“Visiting you.” I stuck out my hand to the other cop. “Cherry Tucker. Are you Herrera’s partner?”
“Officer Amelia Wells.” Smooth, brown hair had been pulled back in a ponytail and freckles dusted her pert nose. Her handshake felt like a vise clamp.
“Mind if we sit?” I took the chair facing the wall, noticing no one else in the room sat with their back to the door. Luke took the chair to my right, next to Herrera. “I’ve got questions about Maranda Pringle.”
“Why?” asked Wells. “She’s not a relative. Or a friend.”
“How do you know?”
“Because her parents are dead, she has no siblings, and her friends were all male. Except one gal, Olivia Hughes. And you said your name is Cherry Tucker.” Wells smirked. “What kind of name is Cherry? Sounds like a prostitute.”
“I am not a prostitute,” I said, crossing my arms over my “Stunts” t-shirt. “I’m not even very good at dating.”
The corners of Herrera’s mouth rose. “That so? What’re you doing with this one?”
“Luke and I are friends.” I accepted the pint glass of beer handed to me by a stony faced waiter. “We’ve known each other a long time.”
“Cherry’s interested in the Pringle suicide because of what’s going on at the school,” said Luke, hurrying past our personal information. “An unofficial announcement went out on PeerNotes yesterday. Obscurely implicating the drama teacher she’s working for.”
“Do you know if other faculty have been targeted?” I asked.
“If they have, it’s been private and they’re keeping quiet about it.” Herrera glanced at Wells. “The messages that popped up last year with the teen suicide were done from a generic email. It was traced to the school library.”
“So that’s the ghost texting some girls mentioned.” I sipped my beer.
“Probably,” explained Wells. “All you do is type the phone number, at, and the carrier’s messaging service. And since most kids at Peerless use iPhones, that makes figuring the carrier easy.”
“You think the Phantom is doing the same thing again?”
“It’s easy enough to do,” said Wells. “Could be a copycat, although it doesn’t make sense if the target is teachers.”
“Damn PeerNotes,” said Herrera. “They should have shut that thing down permanently.”
“Easier to monitor, Daniel,” said Wells. “If it wasn’t PeerNotes, the kids would use some other social media. What am I saying? They do use other kinds. It’s impossible to keep up.”
“I need to get on PeerNotes,” I said.
“PeerNotes uses push notifications for big announcements,” said Wells. “That’s how the announcement buzzes their phones. Mostly PeerNotes is just a bunch of news about school events, activities, homework updates, and then all the socializing between students.”
“So what about Pringle? Did you find anything about the private texts she received from the Phantom?” I asked.
Herrera leaned back in his chair. “Her phone’s at GBI. Low on their list since it’s a suicide.”
“My Uncle Will isn’t comfortable with her suicide. Why?”
Herrera shrugged. “We found bupropion in her medicine cabinet. Zyban. Bupropion’s an antidepressant.”
“Zyban’s used to kick a nicotine habit,” said Luke. “Doesn’t mean she was depressed.”
“I looked up the side effects and Zyban can cause anxiety and insomnia. Neighbors said she kept to herself,” said Wells. “Sometimes had late night visitors, but they were quiet.”
“Why do you think she committed suicide?” I said.
“I don’t know,” said Herrera. “She’s educated. Degree in business, minor in accounting. Good job. Nice house. But grew up in foster care. And didn’t make the wisest choices in her social life. That points to some issues. She liked to go to Little Verona’s restaurant and hang out in the bar. That’s where her buddy Olivia worked.”
“That’s the restaurant where Principal Cleveland saw her with Coach Newcomb,” I said.
Herrera narrowed his eyes. “Where’d you hear that?”
My cheeks heated, and I slapped a hand over the scrubbed out scribble on my arm. “Around.”
“It’s also where Dan Madsen, Ellis’s father, met her,” said Wells.
“Have y’all looked at monitoring PeerNotes?” asked Luke.
Herrera shrugged. “It’s a suicide. We’ve got other cases and until we get the analysis back, there’s not much more we can do.”
The conversation died as both men and Amelia Wells exchanged some sort of silent police dialogue, then planted their faces in their beer mugs.
I wasn’t ready to give up. “Do you think someone’s hot about Ellis Madsen’s suicide and pointing fingers at Peerless?”
Wells slammed her empty mug on the table. “Why would they do it now? What would be the point? Ellis Madsen died last year. If someone wanted to point fingers they should have done it a year ago.”
Herrera patted Wells’ sleeve. “This is nothing to do with Ellis. Just some jackass who thinks it’s funny to compare the two suicides.”
“That’s how you see it?” I asked.
“Yep.” Herrera tipped his beer back.
“What about the text Maranda Pringle received before her death?”
Herrera set the mug on the table. “That’s conjecture at this point since we don’t have evidence of a private text message. But we do know she was on medication, had no family or friends, and had issues with men. I don’t think the district attorney will be interested in prosecuting a nasty text even if it might have pushed her to suicide.”
“Mr. Tinsley,” I began and stopped at the look Herrera set on me.
“Mr. Tinsley seems to be as full of shit as everyone else at that stuck-up school.” He looked at Luke. “Are we done? The coroner has ruled it a suicide. Peerless is a bunch of asshole kids and asshole parents with money to burn and too much time on their hands. You’d think they’d feel some remorse after poor Ellis Madsen, but no. I’ve got too much to do to waste my time looking at their inane conversations on PeerNotes.”
“Come on, Cherry.” Luke stood up from the table and drew a twenty from his wallet. “Herrera, Wells. Thanks for your time. The beers are on me.”
“Wait.” I hooked my ankles around the legs of the chair. “What did the suicide note say? It bothered my Uncle Will.”
“It said ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.’” Wells folded her arms and leaned back. “Printed off her home printer. From her home computer.”
“If Uncle Will’s bothered by the note, there must be something there.” I jumped from my chair and, forgetting about the position of my feet, fell across the table. My elbow knocked into my beer, spilling a pool of suds across the table. Luke grabbed my elbow and hauled me to my feet before the beer soaked through my t-shirt. Beer splashed onto Wells’ uniform and rained onto her pants. She hopped to her feet, shaking off her wet hands.
“You idiot,” she seethed.
“It was an accident,” said Luke. “She tripped.”
“Here,” said Herrera, handing Wells some drink napkins.
She threw them back on the table. “What in the hell am I supposed to do with those? I’m soaked.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’ll get you a bar rag.”
“Get her out of here, Harper,” said Herrera.
I turned toward the bar and almost smacked into the chest of a beefy, young officer at the next table. His partner had also risen and stood with crossed arms, watching our scene. I made a slow pivot of the room and saw that all eyes, once again, were on me.
The big officer stared down at me. “I heard you say your name was Cherry Tucker. I remember your name from the paper. You like to get off on messing around with police i
nvestigations?” His eyes flicked from me to Luke.
“Excuse me?” I said.
A hand clamped onto my shoulder. “She’s not messing around, Pettit. Cherry’s with me.”
“Your badge bunny, Harper?” Pettit’s eyes took a long trip over my jeans and Stunt top. “I figured you for a higher brand of beer goggles. Or are you screwing someone else’s fiancé now?”
Oh shit, I thought and ducked as Luke’s fist swung over my head and cracked into Pettit’s jaw. Luke pushed me away and leapt into Pettit’s tackle. The room erupted into hoots and calls. Tables were shoved out of the way with a speed and accuracy that seemed choreographed.
Twenty seconds later, I was squirming under Herrera’s arm as he hauled me toward the door. “I can’t leave Luke in there.”
“Sure you can,” said Herrera. “This has been building for some time. Badges only.” He shoved me out the door and locked it behind me.
“Badges only, my ass. Who am I gonna call to break up this fight?” I pounded on the door to no effect and then ran to the blacked out window, searching for some crack to peer through. They had painted that sucker well.
I collapsed onto the bench next to the moldy Jack-o-lantern, folding my arms around my knees. Ten minutes later, I heard the chunk of the lock turning in the door. Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed the door handle and yanked. Luke staggered over the threshold, holding to his cheek a bar napkin spilling ice. His t-shirt collar had been ripped and his jeans were soaked with beer.
“Oh my Lord.” I ducked under his shoulder to support him. “What in the hell was that?”
He smiled and a drool of blood oozed out the corner of his thickening lip. “Fun.”
Sixteen
“I should take you home.” I had jacked up Luke’s seat and perched on the edge to see the road over the Raptor’s dash. “You look like a hot mess.”
“I’m fine.” Luke winced as he reapplied the ice to his lip. “We should go to Little Verona’s and see if that Olivia is working. Maybe she’ll know if Pringle actually got a text or not.”
“I guess I’ve shown up places looking worse.” I grabbed the keys, ready to feel the power of four hundred and eleven horses when my phone whistled the theme from The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.
I left the truck in park and reached into my satchel. Glancing at the familiar but unrecognizable phone number, I answered with a tentative, “Hello?”
“Miss Tucker,” said Tinsley. “Are you out and about, perchance?”
“Perchance I am, Mr. Tinsley. What can I do for you?” I raised my brows at Luke.
He tossed the ice out the window and slid closer.
“I’m still at the theater, finishing up my audition notes so I can post the roles on PeerNotes tonight.” Tinsley paused. “I received another message. About the auditions.”
“Do you want me to come to Peerless?”
“It would be of great comfort if you would,” said Tinsley. “The auditions are public knowledge, but the Phantom suggested I am watched.”
“You need to show me the message. Don’t delete it. The police may be able to trace it.”
“I understand.”
His low, sorrowful voice affected a slight English accent. Which made me wonder if he really understood or if he enjoyed the limelight.
Didn’t matter. I was on the Phantom like white on rice.
I hung up and scooted to face Luke. “Can’t go to Little Verona’s now. I’ve been called to school. I’ll drive us back so I can get my truck.”
“That’s way out of your way. I’ll just go with you.” He hung an arm on the back of the seat.
I squinted in the dusky light. “You’re getting a shiner. Who’s Pettit anyway? Don’t tell me you were just defending my honor. I know better. Y’all have history.”
“Anthony Pettit is a jackass. Has been since high school. The badge did not improve upon his personality.” Luke tugged on my ponytail. “What’s going on with Tinsley? He got another text?”
I ignored the tug, flipped to face the steering wheel, and started his truck. “That he did. He sounded scared.”
“A grown man’s calling you in to protect him?”
“He feels persecuted. And my alleged dealings with criminals make me look bigger than I am.” I smirked. “Anyway, you didn’t answer my question. Who’s Pettit?”
Luke crossed his arms over his chest. “Nobody important enough to talk about. I’m fine, how about I drive?”
“No point in switching now.” I smiled and revved his engine. “I’ve wanted to drive this bad boy for some time.”
“Just be careful with her.”
“Her? No way is this truck female.” I floored the accelerator, taking advantage of riding with a cop.
“Sure, she is.” Luke stroked a hand over the center console. “She’s pretty.”
“Your Raptor’s all jacked up on knobby tires. How is that pretty?”
“Pretty to me.” Luke settled into the bucket seat, but fixed his eyes on me. “That’s what counts. Some guys like the long lines of a sports car or the shape of a bigger truck, but I think she’s pretty. The Raptor’s got a fire in her belly I like.”
I felt a warm tingle creep from my toes, slide up my legs, and send a flush up the back of my neck.
“Sometimes she’s temperamental, but I know just how to get her going. Especially when she’s cold. I just ease onto the gas. Fill her belly, you know? Get her to purr.”
I clamped a hand over my stomach and felt heat burning through my t-shirt.
Luke folded his arms behind his head and gazed at the windshield. “Then I lay on the accelerator, get her motor cranking, and floor it. She just comes alive beneath me. Sometimes she bucks, but then smooths out and we just tear up the highway. Pistons pumping and burning up her fuel.”
I swiped at the perspiration accumulating at the nape of my neck.
“Her seats are real soft, too. Just love to ease into these seats, although sometimes I’ve got to adjust myself to get the right fit. But when I do, she’s so comfortable. I’ve slept in them often enough.”
Grabbing the collar of my shirt, I flapped it away from my chest. I leaned forward to adjust the vents. “How about some air?”
Luke pushed my hand away. “Keep it on ten and two, sugar. Let me fiddle with the buttons. I know what to do.”
I gripped the steering wheel, trying to focus on the road before me. A blast of cool air dowsed my body and I sighed.
“See?” Luke’s voice sniggered. “I know how to get you feeling just right.”
Luke and I waited for Tinsley behind the school by the back theater entrance. Beneath the harvest moon, the castle-like exterior of the school cast shadows better made for a gothic horror movie. I waited for a murder of crows to flap across the sky and a dude in a hockey mask and hatchet to round the side of the building. I shivered and hugged my arms against my chest.
“Are you cold?” asked Luke, rubbing his hands together. “You want me to warm you up?”
I thought about his truck and shook my head. A little cool off was exactly what I needed. “I hope Tinsley kept this text. Why does he have to be so secretive with me when he wants my help?”
“He must be embarrassed. Or guilty.”
The metal door shifted, then heaved open. Tinsley blocked it with his body, giving off an odor of stale coffee and sweat. He had rolled up his sleeves, and wisps of his thinning hair stood as if electrified.
Even his bald dome had lost its shine. Every time I suspected Tinsley of over-dramatizing, he did something that made me feel sorry for him.
I greeted him and introduced Luke as a friend. Revealing Luke as police might cause Tinsley to assume a new character, and I’d rather Luke see the real Tinsley. Or as close to real as Tinsley could get.
; Tinsley gave Luke’s ripped shirt and shiner a long look, but stepped to the side to let us in. “Thank you for coming.”
We followed him down a short corridor and passed through another door into the long hall that ran behind the stage. I really needed a map for this place. Or a sherpa.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“It’s been a long, stressful night as auditions usually are,” said Tinsley.
“Do the kids give you a hard time?”
“The students know where they stand with me.” Tinsley held open another door. The green room with the bean bag chairs. “The parents, however, do not always agree with my decisions.”
Luke glanced around the drama lounge before following us into Tinsley’s office. “Let’s see this text.”
“It wasn’t a text. A message on PeerNotes. Our Phantom did not seem satisfied to keep this private.” Tinsley walked behind his desk, tapped his mouse, and turned his computer monitor to face us. “Evidence to humiliate me, I suppose.”
Luke and I approached the desk and bent to look at the monitor. At the top of the screen, “PeerNotes” written in large, cursive script overlaid a misty photo of the exterior of Peerless Day Academy. Beneath the heading, short posts fed on to the screen in a slow, continuous stream. Some content had photos or videos attached, while others only had text. Tinsley paged down and clicked on a post. The screen changed to bring up the message in full view.
A series of blurry photos showed Tinsley sitting at a table with a large coffee, an even larger binder, and a pile of papers. Some of the photos showed him examining what looked like glossy head shots. Another photo showed him massaging his scalp while he scowled at the mess of papers. The final photo showed him dumping the paper into a trash can. The caption read, “Then I defy you, stars.”
“It’s a quote from Romeo and Juliet,” said Tinsley.
“That’s not so bad,” I said. “Looks like someone with sour grapes about your choice in cast.”
“These were taken after the auditions were finished and everyone had gone home,” he said. “That’s what makes me nervous. I was alone in the theater. That table was on the stage.”
DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE Page 13