“Don’t worry about that now. What else did you see?”
“I called 9-1-1, but dropped the phone. She had a burn mark behind her ear.” I clapped a hand over my mouth. “Lord have mercy, she shot herself in the head.”
In two steps, Luke pulled me into the safety of his arms. Pressing my head against his chest, he rubbed my back. “Did you see anyone in the room?”
“I think we were in a hallway. I was going to perform CPR. I can’t remember anything else.”
“I want you to see your Uncle Will first thing. Get your sister or somebody to take you. Tell the Sheriff everything you remember. Talk to him before Herrera. If I can, I’ll meet you at Line Creek police.” He kissed the top of my head. “I have to get. A deputy on call needs my help.”
I nodded against his chest. There didn’t seem to be a lot of good in this morning. Grandma Jo had tried to warn me about what happened to wanton women. Unfortunately, she hadn’t mentioned head wounds, dead bodies, and police stations.
“Cherry, look at me.” Luke used a finger to tip my chin up. “You have to be careful about what you say and what you do. Not only should you get out of this hunt for the texter, you should probably quit your theater gig.”
“I’ll call Tinsley later,” I hedged. “But what about the lawyer? Am I going to need a lawyer?”
“Sheriff Thompson will advise you. I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go.” He dropped a kiss on my lips. “Don’t worry. It’ll all work out. I’ll find you.” The dimples reappeared. “Besides we’ve got some unfinished business that should take place when you’re not concussed.”
Maybe I wasn’t so wanton after all. I wanted to ask, “What about us? Would we work out?” But I had already stepped into my big girl panties and figured the two ship thing might have to do for now, considering Cody and Tara. And the fact that I wasn’t about to stop my hunt for the texter or quit my theater gig.
And those were the kinds of facts that tended to cause a rift between Luke and I. Better we had our little moment before passing in the night.
Back to our separate sides of the tracks.
Ships continued to pass as Todd rolled in soon after Luke had rolled out. By that time I had showered and replaced the Talladega t-shirt with jeans, a tank, and a comfy orange and grape flannel shirt. I decided to remove last night from my mind and pretend the party under the sheets never happened. I had succumbed. I was weak. Achilles had a heel. Samson had his hair.
I had gray eyes and dimples.
I reckoned I’d just blame it on my concussion. A sore noggin had to be good for something.
At my kitchen table, I attempted to lighten the circles under my eyes with a pot of coffee and to jog my memory with a sketch pad. My roommate and husband-that-never-really-was appeared in my doorway, dragging a shot of early morning chill inside with his haggard expression. Crossing from the kitchen door, Todd snagged a cup and poured his own shot of caffeine before joining me at the table.
My guilt-ridden, enthusiastic greeting embarrassed myself.
“You alone, baby?” His drawl had gone cautious and edgy.
I blushed. “You see anyone else here?”
He slanted a look down the hall before burying his face in his coffee cup. The skin around his wide, cerulean eyes wore new creases and smudges.
“I’m guessing you didn’t find Cody,” I said. “Thank y’all for looking, though.”
“I’m worried about Cody, too. He’s like a brother to me.” Todd slumped in his chair. “How’s your head?”
“Still attached.” I grimaced. “I’m gathering courage before heading to the Sheriff’s Office.” I gave him a scant report of what had happened.
“You think this teacher was murdered or committed suicide?”
“Two suicides? If it had been teens, there could be copycats, but not these adults. I don’t know Dr. Vail, but every time I’ve seen her she’s either on the verge of a hissy or royally pissed. Doesn’t sound like a suicide victim to me. And the gun bothers me.”
“Why?”
“My memory is still fuzzy to be sure, but I can’t recall seeing a handgun. Luke said the police found one on her.”
“Maybe you were too focused on other stuff. You did find her bleeding out.”
“Maybe. Look at what I’ve drawn from memory.” I flipped back a page in the sketch book. “I just doodled, hoping it would trigger something. I’ve got her lying between a table and a door. I don’t know what room she’s in, but I was able to sketch her position pretty well. I knew she didn’t wear shoes.”
“That’s a good detail,” said Todd.
“Thanks. And something about her clothes. All wrapped around her or twisted up. I can’t remember. But she was fond of long tunics and leggings.”
“Maybe the gun was underneath her clothes,” said Todd.
“True.” I tapped the sketch pad. “They found my phone under her body. But why would someone knock me out and drag me from her body if she had committed suicide? Unless I had interrupted them planting the gun.”
“Maybe they thought you had hurt Dr. Vail, so they attacked you.” Todd paused, tipping his head to the side. His forehead creased, reminding me of a confused puppy. “Then moved you?”
“Then why run when the police showed?”
“So they wouldn’t get in trouble? Maybe they left you for the police to find.”
“Which is something a teenager might do,” I conceded. “Freak out, then run. They must have been hiding in the house.”
“You think it was the same person texting everybody?”
“That I don’t know. I’m ninety-nine percent positive Dr. Vail was murdered. Even with my faulty memory. But did the so-called prank texts cause Maranda to commit suicide or was she murdered? I want to know where Maranda got the ADHD meds. Maybe Preston King? I wish I could talk to that boy.”
I sighed, pushing away the notebook to lay my aching head on the table. “Herrera brought Preston King in for selling the fake shrooms, but his parents got him a lawyer. Most likely he’s untouchable.”
“You think he’s behind all this?”
“No idea. The idea of a kid so malicious that he’d drive somebody else to kill is so shudder inducing, I can’t imagine it. Could you picture a seventeen-year-old evil genius? And an art student, for heaven’s sake. I hope to God he’s just a drug dealer.”
“Baby, after what’s happened, maybe you should leave it to the police.”
My hair moved from my face and I blinked up at Todd reaching across the table. He looked like a pointer sighting a quail, quivery yet still. I sat up and patted his hand to let him know I’d be all right.
“The police are on the case. They’re all over Dr. Vail’s murder, which means a lot of focus on Amber’s robbery homicide and Pringle’s suspicious death.” I sighed. “But I need to know who sent those text messages. I did not finish the job. What if my failure means someone else is going to get hurt?”
“What are you going to do?” asked Todd.
“Maranda Pringle, Vail, and Tinsley reacted badly to those texts. What if Tinsley is next? The PeerNotes messaging seems to focus on him.”
That fear broke goosebumps under my flannel shirt. I shivered. “I’m supposed to be protecting Tinsley, and all I’ve done is suspect him. Mostly of being self-centered and snarky.”
“Baby, you’re taking it too hard. This Tinsley sounds like his brain’s gone south.”
“Gone south or not, I made a promise to him.” I stared into my coffee cup and wondered if they served coffee in jail. Line Creek used the county lockup. I could probably get Tara to sneak me in some java with her Bible lessons.
“What’s that?” Todd pointed to an area I had sketched on the side, separate from the body.
“I don’t know,” I said. “It keeps coming back
to me. Just a dark image.”
“Looks like a cape.”
“A cape?” I squinted at the pad, then turned it upside down to view it from another angle. “Dangit, if you’re not right.”
“I like it when you say that.” Todd grinned.
“I’ve gotta go.” I hopped from my seat, leaving the sketch pad and coffee, and began hunting for my truck keys. “Aw hell, my truck must be part of a crime scene. And my phone.”
“Should you be driving anyway? I’ll give you a ride to the police station.” Todd yawned. “I called in to work. Said I’d been at the hospital all night. Which is mostly true.”
I laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re sweet, but you need sleep. You look like you’re going to fall into your coffee. I’ll get someone else to take me.”
“Okay.” Todd kissed my hand, then yawned. “Good luck at the station.”
“Thanks, hon’.” I ruffled his hair. “You’re a good friend. Sweet dreams.”
“You keep my life exciting.” He smiled. “When you move boxes for a living, you need some excitement. Especially since I gave up poker.”
I gave him an extra hug for guilt. My kind of excitement would get a risk-taker like Todd in trouble. Therefore, I felt it best not to let on that I’d be stopping at Peerless before turning myself into the police. Tinsley had a cape. Either Tinsley was our evil genius or he was in a shitload of trouble.
Whichever, I had to keep my eye on the man.
Twenty-Nine
A normal person found at a crime scene and thought to be a potential witness/suspect would immediately report to the police station. Lucky for Tinsley, I’m not a normal person. And lucky for me, my neighbor, Mr. Johnson, was headed to Line Creek. I made it to Peerless in time for third period.
After scooting through the parking lot, I found the front doors locked and pressed on the buzzer that alerted the office to guests. A bubble camera attached to the buzzer aligned with my forehead and a voice sounding like Pamela Hargraves gave a tentative, “Hello?”
“Miss Pamela? It’s Cherry.” I jumped so she could see me in the camera. “What gives? I can’t get in.”
“Hey Cherry, we’re on lockdown. Ms. Cooke thought it prudent what with Dr. Vail’s death, but we’re trying not to make a big deal about it. I just have to buzz you in.”
“I’m headed to the theater and I’m late. Any possibility you could send a student to meet me in the lobby with my pass?” I crossed my fingers, hoping I could avoid the office, Tara, and Ms. Cooke’s eagle eye.
“I guess that’d be all right.” Pamela paused. “I’ll sign you in.”
“Thank you.” I hopped, hoping she could see my smile of thanks.
A buzzer sang and I slipped through the front door, reminding me of the Sheriff’s Office. Tamara would not have let me through so easily, but Pamela was no Tamara.
Thank goodness.
A security guard leaned against a wall and nodded as I entered. I smiled back and strode toward the approaching office girl. Her long, straight hair swung as she skipped toward me. I grabbed the lanyard she handed me, hung it around my neck, and shot toward the arts wing.
At the fine arts double doors, I paused, wondering if Preston King attended school that day.
I hauled the door open and poked my head into the vestibule. Between the drawing and sculpture studio doors, a student leaned against the wall working magic on her smart phone. She jerked her head up at my entrance.
“I’m heading to the bathroom,” she said, pointing in some vague direction.
“Of course you are, hon’,” I said. “Must have gotten an important message to get you off track.”
She had pale skin that easily turned an unfortunate mottled shade of Royal Purple Lake. “Well, there’s the announcement about the lockdown on PeerNotes.”
“I’m sure there’s a lot of comments about that. What did Preston say?”
Royal Purple Lake flared into Madder Red Lake. “Preston says Peerless killed Dr. Vail. He’s angry.”
“And working on revenge?”
Madder Red Lake heated to Burgundy Wine Red. “Of course he is. Dr. Vail was the only teacher who cared about him. Preston’s a brilliant artist and no one outside fine arts can see that.”
“If he’s a brilliant artist, someone will notice,” I said, wondering if his brilliance ran toward evil. “What is Preston planning to do?”
“For college?”
“No.” I tempered my nervous shout. “About Dr. Vail. What’s his revenge strategy? Is he at school today? How angry is he?”
“He’s suspended for the shroom thing. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” The girl had gone vermillion and began edging toward the drawing studio door. “I need to get back to class.”
I left her and ran toward the theater, agonizing between searching for the cape and checking on Tinsley. I banged through the double doors and into the drama lobby where Laurence reclined on a bean bag, reading. He lifted his head as I rushed past. I jiggled the handle to Tinsley’s office door. Locked.
Of all the times to begin locking doors.
“Tinsley’s on the stage,” said Laurence, his eyes back on his book. “Are we painting now?”
“Laurence, does Mr. Tinsley have his cape today?”
“I don’t know.”
“I need to get in his office, could you get his keys for me?”
“Will this count toward my participation grade?”
“Good grief. Yes, I’ll mark it toward your participation.”
“Let me finish this page.” Laurence held up a finger and continued to read.
I kicked the beanbag.
Sighing, he dogeared the page and rose.
“I’m aging here,” I said, dancing before the locked door. “And you don’t have to mention to Tinsley that I need to get in. Just say you need something from his office.”
Laurence halted his turtle-like pace. “What would I ever need from Mr. Tinsley’s office?”
“You need to read a play?” I guessed. “Something old and boring?”
“Aristophanes.” Laurence nodded. “Got it. And why am I doing this for you?”
I waved him on. “So I won’t tell Tara you’re skipping class again. What are you missing? Phys Ed?”
He glared at me, then donned his inside-out coat and schlepped to the stage door. I paced the room. Approximating glacier melt speed, Laurence returned with the keys. He watched as I jimmied a master into the lock, shoved the keys in my pocket, and pushed open the door. Cutting the lights on, I darted to the coat stand in the corner. A trilby hat, windbreaker, and hooked cane hung from the brass arms.
“No cape.” I rushed past Laurence to the desk. A sports coat draped the back of the desk chair. I poked around the drawers, under the desk, the coffee credenza, and the file cabinet. “No cape.”
Now what?
“He’s wearing it,” said Laurence.
I turned toward the doorway where Laurence stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Why didn’t you say so?”
I shot past Laurence, yelling over my shoulder to lock the door, and rushed to the stage. Either Tinsley was an absolute idiot for wearing the cape, incredibly ballsy, or didn’t know it was evidence from a crime scene. I banked on ignorance.
Yanking open the stage door, I stumbled up the steps and bumped through tables of props, racks of costumes, and a collection of giant, paper maché bubbles. Pushing through the curtain, I found Tinsley sitting cross-legged on his table with the cape draped over his shoulders. He spoke to an invisible object sitting in the palm of his upraised hand. Beneath him, the students focused on the invisible object. At my bumble-halt, Tinsley’s hand fell and the students’ gaze followed the tumbling, invisible object to the floor.
“Yes?” Tinsley dron
ed.
“I need your cape,” I said. “And you might think about calling in a substitute today.”
“Impossible,” said Tinsley. “I can not be replaced.”
“It’s important.”
“I literally can not be replaced, the sub list is full.” He climbed from the table and strode toward me, pulling off the cape. “And why do you need my cape?”
I motioned for him to follow me offstage. Tinsley glanced over his shoulder at his students, eagerly watching our production. “Hamlet. Act five. Scene one. Get a partner and do the soliloquy, one as Hamlet and the other as Yorrick. Take turns so you can both hold Yorrick’s head. I’ll be right back.”
“Did you leave this cape at school this weekend?” I said, bunching it in my arms.
“Of course,” he said. “Why would I wear it home?”
“Because I think someone borrowed it to murder Dr. Vail.”
Tinsley paled and grabbed the front of his shirt.
I snagged his arm as his knees buckled. “You’re going to be okay. I’m on it.”
“Someone is portraying me as a murderer? I thought Dr. Vail committed suicide.”
“If that’s the news, then the police haven’t broadcast her suspicious death as homicide yet. That’s why they’re going to need this cape.”
“And how do you know of the cape?” Tinsley’s face remained white, but he raised his goatee and peered at me below his glasses.
“I saw someone who might have been wearing a cape. I can’t remember the details, but the cape is burned in my mind.”
“The noose tightens.” Tinsley fingered his neck. “The Phantom looks to hang me for his own vile deeds.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But we still don’t know the reason. What happened with you and the Tiny Tony?”
Tinsley’s swagger disappeared, making his goatee droop. “A cauldron of lies. Did the rumor appear on PeerNotes?”
“No, I guessed.” I eyed him. “And what exactly did the cauldron of lies say? It’s too late to cover up. Spit out the truth so I can figure out this mess.”
DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE Page 24