DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE Read online

  Praise for Larissa Reinhart’s Cherry Tucker Mysteries

  DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (#4)

  “Death in Perspective is one fasten-your-seatbelt, pedal-to-the-metal mystery, and Cherry Tucker is the perfect sleuth to have behind the wheel. Smart, feisty, as tough as she is tender, Cherry’s got justice in her crosshairs, and Death in Perspective is an accomplished addition to this winning series.”

  – Tina Whittle,

  Author of the Tai Randolph Mysteries

  “Loved it! I feel I might have dated Cherry Tucker once, she’s that real; she’s also funny, tough, and brilliant. Now she’s even involved in theatre—maybe that’s where we met.”

  – Phillip DePoy,

  Edgar Award Winning Author

  “Reinhart succeeds in mixing laughter with the serious topic of cyber-bully through blogs and texts, all the while developing a chemistry between Cherry and Luke that absolutely sizzles.”

  – Kings River Life Magazine

  “Cherry is a quirky spitfire that lights the match that sets her little town on fire. With a laugh here and a laugh there, I enjoyed this whodunit and I’m eager to see what happens next in the adventures of Cherry Tucker.”

  – Dru’s Book Musings

  “Artist and accidental detective Cherry Tucker goes back to high school and finds plenty of trouble and skeletons…Reinhart’s charming, sweet-tea flavored series keeps getting better!”

  – Gretchen Archer,

  USA Today Bestselling Author of the Davis Way Crime Caper Series

  HIJACK IN ABSTRACT (#3)

  “The fast-paced plot careens through small-town politics and deadly rivalries, with zany side trips through art-world shenanigans and romantic hijinx. Like front-porch lemonade, Reinhart’s cast of characters offer a perfect balance of tart and sweet.”

  – Sophie Littlefield,

  Bestselling Author of A Bad Day for Sorry

  “Cherry is back–tart-tongued and full of sass. With her paint-stained fingers in every pie, she’s in for a truckload of trouble.”

  – J.J. Murphy,

  Author of the Algonquin Round Table Mysteries

  “Bless her heart. Artist Cherry Tucker just can’t help chasing after justice, even when it lands her up to her eyeballs in Russian gangsters, sexy exes, and treacherous truckers. A rambunctious mystery as Southern as chess pie and every bit as delectable.”

  – Jane Sevier,

  Author of the Psychic Socialite 1930s Memphis Mysteries

  “A true work of art…I didn’t want this book to end! I was so caught up in Cherry’s crazy life, I wanted to just keep reading.”

  – Gayle Trent,

  Author of Battered to Death

  “Reinhart manages to braid a complicated plot into a tight and funny tale...Cozy fans will love this latest Cherry Tucker mystery.”

  – Mary Marks,

  New York Journal of Books

  “Cherry Tucker’s got an artist’s palette of problems, but she handles them better than da Vinci on a deadline. Bust out your gesso and get primed for humor, hijackings, and a handful of hunks!”

  – Diane Vallere,

  Author of the Style & Error and Mad for Mod Mystery Series

  STILL LIFE IN BRUNSWICK STEW (#2)

  “Reinhart’s country-fried mystery is as much fun as a ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl at a state fair. Her sleuth wields a paintbrush and unravels clues with equal skill and flair. Readers who like a little small-town charm with their mysteries will enjoy Reinhart’s series.”

  — Denise Swanson,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of the Scumble River and Devereaux’s Dime Store Mysteries

  “Still Life in Brunswick Stew proves beyond doubt that Larissa Reinhart and her delightful amateur sleuth Cherry Tucker will be around to entertain us for many books to come.”

  – Lois Winston,

  Author of the Anastasia Pollack Crafting Mystery series

  “Cherry Tucker finds trouble without even looking for it, and plenty of it finds her in Still Life in Brunswick Stew…this mystery keeps you laughing and guessing from the first page to the last. A whole-hearted five stars.”

  – Denise Grover Swank,

  New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author

  “Reinhart lined up suspects like a pinsetter in a bowling alley, and darned if I could figure out which ones to knock down...Can’t wait to see what Cherry paints herself into next.”

  – Donnell Ann Bell,

  Bestselling Author of The Past Came Hunting

  “The hilariously droll Larissa Reinhart cooks up a quirky and entertaining page-turner! This charming mystery is delightfully Southern, surprisingly edgy, and deliciously unpredictable.”

  – Hank Phillippi Ryan,

  Agatha, Anthony and Macavity Award-Winning Author

  PORTRAIT OF A DEAD GUY (#1)

  “Portrait of a Dead Guy is an entertaining mystery full of quirky characters and solid plotting…Highly recommended for anyone who likes their mysteries strong and their mint juleps stronger!”

  — Jennie Bentley,

  New York Times Bestselling Author of Flipped Out

  “Reinhart is a truly talented author and this book was one of the best cozy mysteries we reviewed this year…We highly recommend this book to all lovers of mystery books. Our Rating: 4.5 Stars.”

  — Mystery Tribune

  “The tone of this marvelously cracked book is not unlike Sophie Littlefield’s brilliant A Bad Day for Sorry, as author Reinhart dishes out shovelfuls of ribald humor and mayhem.”

  – Betty Webb,

  Mystery Scene Magazine

  “Larissa Reinhart’s masterfully crafted whodunit, Portrait of a Dead Guy, provides high-octane action with quirky, down-home characters and a trouble-magnet heroine who’ll steal readers’ hearts.”

  —Debby Giusti,

  Author of The Captain’s Mission and The Colonel’s Daughter

  “A fun, fast-paced read and a rollicking start to her Cherry Tucker Mystery Series. If you like your stories southern-fried with a side of romance, this book’s for you!”

  — Leslie Tentler,

  Author of Midnight Caller

  Books in the Cherry Tucker Mystery Series

  by Larissa Reinhart

  Novels

  PORTRAIT OF A DEAD GUY (#1)

  STILL LIFE IN BRUNSWICK STEW (#2)

  HIJACK IN ABSTRACT (#3)

  DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (#4)

  Novellas

  QUICK SKETCH (prequel to PORTRAIT)

  (in HEARTACHE MOTEL)

  Copyright Information

  DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE

  A Cherry Tucker Mystery

  Part of the Henery Press Mystery Collection

  First Edition

  Digital epub edition | June 2014

  Henery Press

  www.henerypress.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Henery Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Copyright © 2014 by Larissa Hoffman

  Author photograph by Scott Asano

  This is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or lo
cales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-940976-19-4

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Trey, Sophie, and Luci.

  You are my greatest blessing.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thank you to Diana Concepcion, Noel Holland, and Phillip Depoy for your advice and expertise. Also to my fellow hens Gretchen Archer, Terri L. Austin, and LynDee Walker for their friendship and input. Gina Neibrugge and Sally Reinhart for helping me to plot over margaritas. To all the Mystery Minions for their friendship and support. Love you guys! To Dru Ann Love for the cover release opportunities and encouragement. To Ann Charles for reading while writing and preparing for a move. Tina Whittle for reading and recommending Tai’s doppleganger to your fans. Trey and the girls for putting up with a wife/mother with W.S.B.S. (writer’s scattered brain syndrome). And to everyone at Henery Press who puts Cherry Tucker in readers’ hands, especially my incredibly talented and indefatigable editor, Kendel Flaum, who has taken a fledgling press and given it giant raptor wings.

  One

  Someone should have told me Maranda Pringle was dead. For the past twenty minutes, I’d been sitting in her office, picking at my Toulouse La’Lilac painted nails and wondering where in the hell Miss Pringle could be. Hindsight later taught me she’d be found somewhere in that mystical realm between the Peerless Day Academy and the Great Beyond, but currently, it ticked me off that Miss Pringle had clearly forgotten I had a twelve o’clock appointment with Principal Cleveland. I had spent plenty of time waiting on principals in my previous life as a high school troublemaker, so waiting on one now had brought back feelings of anxiety.

  Which was why my nails appeared so spotty.

  Before I had the nerve to leave Miss Pringle’s small antechamber and knock on Principal Cleveland’s door, another woman entered Miss Pringle’s room and proceeded to stare at me for a long five seconds before finding her voice. Her blunt blonde bob, expensive blue suit, and no-nonsense designer pumps gave her a look of authority, but a snazzy, silk scarf knotted around her neck said, “I’m also fashionable.”

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Why are you in Miss Pringle’s office?”

  “I’m Cherry Tucker. I’m waiting for Principal Cleveland to discuss my clearance for working with the drama department on the backdrop and props for Romeo and Juliet.”

  My fingers flew to smooth my cornsilk blonde strands and straighten my belted Bert and Ernie t-shirt dress. I had figured school personnel would appreciate Sesame Street characters as educational innovators. And as most teachers I knew wore khakis and polo shirts and I owned neither a khaki nor a polo, retrofitted Sesame Street attire from the Big Boys department would have to do for an interview.

  “I am the assistant principal, Brenda Cooke. Why would the drama department need help with the stage art? We have a fully equipped art department.”

  I waited a moment to see if the question was rhetorical. Then I remembered this was a school and teachers expected answers. “I got a call from a Mr. Tinsley needing an artist to help with ‘original art pieces’ for his ‘avant-garde’ musical production of Romeo and Juliet. Why he doesn’t ask the art teacher, I haven’t the faintest. But here I am.”

  When she didn’t respond, I added, “I’m an artist. Portrait artist by trade, but classically trained at Savannah College of Art and Design in a number of genres. I’m also a graduate of Halo High School, and although I know your school is located near Line Creek, I figure you don’t have the animosity toward Halo’s Fighting Angels that Line Creek Legions does. As you’re a private school and all.”

  “I’m not sure about this,” said Ms. Cooke. “I can get you the background check paperwork, though. At the moment, I need you to leave this office. Why don’t you leave your card with me and Principal Cleveland or I will get back with you.”

  I knew what that meant. I stuck my proverbial foot in the metaphorical door. “How about I swing by later today? Your drama teacher wanted me to start as soon as possible.”

  “Today is not a good day.” Ms. Cooke’s shoulders sagged, and she dropped her principal swagger. “Actually, we just learned we lost Miss Pringle this past weekend. Principal Cleveland is at her home right now and this afternoon we’re having an emergency staff meeting.”

  “Bless your heart. I’m sorry to hear that. I had no idea.” My cheeks reddened at my hustle to gain a job when the school had just lost their secretary.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t aware of your appointment.” She offered a faint smile and took my business card. “After the staff meeting, I’ll talk to Mr. Tinsley, our drama teacher, and find out what’s going on. He has his own budget and tends to make unilateral decisions. I didn’t realize he had spoken to Mr. Cleveland about hiring you.”

  “No problem.” I smiled. “I’m very sorry to hear about Miss Pringle, though. Was she sick?”

  “It was unexpected.”

  I reached for Ms. Cooke’s hands and squeezed. “That’s just horrible.”

  Ms. Cooke nodded. “Thank you. It’s tragic, but I’m worried about the school. I don’t want to see our students suffer from this loss.”

  “Of course.” I dropped her hands and turned to pick up my portfolio bag.

  “I’ll get you the fingerprint cards and forms for the background check. Drop them off at your convenience.” She moved to stoop behind Miss Pringle’s desk, thumbed through her file drawer, and returned with the forms.

  I slipped them into my satchel. “Thank you, ma’am. Sorry again to hear about poor Miss Pringle.”

  I left Ms. Cooke in the small office and walked into the large reception area. Students chatted in small groups and harried teachers trotted through, clutching reams of copies in their arms. At the front desk, I eyed the woman who had sent me to poor Miss Pringle’s office and wondered why no one had told her Miss Pringle would no longer take visitors. The brunette did not have the khakis look. She had the sleek haircut, chunky jewelry, and tasteful yet cleavage-baring top of someone who had never considered pursuing the not-for-profit world of teaching.

  I stopped at the front desk and leaned a hip against the counter.

  Mrs. Brunette raised a freshly waxed eyebrow and ran her eyes over Bert and Ernie. “Can I help you? Why aren’t you in uniform? Are you new?”

  “I’m not a student. I’m Cherry Tucker, the artist. You just sent me to Mr. Cleveland’s office.”

  Mrs. Brunette turned slightly in her chair, enough to deliver the message that she didn’t want to talk to me. “Right, I forgot. Did you need directions somewhere?”

  “No, there’s something you need to know. It’s about sending folks into Miss Pringle’s office.”

  Mrs. Brunette sighed. “Yes?”

  “Don’t do it anymore today.”

  “Thank you,” she wiggled French manicured fingers in dismissal.

  “Don’t you want to know why?” The funny thing about dismissing me, it makes me want to stay. “Are you on staff here? You don’t look like a teacher.”

  “Good Lord, no. I’m a parent. We’re required to volunteer and this is one of my days.” She readjusted so I could get the full frontal. Her cleavage showed a lift and separate appropriate for packaging bowling balls. Except she didn’t need a bra. “I’m Pamela Hargraves. We live in Ballantyne.”

  Ballantyne Estates was an exclusive, gated community in Aureate County. Ballantyne culled folks who liked horse stables and golf course views with their country living. That and easy interstate access to Atlanta. Although inside Forks County, Peerless Day Academy hovered near the border of neighboring Aureate County because of a strange bite chomped out of Forks County’s northwestern corner. A nibble almost taken from the township of Line Creek, which ticked those city officials off to no end.

  “I suppose a
lot of students come from Ballantyne. Y’all aren’t too far from here. Like a twenty minute drive?”

  “Yes. There’s a bus, but my Kadence refuses to take it.”

  “Of course she does.”

  “We gave her a Volvo. Totally safe, but she’s not allowed to drive it until she’s sixteen.”

  “I know how frustrating that is. I started driving my Grandpa Ed’s tractor when I was twelve. I learned how to drive the Jeep at fourteen. Stick shift, too. Used to take it out to the back forty to bring in the cows. Seemed ridiculous I wasn’t allowed on the roads for another two years.”

  Pamela cocked her head, unsure if I was serious. “Anyway, what did you need?”

  “It’s Miss Pringle. She passed yesterday. So don’t send anyone to her room today.”

  Pamela leaned forward, gripping my arm with her multi-ringed fingers. “No. Way. That bitch is dead?”

  I cleared my throat and gave her the stare my now deceased Grandma Jo had used when I forgot my manners. “Yes, ma’am. Poor Miss Pringle.”

  “Have you met Miss Pringle?” Pamela wrinkled her nose.

  “No, but I know enough not to speak ill of the dead.”

  “I should be sorry, but that woman made Kadence’s life miserable.”

  I know this is where a better person should not give in to the call of gossip, particularly since Pamela Hargraves didn’t seem to have a remorseful bone in her toned and botoxed body, but sometimes I’m just not a better person. Instead, I grabbed a nearby chair and scooted in next to her.