DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (10 page)

Twel
ve

I a
bandoned my student questioning to try an adult-oriented approach. I strode toward
the office with my visitor lanyard slapping my belly. The office hummed with activity.

Flashing my badge to the parent volunteer, I moved around the long counter. An office
assistant’s desk sat in the back, and I honed in on the young woman typing on the
computer. She had neither straight hair nor artificial body parts. I breathed a sigh.
She was my people.

I glanced at the name plate on her desk. Amber Tipton. “Hey, Miss Amber. How are you?”

She looked up from her computer, searched my face, then my visitor’s pass. “Can I
help you?”

“Cherry Tucker. I’m Mr. Tinsley’s art director for his new play.” I dropped in the
chair next to her desk. “Are you busy?”

“I’m always busy,” she said. “Especially now that I’m the only administrative assistant.”

“Miss Pringle’s death must be hard on you. I heard someone sent Miss Pringle some
horrible texts before her death. Mercy, that’s awful,” I prompted. “You didn’t get
one, did you?”

Amber slitted a glance toward me. “You think I’m letting anyone here have my cell
phone number? The administration has my home phone and that’s it. The only creepy
texts I get are booty calls from my ex.”

“I hear you there,” I said. “Poor Miss Pringle. Did many other staff get messaged
like Maranda?”

“I’ve heard a few teachers talk about it. Most think it’s a kid with an axe to grind.”

“Any idea who’s doing it?”

“Like I have time to think about that,” said Amber. “I barely have time to breathe
this week.”

I glanced at the girls leaning against the counter, snapping selfies. “You must be
overwhelmed. Aren’t Miss Pringle’s student assistants helping out?”

Amber shot them a dark look. “Not really. But she didn’t have them do anything useful
anyway. And I don’t have time to train them.”

“What do you need doing? I’m sure there’s something easy they can manage. I’ll explain
it to them.”

Her eyes lit up.

After a quick explanation of Miss Pringle’s filing system, I soon found my arms loaded
with folders. My line of office ducks followed me into Miss Pringle’s office and listened
while I explained the concept of the alphabet. A bell rang and the students took off
before a single file entered the cabinet.

I chewed my lip and glanced at my watch, wondering if anyone would notice if I skipped
last period. Then realized I was alone in Miss Pringle’s office. I left the stack
of files and the open cabinet drawers to study her desk.

Pringle’s hard drive tower had been dismantled. No photos or personal effects other
than a horoscope-of-the-day calendar sat on her desk. I dropped into her chair and
pulled open the wide, top drawer used for holding pens, paperclips, and dust bunnies.
Finding her computer password taped under her pen caddy, I wrote that handy piece
of information on the underside of my arm. The other drawers had stationary, procedural
files, and boring memos about tornados, bomb threats, and fire drills. I shut the
drawers, disappointed.

Relaxing my head against the back of her office chair, I wondered why the police took
hard drives and computer chips for a “prankster” that might not have anything to do
with Pringle’s suicide. Anytime there’s an unnatural death the police are called in.
But if a suicide had been confirmed, the investigation would be dropped. Unless the
death was still considered suspicious.

I tapped my fingers on the leather chair arms and tipped the chair back. Uncle Will
wouldn’t tell me diddly about an open investigation, even another department’s. But
Luke might play ball, seeing as how he was in a let-me-make-it-up-to-you-baby kind
of mood these days.

My eyes slid closed as I contemplated the strategy of asking Luke to reveal police
business. I jerked awake at the call of my name.

Assistant Principal Cooke stood before the desk.

My face burned, and I hopped from the chair.

Busted again.

“Sorry
.
” I rushed over my words. “I was helping Miss Amber and just waiting on the next group
of student office workers to show them how to file.”

Brenda Cooke narrowed her eyes into a well-honed principal glare. “I thought you were
assisting Mr. Tinsley, not helping in the front office.”

“Yes, that, too.” I smiled wide and patted my chartreuse messenger bag. “We had our
brainstorm session, and I was just picturing an underwater alien Verona.”

“Why do I keep finding you in Miss Pringle’s office?”

“I don’t know, ma’am. Bad luck, I guess.”

She glanced at the desk and back to me.

I pressed the scribbling on my arm against my dress.

“Don’t let it happen again,” she said.

Crap, I thought as I trotted out of the office.

This investigation work was trickier than I thought. I walked back to Amber’s desk.
“Hey Amber, those students took off before they put away the files and Ms. Cooke just
kicked me out of Pringle’s office.”

Amber blew out a sigh. “Figures. They better hire somebody soon or I’m fixing to quit.
Ms. Cooke keeps handing me things to do. I can barely keep up with the front office
as it is. I didn’t even get lunch.”

“Good luck,” I said. “If I get extra minutes tomorrow, I’ll try to help.”

“Thanks
.
”
S
he turned back to her computer.

“Cherry.” The squeal came from the visitors’ area.

I recognized the voice by the headache it caused. In a pink knit dress and matching
Keds, Tara Mayfield bounced on a chair before the windows.

If Tara had a tail, the school foyer would catch site of it wagging.

“Did you come to pick up your brother?” I asked.

“Sort of.” She popped from her seat to skip to the counter. “I thought you needed
help with your sets?”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day, Tara,” I said, sounding very art directory. “We just
had our first meeting to brainstorm ideas. Auditions aren’t until tomorrow. I won’t
start painting until later this week.”

“Oh.” Her pout caused a rainbow to vanish. “Darn it.”

“Watch your language
.
” I winked. “We’re in a school.”

Twenty shades of magenta scorched her cheeks.

“By the way,” I said, feeling bad about my teasing. “What’s the deal with your brother?”

“Is Laurence giving you a hard time? I am so sorry. He’s a little different.” Tara
pressed her hands together and bowed her head. “I am at a loss at what to do with
him. A loss.”

“What do you mean? He’s a teenager. You let him grow up.” Of course, I was at a loss
of what to do with my brother, too. But Cody had stolen from my nemesis and declared
war on the stepfamily of my ex-boyfriend, stirring a pot of god-awful crap that would
hit a fan aimed at me. Laurence was no Cody. “Laurence wasn’t bothering me. I just
don’t understand him.”

“I don’t understand him, either,” said Tara. “Why doesn’t he want to get involved?”

“In what?”

“In anything! He spends all his time in his room reading. He doesn’t talk to anyone.
I don’t think he has any friends. I’m so worried about him.”

Tara’s agony over her brother jabbed my heart with empathetic needles. “Listen, I’ll
keep my eye on him while I’m here. When we start the actual building of the set, feel
free to help.”

“Thank you, Cherry
.
” Tara catapulted across the counter to hug my neck.

The edge of the counter dug into my stomach. I gently shoved her to the ground. “I’ll
see you around. I should go work on my sketches.”

“Of course,” she chirped. “By the way, Lukey was much nicer to me today. Whatever
you said to him last night must have helped.”

I contained my grimace and fled the school. I wasn’t sure if Lukey would appreciate
that thought or not.

On
my way home from Peerless, I buzzed my Uncle Will’s number. He picked up on the second
ring. Expecting to leave a voicemail, I slipped my flip phone between my shoulder
and chin and stumbled through a greeting. “Detective Herrera from Line Creek says
to tell you hello.”

“That’s nice,” said Will, “anything else?”

“Did the coroner officially call Maranda Pringle’s death a suicide yet?”

“Get in here,” said Will.

Dammit, I thought and hung up. Letting the phone fall into my lap, I drove the extra
twenty minutes to the Sheriff’s Office. I parked and walked into the building, holding
a palm up before Tamara could open her surly mouth.

Eyeing my metacarpal stop sign, she folded her arms over her chest. The black G’s
on her red fingernails stood out against her firm biceps. “You are one hot mess, Cherry
Tucker. What have you gotten yourself into this time?”

“Nothing, ma’am,” I said, striding to the doorway to the back rooms.

“Sheriff calls you in for a talking-to, it ain’t nothing.”

“Please just buzz me through
.
” I stared at the door. “I don’t need an escort.”

“You need a life escort, that’s what you need, Cherry Tucker.”

At her buzz, I yanked on the door and walked down the hall to Uncle Will’s office.
I knocked, heard Will’s call to enter, and toddled through. Uncle Will sat behind
his desk, his hands folded over his BBQ-bulged belly. Deputy Luke Harper sat in one
of the two chairs before his desk. At my entrance, their conversation halted, and
Luke turned in his seat.

Pasting on my best customer service smile, I strode forward. Unlike Maranda Pringle’s
desk, Uncle Will’s held family photos including one of my siblings and I at my graduation
from SCAD. First and only in my family to go to college. And they still wished I had
gone to a school with football.

“Hello, gentleman. What can I do you for?” I nodded to each in turn.

“Have a seat, hon’,” said Will. “Deputy Harper tells me you’re doing a little investigative
work at the Peerless Day Academy.”

“Yes, sir.” My mind churned, reexamining my time spent at Peerless and what constituted
as interference in police business. Other than going through Pringle’s desk, I didn’t
think I had done anything untoward. And no one knew about that, except maybe Assistant
Principal Brenda Cooke.

Oh, crap, I thought. Did Cooke call Uncle Will? I hated it when the principal called
home to tattle.

“I can explain
.
” I slid back in the chair, letting my boots dangle.

“Explain what?” Luke glanced at Will.

“Am I in trouble?” I kept my eyes on Uncle Will. Could he ground me from going to
Peerless?

“That depends on what you’ve done
.
” Will drew the words out. “Let’s hear it.”

I recognized that tone from my childhood. That particular phrase used to force me
into confession, but I had savvied to that lesson by the time I was fifteen. I straightened
my spine and smoothed my Mondrian dress.

“Besides meeting with the theater class to determine what set to design, not much.
But while I was there, a strange announcement went over the PeerNotes wavelengths
to everyone in the school.”

“Their social media website?” Uncle Will rocked back in his chair. “Was Detective
Herrera there when the message went out?”

“What did the announcement say?” asked Luke.

I crossed my legs, eager to report what I’d learned. They hadn’t called me in to holler
at me.

The Sheriff’s Office wanted to know what was going on in the school.

“Some lines from last year’s musical.” I explained the lyrics and how they implicated
Tinsley and Ellis Madsen. “I believe Detective Herrera had already left. He confiscated
a hard drive from the art rooms and I don’t know what else. Didn’t anybody from the
school tell Line Creek PD about the weird PeerNotes announcement?”

Will rubbed his thick neck. “I’ll call and ask them in a minute. You say Herrera confiscated
a hard drive?”

“You think it was something to do with the Pringle case, sir?” asked Luke.

“That’s what I wondered
.
” I bounced in my seat.

“Maybe they were checking computer histories in relation to the Pringle case and something
on the art computer sent up a red flag.” Luke raised his brows at Will.

“Well,” said Will, “there’s probable cause for the Pringle case. Wouldn’t need a warrant
if the principal gave permission for a search.”

“I have yet to meet Principal Cleveland,” I said. “Haven’t even glimpsed him.”

“Who’s running the show over there?” asked Luke.

“The assistant principal, Brenda Cooke, keeps catching me...” I paused to give my
brain a chance to shut my mouth. “The assistant principal is always around.”

The room fell silent except for the popping tick of the overhead clock as both men
fell into a meditative stupor. I gave them a minute to collect their thoughts, but
I was never one for long bouts of cogitation.

“So why am I here?” I said.

“We’re interested in this Pringle case,” said Will.

“And why’s that?”

More silence. I studied each man, then focused on Will. “Did the county coroner call
it a suicide?”

“Yes, but I am troubled,” he said.

“Is Line Creek police troubled?”

“Not as much as I,” Will admitted. “I don’t like this text messaging business. Especially
when they had the cyberbullying issue last year.”

“Herrera said last year was completely different.”

“Yes and no,” said Will.

“That’s helpful. So, if the suspicious death has been called a suicide, Line Creek
is done investigating. But you disagree with the county coroner. Which means you could
make this political.”

“I suppose that sums it up.”

I turned to Luke. “And why are you here?”

“Curiosity.” He wore his hooded cop look, but I sensed a grin somewhere underneath.

“You usually zing me for that
.
” I narrowed my eyes. “Y’all want to know what I’ve heard, don’t you?”

“It’s Line Creek’s investigation,” said Will. “Like Luke said, we’re curious. And
Luke told me the drama teacher wants your help with this texting business. We figured
you’d have your ear to the ground.”