Perp and Circumstance: A Myrtle Crumb Mystery (Myrtle Crumb Mystery Series Book 5)

by Gayle Trent

  Perp and Circumstance

  A Myrtle Crumb Mystery

  By

  Gayle Trent

  Copyright © 2015 by Gayle Trent

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  Gayle Trent

  Grace Abraham Publishing

  Bristol, VA 24202

  www.gayletrent.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  I was so excited! My granddaughter Sunny—well, Crimson’s her given name, you know—was graduating middle school next week. Now, I realized this wasn’t as big a deal as high school graduation. Heck, we didn’t even have middle school in my day. But, anyhow, Faye and I were giving Sunny a little party at her house.

  I told Faye I’d get the cake. I’d heard about a baker over in Brea Ridge named Daphne Martin. She was supposed to be really good. Everybody said she made the prettiest cakes…and could even make figures and stuff. I was going to give her a call and see if she could make Sunny a cake that’d be pretty, but wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg.

  I was just getting ready to pick up the phone when Sunny called.

  “Hi, angel.” I didn’t tell her I was getting ready to order her cake because I didn’t know how much—if anything—Faye had told her about the party yet. “Did you just get home from school?”

  “Yeah, Mimi, and it’s awful.”

  “What’s awful? School?”

  She sniffled, and I realized she was crying.

  “Sunny, what’s wrong?”

  “It’s Mr. Cole. He’s my favorite teacher, and he was suspended today. The police brought in drug dogs that went all over the school, and they found marijuana in Mr. Cole’s desk drawer.”

  “Marijuana? Oh, my goodness!”

  “But he didn’t do it, Mimi! I know he’d never use illegal drugs. Mr. Cole’s the best.” She hiccupped. “Whoever called in that anonymous tip framed him. That’s exactly what happened!”

  “Okay, now calm down and let’s think this through.” The whole time I was telling her to calm down so we could think things through, I was trying to do the same thing. My heart was fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings. “What do you know about this guy?”

  "Only that he's the best teacher ever."

  "All right, but besides that. Is he married?"

  "No, I don't think so," she said.

  "Seeing anyone you know of...or have heard rumors about?" If he was flirting around with one of the teachers at school, it could very well have been her husband or boyfriend who planted the drugs in his desk.

  "I haven’t heard anything," said Sunny. "What would that have to do with it? Do you think his wife or girlfriend might do something like that to get back at him?”

  “Well, that is a possibility, sweetheart. People going through bad breakups have been known to do some pretty lousy stuff to each other.” I sighed. “What about the other kids? Is he popular with most of them? Or are there just a few of you who are partial to him?”

  "We all love Mr. Cole. I've never heard anybody say anything bad about him."

  "Not even the ones who make poor grades?"

  "Nope, not even them, Mimi. If there's something one of us doesn't understand, he goes over it until he's sure we've all got it down pat. And if somebody still can't get it, he offers to work with them after class. There's no reason for anyone to make a bad grade in Mr. Cole's class. If they do, they're just plain lazy and don't care enough about their grades to get mad about them."

  "Huh." I didn't say so to Sunny, but that kind of popularity and—I imagined—success rate would put a burr under the saddle of lesser teachers. One of them might've seen fit to take Mr. Cole down a peg or two, "Listen, honey, you just leave everything to me. I'll call Coop and see what he knows about this."

  I was dating Sheriff Cooper Norville, and if anybody could help Mr. Cole out of his predicament—provided the teacher didn't put the pot or weed or Mary Jane or whatever they’re calling it these days in the desk drawer himself—Coop could.

  "Thank you, Mimi! I knew you'd help Mr. Cole."

  I only hoped I could.

  * * *

  I called Coop right after I'd spoken with Sunny. I told him how upset she was and that I hoped he could assure us that it was all just a big old misunderstanding.

  "Now, Myrtle, darling, you know I can’t do that. What went on at the school today is part of an ongoing investigation. I can't disclose any of the details. But, rest assured, Wilbur Brody is on the case, and he'll get to the bottom of it."

  Wilbur Brody was the resource officer at the school. I'd worked with him once before when Sunny had been accused of stealing some things, and the only thing I trusted him to get to get to the bottom of was a bag of corn chips. I'd have to take care of this thing my own self.

  "If the teacher is innocent, he'll be cleared of all charges and reinstated," Cooper was saying.

  I hadn't meant to tune him out, but hearing the name Wilbur Brody had had that effect on me. Don't get me wrong—Wilbur was all right for what he did on a normal basis...stopping fights and threatening delinquents and whatnot...but he'd need my expertise—like he had before—to solve this case.

  "Myrtle, are you listening?"

  "Of course, I am. Y'all and Wilbur have everything under control. I'm glad to know it, and I’ll pass along to Sunny that y'all are working on it and Mr. Cole will probably be out of this mess in a day or two."

  "Now, don't go making her promises we can't keep."

  "It's not a promise. It's a reassurance...to make her feel better. We all need those every once in a while, don't we?"

  "Yeah, like I need your reassurance you'll stay out of this."

  "Exactly," I said.

  "Myrtle Crumb, you're gonna be the death of me."

  "You know better. Plus, I make your life a lot more interesting."

  He agreed I had a point and then asked if we were still on for tomorrow night. I told him of course we were.

  After talking with Coop, I was finally able to call that woman over in Brea Ridge and see about having her make Sunny a graduation cake.

  Chapter Two

  The next morning I got up early so I could call Sunny before she went to school to tell her not to pack a lunch today.

  "I’m not. I was planning on just eating something from the cafeteria," she said. “Why?”

  "Because I'm bringing your lunch."

  She giggled. "You're going to start investigating today, aren't you?"

  "Of course, I am."

  I'd called her back last night after ordering her cake and had told her everything Cooper had said...and a couple of things that he hadn't actually said but had implied—like the fact that he'd work extra hard on this case since it involved a teacher she cared so much about. I also told her I wasn't about to leave Mr. Cole's fate in Wilbur Brody's hands.

  After telling Sunny I'd see her at noon, I hung up and started to work on her lunch. The young'un loves my homemade brownies, so I made a batch of those. While they were baking, I let my dog Matlock back inside—he'd been out in the backyard from the time we'd got up—and made us some breakfast. We had fried eggs and s
ausage patties.

  By the time I got our breakfast dishes cleaned up, it was time for the brownies to come out of the oven. I got them out and put them on a wire rack to cool.

  I happened to think Coop likes my brownies too, so I decided to take half of them to the police station. After all, it wouldn’t hurt to see if anything new had come up with regard to Mr. Cole's case.

  * * *

  I wore a red, short-sleeved knit twinset, black slacks, and black ballet flats to the school. I hoped the outfit was authoritative enough without heels because I didn't know how much pavement I'd end up pounding today, and even though I was a young sixty-five, I didn’t want to have to soak my feet in Epsom salts before my date later this evening.

  I signed in as soon as I went through the front door. You have to do that now. They have somebody sitting at a little table by the doors all the time to sign people in and out. It’s because of all those school shootings. It makes me sick to think it's come to that.

  I went on into the office, and there sat Mrs. Anderson looking two days older than Methuselah. I gave her a big old smile. "Hi, there. Don't you look nice today?"

  She did look nice—as in, more pleasant than usual. I reckoned that was because it was close to time for school to be letting out for the summer.

  "What can I do for you?" she asked.

  "I’m here to see Sunny—er, Crimson—Dailey. Could you call her down please?"

  With a sigh, she rolled her chair over to the intercom and asked for Crimson Dailey to come to the front office. Then she rolled back over to her desk.

  "So, do you have big plans for the summer?" I tried to appear as interested as possible.

  "Not too awful big." She frowned as she thought about it for a second and then decided to talk about her plans. I figured she didn’t have too many people ask about them. "We’re having a family reunion from my momma's side in a couple of weeks. I'm looking forward to that. My sister is going to stay with me for a few extra days, and we're going to do some shopping, see a movie, you know, stuff like that."

  "That'll be so nice. I've always kinda wished I had a sister."

  "Well, trust me--it's hit or miss. They're either a blessing or a curse. I've got one of each."

  We both laughed.

  She'd given me just the opening I needed. Lowering my voice, I said, "Speaking of curses, poor Mr. Cole. Sunny was devastated when she heard about what happened to him."

  Mrs. Anderson shook her head. "I know. It's a shame. He's one of our best teachers too. You think you know somebody."

  "Sunny believes it has to be some sort of mistake...that maybe somebody put that stuff in his desk as a mean prank or something."

  "I guess that could be, but right now, things ain't looking too good for Mr. Cole."

  Sunny came in then, and I handed her the lunch. I’d put it in a little train case I’d gotten free with the purchase of some makeup or something. I thought it would make a handy lunchbox, but Sunny’s green eyes got as big as saucers as she took it.

  "Gosh, Mimi, how much lunch is in here?"

  "Enough." I smiled. "I wanted you to have plenty, and I wanted you to be able to share with some of your friends if you took a notion.

  She kissed my cheek. "Thanks, Mimi. See you later."

  * * *

  After leaving the school, I swung by the police station. A deputy escorted me back to Cooper’s office.

  He smiled as he got up from his desk. "Well, this is a nice surprise."

  I handed him a plastic container with half a dozen generously-cut brownies inside. “I took Sunny her lunch today. Since I made her some brownies, I thought you might like one or two to have with your lunch. Or with your morning coffee. Whatever.”

  He took the brownies and indicated I should sit. "And here I was thinking you'd come all this way to see how things were going in a certain case I can’t discuss.” He sat back down and opened the box. He closed his eyes, breathed in the aroma of fudge, and let out a soft moan. “You sure know the way to a man’s heart, don’t you?”

  "I'm glad you like them. And I'm not going to ask you a word about that case you mentioned."

  "Thanks. You know I’d tell you what was going on with it if I could."

  "I know. And I understand you're doing your best to get to the truth."

  "Always," he said.

  "I need to go. I have a couple of errands to run before going back home."

  "All right. I’ll see you out.” He walked me down the hall and out the door. He looked around to make sure none of his officers was within hearing distance, but he lowered his voice all the same. "See you tonight."

  I smiled and left. It was sweet and respectful that he guarded his—our—privacy.

  When I got into my car, I fished my phone out of my purse and called Faye. She answered with her bank spiel.

  "Hi, honey, it's me. I won’t keep you but a second. That teacher of Sunny's—Mr. Cole—what’s his first name?"

  "Jeffrey. Why?"

  “Just wondering. She called me yesterday all upset about what had happened to him. What subject does he teach?”

  "English. Mother, what are you up to?"

  "Sunny asked me to look into it." I huffed. "I'm making a few discreet inquiries, that's all."

  "Discreet?"

  I changed the subject. "I called Daphne Martin yesterday. The name of her business is Daphne's Delectable Cakes. Ain’t that cute? Anyway, I ordered Sunny a cake with a cap and a diploma on it. Daphne asked me some questions about what kind of stuff Sunny likes, and I told her. I can hardly wait to see what she comes up with."

  "I bet it'll be beautiful. She'll be so happy with it." She paused. "I'll pay half of whatever she charges you."

  "You most certainly will not. I told you I'd get the cake, and I will. And before you even ask, I gave Daphne the young’un’s name as Crimson instead of Sunny."

  She chuckled. "I know."

  "You did not know. And you were worried about it."

  She didn't deny it.

  After talking with Faye, I went to the library to use the computer to look up an address for Jeffrey Cole. With the teacher’s address written on a piece of scrap paper provided by the librarian, I headed for Mr. Cole’s house. I hoped he was home. And that I’d know what to say to him once I got there.

  Chapter Three

  When he answered the door, I could understand why the girls liked Mr. Cole. He was a cutie-patootie! He had wavy, light-brown hair which was just a tad long, and he had the bluest eyes. He looked to be about Faye’s age. I remembered Sunny saying she didn’t think he was attached. Well, Faye wasn’t attached either.

  “May I help you?” he asked.

  He had a nice voice, too. Deep but not too much so and not gravelly in the least. If he really was innocent of this drug business, I had some matchmaking to do.

  “Well, Mr. Cole, I hope I can help you.”

  He suddenly looked tired. “Look, I don’t know what you’re selling or whatever, but I don’t have time to talk right now.” He took a step back and started to close the door.

  “Wait!” I put my hand against the door. “I’m Crimson Dailey’s grandmother, Myrtle Crumb.”

  “Is Crimson all right?”

  “No. She’s worried sick over you. Since I’m a detective—part-time, unlicensed, and free-lance, but with a hundred-percent success rate—I’m here to help you. Sunny—that’s what I call her—says you’re innocent.”

  “I am innocent,” he said. “Somebody set me up.”

  “That’s what she said. Now would you please let me come in so I can help you figure out who’s behind this?”

  He hesitated for a moment and then stepped back and let me come in. He had a nice home. It was on the small side, but it—the living room, anyway, which was the only room I could see—was clean and uncluttered. He had a big brown tweed sofa, a leather recliner, a pair of walnut end tables, a flat screen television on the wall, and some bookcases filled with mostly hardback books.
r />   I took a seat on the sofa. “You might remember when Sunny was accused of stealing last year.”

  He shook his head. “Not really. I mean, I might’ve heard something about it but none of the particulars.”

  “Well, anyhow, I straightened that whole mess out, and Sunny was cleared.”

  Perching on the edge of the recliner, he said, “And you believe you can clear me too.”

  “Do you smoke marijuana, Mr. Cole?”

  He nearly came up off of that chair. “No, ma’am, I do not.”

  “Then I can clear you.”

  Mr. Cole relaxed back into the chair. “I wish I could be as sure of that as you seem to be, Ms. Crumb. Those drug dogs found the bag of marijuana in my desk drawer. I can’t dispute that.”

  “Do you keep your desk locked?”

  “No, except for events like open houses where people will be wandering through the rooms and teachers are required to leave their doors unlocked.”

  “Have there been any open houses lately?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “Besides, whoever put the marijuana in my desk had to do it between the time I left my office and the time I returned to school yesterday morning. I keep my lunch in that drawer. I open it at least twice a day.”

  “And the bag wasn’t hidden? It wasn’t taped to the bottom of the upper drawer or anything?”

  “I don’t think so,” said Mr. Cole. “They had the drug dogs come in before the staff arrived. They usually do. It’s so the students won’t be freaked out.” He shrugged. “That’s usually what the dogs do—sniff at the lockers.”

  “But this time they got a tip that you had drugs in your possession,” I said.

  He nodded.

  “And I’m guessing whoever provided that tip is the person who set you up.”

  “Yep. But no one will tell me who reported me.” He sighed.

  “Yeah, well, they probably lied about their identity anyhow. Tell me who has something against you. That’s what we need to know.”