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

by Gayle Trent

  “He’s older. He’s in high school.”

  “You know, there should be a better support system in place for single moms,” I said. “It’s a rough row to hoe, and yet it’s crucial to your children’s success that it’s done well. My daughter’s a single mom. Has been for most of Sunny’s life.”

  “How does she manage everything?”

  I shrugged. “She’s got me, for one thing.”

  “Must be nice. My parents live in Nashville.”

  “Will they be coming to Colby’s graduation?”

  “I hope they will,” she said. “They said they’d try to come up for a couple of days.”

  “I’ll say a little prayer that they’re able to make it.”

  Chapter Eleven

  While I was still in the parking lot of the general store, I got out my phone and called Cooper.

  “Sheriff Cooper Norville,” he answered.

  “Hello, handsome.” I was feeling a tad saucy. “I’d like to buy you lunch if you’re free.”

  “Why don’t I buy you lunch?”

  “Because I invited you, and I’m a modern woman.”

  He chuckled. “Then tell me where and when to be there.”

  “Can you meet me that new place which just opened up for lunch in about thirty minutes? I’ve been wanting to try it.”

  “You mean Parson’s Diner?” he asked.

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  After we hung up, I backed out of my parking spot and headed back toward Backwater. I had a twenty-minute drive ahead of me, so I turned on the radio and listened to some of Sunny’s music. I always keep it on her station because I usually don’t put it on unless she’s in the car.

  When I got close to Parson’s Diner, I pulled into the bank parking lot to check my makeup. I didn’t want Coop to see me looking unkempt. Once I got parked, I took my makeup case out of my pocketbook and pulled the visor down so I could use the lighted mirror. Ain’t that just the handiest thing they ever put on a car?

  Anyhow, I was reapplying my lipstick when I happened to glance in the rearview mirror and see Beth Wilson going into the bank. Ugh. I sure hoped she wasn’t going to Parson’s Diner.

  After I was satisfied I looked my best, I went on to the restaurant. I got there before Coop did, and I snagged us a good table by the window. I wasn’t in this part of town often, so I took everything in while I was waiting for my date.

  When he arrived and sat down—after we’d exchanged pleasantries—I asked him what that big gray building was across the road from the diner.

  “That’s the new technical school,” he said. “It’s where the high school kids come to learn welding and horticulture and stuff like that.”

  “Huh. It looks nice.”

  “It is.” He puffed out his chest with mock pride. “As sheriff, I was invited to attend the ribbon-cutting ceremony last spring.”

  I smiled. “Impressive.”

  “Stick with me, kid. I can take you places…like ribbon cuttings.”

  “I’ve never been to a ribbon cutting,” I said. “Now I want to go to one.”

  “Well, the next invite I get, I’m bringing you along with me.”

  The waitress came and took our drink orders, and then we looked over our menus until she came back. Cooper ordered a Reuben, and I got a ham and Swiss on rye. She went off to tell the cook what we wanted, and we got back to talking.

  “So how’d the matchmaking go last night?” Coop asked.

  “Faye told Sunny she’d forgotten how handsome Mr. Cole was, so I think it went pretty well.”

  “Unless the guy turns out to be guilty.”

  “We both know he isn’t.” I sipped my sweet tea. “Right?”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “But you have some leads. We have Mr. Shaw, Ms. Thompson, that janitor. I mean, Mr. Cole laughed off Mr. Shaw’s suspicions, but people can be naïve sometimes.” I told him about Sunny’s opinion that another teacher wouldn’t set up Mr. Cole because they’re on the same team. “I didn’t tell her that working together made one of them more likely to be the perpetrator.”

  “If someone did frame him, it’s more likely to be a staff member than a student,” said Coop. “By the way, how did your snooping go this morning?”

  “Who said I was snooping this morning?”

  He raised a brow.

  “Fine,” I said. “It went all right.” I explained about my trip to the general store to talk with Colby Jackson’s mother to see what their situation was. “It’s sad. She has to work two jobs to support her family, and her parents live in Nashville. Nashville! That’s like—what—five hours away from here?”

  “About that, yeah.”

  “It’s such a shame. There’s no one here to help her. I mean, Faye’s a single mom but she has me. If Sunny gets sick at school and Faye can’t leave work, I go get her. Before she was old enough to stay by herself for a couple of hours, I kept Sunny on snow days and after school.”

  “That’s great.” He covered my hand with his. “You’re very special.”

  “Not really. Grandparents do that kind of thing all the time. You know that. You’d do the same thing.”

  He nodded. “But I’m like Colby’s grandparents—I live too far away to be of much help to my children.”

  “Still, you’re there for them. And if they needed you, you’d go to them. They know that. I’m not so certain that’s the situation with Colby’s mom and her parents.”

  The waitress brought our food, asked if we needed anything, and then left when we said we were fine.

  As Coop bit into his sandwich, I resumed our discussion of the Jacksons.

  “Maybe kids—at least, some of them—wouldn’t wind up in so much trouble if they had somewhere safe to go and have fun after school.” I lowered my voice. “For example, Brandon Easton told me that Colby’s brother sells marijuana.”

  I watched Coop as he chewed and avoided my eyes.

  “Is it true?” I asked.

  He swallowed and took a drink of his soda. “You know I can neither confirm nor deny that rumor.”

  My eyes continued boring into his.

  “But it isn’t uncommon for kids in situations like that of the Jacksons to get into trouble,” he said.

  “Right. I know they have centers to give street kids or latchkey kids or what-have-you a safe and fun alternative in the bigger cities. But we don’t have anything like that in Backwater. Maybe I should take it up with the M.E.L.O.N.S.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

  I bit into my sandwich and allowed my eyes to wander back to the window. I heard Cooper continuing to talk, but I was distracted. A woman who looked like Beth Wilson was glancing over her shoulder before heading into the technical school building. It was her. I was sure of it, since I’d seen her at the bank just a few minutes before.

  “Myrtle?”

  I blinked and turned my attention back to my lunch date. “I’m sorry.”

  “What caught your eye?”

  “I saw Beth Wilson going into the technical school building,” I said.

  “That makes sense. I guess they don’t have a guidance counselor for the trade school, and they just use those from the affiliated schools.”

  I frowned. “But Ms. Wilson works at the middle school. Aren’t the kids that go there high school students?”

  “Sometimes underfunded schools have to share staff. When my daughters went to school, the choir teacher had to go to three different schools throughout the week.”

  I merely nodded.

  “Anyway, I was asking if you’d like to go to a movie with me tomorrow night.”

  “I’d love to,” I said, with a smile.

  Chapter Twelve

  After lunch, I went home and let Matlock out to take a potty break, but I just couldn't get Beth Wilson going into that trade school out of my mind. I called the school hoping the secretary, Ms. Anderson, would provide so
me answers. Fat chance. She immediately put me through to Ms. Wilson's voicemail.

  Thinking that maybe Ms. Anderson didn't realize Beth Wilson wasn't at the school, I called back.

  "Hello, Ms. Anderson. This is Myrtle Crumb again. You put me through to Beth Wilson's phone, and my call went to voicemail. Could you please tell me if she's out of the office or if she's just with someone at the moment?"

  With a heavy sigh, Ms. Anderson said, "Please hold."

  After what seemed like two days, she came back on the line. "Ms. Wilson is out of the office this afternoon. I can put you through to her voicemail if you'd like to leave a message, but it'll be tomorrow before she can get back to you."

  "So you don't expect her back this afternoon? Did she get sick or something?"

  "I couldn't say. If that'll be all, I need to get back to my work," she said.

  Of course, she did. Sitting at her desk glaring at children was such a tough job.

  Oh, well. I let Matlock back in and told him about it.

  "I have got to find out what Beth Wilson was doing at that school." I paced the kitchen while I talked. "Maybe she's seeing someone there. Or maybe she's got an accomplice there who's helping her set up Mr. Cole." I took my glasses off and cleaned them. "What if she's doing something illegal there or something that would at least get her fired from her job, and Mr. Cole found out about it?"

  Matlock whined.

  "You're right. The only way I'm going to figure this thing out is to go to that trade school and see for myself." I kissed his head. "Thank you for your help. You're a good boy."

  I got to the technical school just in time to see Beth Wilson walking down the hall all chummy with a group of students. She was particularly friendly with one boy.

  She was laughing at something he'd said. "Oh, Jacob, you're a piece of work." She looked up and spotted me. "Ms. Crumb, what are you doing here?"

  "I'm visiting someone. What are you doing here?"

  "I'm giving a presentation on filling out job applications, going on interviews, and other career information." Her lips tightened.

  "That's certainly a valuable service, and I'm sure they appreciate you."

  The kids were looking impatient.

  I hurried on. "It's something I'd expect the high school guidance counselor to do, though. I hope the county isn't taking advantage of you."

  "Not at all." Her voice had a definite edge to it now. "I volunteered to handle this because the high school guidance counselor is currently on maternity leave."

  "How very kind of you. I won't keep you any longer." I wandered down the hall trying to look as if I knew where I was going. I could practically feel Beth Wilson's eyes piercing into my back as I walked away. I had to pretend I really had come here with a purpose other than spying on her.

  I saw a sign that said "Industrial Welding" and headed down that hallway.

  A man wearing safety goggles stepped out of the men's room. "May I help you?"

  "Yes, sir. I'd like to inquire about some...uh...welding? I've heard that sometimes schools like this offer quality service at a lower price."

  "Yes, ma'am. What do you need welded?"

  "My...um...my lawnmower, maybe? May I have my...my lawn person...give you a call?"

  "Sure." He provided his name and his office hours.

  I thanked the man and left.

  * * *

  My next stop was the high school. When I got there, I signed in and went into the office. I wondered why they didn't have a sign-in sheet at the trade school.

  Anyhow, when the secretary greeted me, I said, "I don't want to bother anyone. I know you're short-staffed now with your guidance counselor on maternity leave and all."

  "That's perfectly all right." She smiled. She was about thirty years younger and a thousand times more chipper than Ms. Anderson. "We'll help you out any way we can. What can we do for you?"

  "Well, I'd like to look through some of your past yearbooks."

  "That's no problem whatsoever. Our library has a yearbook from every single year since the school's inception." She directed me to the library.

  I thanked her and hurried down the hall thinking she might be easier to work with than Ms. Anderson when Sunny got here in the fall.

  I stepped into the library and was surprised at how school libraries had changed since I graduated. Now there were fewer tables and chairs grouped near the shelves, and in their places were cubicles with computers. Also, in the middle of the floor were two brown leather sofas, two matching chairs, and a wooden coffee table.

  "This is nice," I murmured.

  "Thank you." A small woman with brown hair cut in a bob and navy glasses smiled at me from behind the counter. "Ms. Stevens called and said you'd be coming to look at yearbooks."

  "I'd like to, yes."

  "Right this way." As she talked, she came around and led me to a small glass-walled reference area with a door she had to unlock. "It's a shame, but we have to keep all our reference books under lock and key to protect them from vandals."

  "Oh, my, that is a shame."

  She left the door open and said to call if I needed her.

  I scanned the row of yearbooks, and my eyes almost immediately came to rest on the one from the year Faye graduated. Faye didn't go to this school--Crandall and I lived in another district at the time--but Ada Miller, Tansie’s daughter, and Leta Thompson did.

  I thought Ada and Faye were the same age, so I took that yearbook and sat down at the table. Maybe I could learn something helpful about Ms. Thompson from this book. Like maybe she'd been voted Most Likely to Frame a Co-Worker.

  Despite Tansie's contention that Ada and Leta Thompson weren’t friends, there was more than one photograph of the girls together in the yearbook. In most, there were other people around, but in one, they were the only two in the photo. They were posing and clowning for the camera. I needed to have a word with Tansie about the girls' relationship.

  I returned that yearbook to the shelf and took out last year's volume. When I'd talked with Colby Jackson's mother at the general store, she had Colby had an older brother. She hadn't given any indication that the other boy was graduating high school, so his photo should be in this yearbook.

  I started with the freshman class, but there was only one Jackson listed and she was a girl. Then I got to the sophomores. Although there was more than one Jackson in the class, one was a girl and the other was a boy who bore more than a passing resemblance to Colby Jackson's mother. His name was Jacob.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I drove home, parked my car, and then went right across the street to Tansie’s house. I had to peck on the door two times before she answered my knock.

  “What were you doing?” I asked.

  “I was in the basement doing laundry, Ms. Nosy.”

  “Oh. I was just getting concerned about you, that’s all. I wasn’t being nosy.”

  She scoffed. “You’re always being nosy. Come on in.”

  I stepped inside and put my purse on the floor beside the sofa before I sat down. “If you need to go back and see to your laundry, that’s fine with me.”

  “It’s all right for now. What’re you doing here?”

  “Well, I just came from the high school.”

  “Does Sunny know you’re stirring up stuff there before she even starts attending the school?” she asked.

  “No, but I’ll be sure and tell her. Besides, no one there accused me of stirring anything up. I got the impression they thought I was sweet and charming as I looked through the yearbooks.”

  “What were you looking at yearbooks for?”

  “I was hoping to find out Colby Jackson’s brother’s name—which I did—and to see if I could deduce anything interesting about Leta Thompson’s personality from the yearbook,” I said. “And I did find something interesting about Leta. Apparently, she and Ada used to be good friends.”

  “Yes, they did.”

  I was a bit surprised Tansie would admit to that.


  “That’s how I know she’s such a dirty, rotten backstabber,” she continued. “You see, Ada had been dying to get a paid summer internship with that law firm over in Plantation Valley. It would’ve been good experience, money toward college, and a nice feather in Ada’s cap for her resume.”

  Ada now worked as an administrative assistant at a law firm in Abingdon.

  Tansie’s eyes narrowed. “But that Leta Thompson went right behind Ada’s back and applied for that very job!”

  “And did Leta get it?”

  “No. Neither one of them got it. But the very fact that Leta would go behind her back destroyed the friendship for Ada. She never could forgive her. And I don’t blame her!” She shook her head. “Leta told Ada that she didn’t need money for school…that Ada’s family had money and connections and she had neither. And, true as that may be, Leta knew how badly Ada wanted that internship.”

  I was thinking what difference did it make if neither girl got it, but I could understand Ada getting mad about it. Still, if they were really good friends, I couldn’t see why Ada couldn’t have forgiven her over it. But, then, Tansie can be awfully spiteful sometimes, and I reckon Ada took after her momma.

  “Has Leta ever been married?” I asked. I didn’t really know what difference that made in the grand scheme of things, but it was something to ask to change the subject.

  “No. The hateful old thing is a spinster. And her past behavior simply proves my point that she’s the one who framed Mr. Cole.”

  “How do you figure?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Because if that selfish woman would betray a friend, do you think for one instant she’d hesitate to frame a coworker whom she doesn’t even like if she thought it might help her career in some way?”

  I acknowledged Tansie had a point and that I’d keep my eye on Ms. Thompson. “And we both need to keep digging for evidence. If we don’t have any proof he was framed, Mr. Cole is the one who’s going to pay for this.”

  * * *

  When I got home, my answering machine light was blinking. I refilled Matlock’s water bowl, and then I listened to the message. It was from Bettie Easton.