker?” Maya pressed.

“No! I thought maybe some girl in our class had a crush on him and it was some gooey love note! I didn’t care! I just wanted the money! I’ve been saving for the new Super Smash Bros. game!” He nervously scanned the room, looking at them, hoping they believed him.

Sandra’s gut told her the ki. . .