DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE Read online

  “What did Miss Pringle do to Kadence? I just assumed she was some kind of spinster with love in her heart for children. I also figured her for the house full of cats type.”

  In my imagination, Miss Pringle secretly gave butterscotch candies to the troublemakers leaving the principal’s office. She knew the troublemaker didn’t mean to bust Elvira Jenkins’ nose. Fists tended to fly when Elvira made comments about the troublemaker’s mother and fatherless state.

  “Spinster with love in her heart for children? Ha. Maranda Pringle never met a child she liked,” said Pamela. “And I guess you could call her a spinster, but that’s by choice. Her legs have trouble closing. Ask Principal Cleveland. And Coach Newcomb. Actually, may as well ask some Peerless fathers, too.”

  “Whoa. I guess she didn’t have a house full of cats either.”

  Pamela turned in her chair. “Chantelle, can you grab me a yearbook?” She waited for a young girl to flit to another part of the room, bring back the thick book, and return to the corner where the girl and her friends loitered in matching gray plaid uniforms.

  Flipping through the yearbook, Pamela stopped on the administration page and tapped on a picture. “That is Maranda Pringle.”

  The color photo showed a platinum blonde thirty-something with green eyes, an impish smile, and gleaming white teeth.

  “Not the Miss Pringle I had imagined,” I said.

  “That woman made Kadence miserable. Those girls, too.” Pamela jerked her head to the huddle of seventeen-year-olds in the corner. “They’re office helpers. Part of a work experience class run by Mrs. Overmeyer. It’s hard for her to find students to work in the office.”

  “What did Miss Pringle do to the girls?”

  “She’s plain ol’ mean. Snarky. Gives them crap jobs. Poor Kadence. One of her teachers sent her to Principal Cleveland’s office. Said Kade talked too much in class and didn’t pay attention or some nonsense. Miss Pringle had her in tears by the time Kadence had to go in to speak to Cleveland.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s not what Maranda Pringle said, it’s how she said it. The words didn’t matter. Something about being pretty and popular and boys. Things that should be a compliment, but when Maranda Pringle says them, they sound like a knife to the heart. Kadence wanted me to take her out of Peerless and put her in public school. Can you imagine?”

  Considering I had graduated from public school, I could not imagine. But I could understand how pretty words could get twisted to sound ugly.

  “Poor Kadence,” I said. “Why would the school keep Miss Pringle if she was so horrible to the students?”

  “Well, she had Principal Cleveland eating out of her hand for one thing. And two, she’s really good at her job. God, that cyberbullying thing last year really could have blown up on them if it wasn’t for Maranda Pringle’s quick thinking.”

  Pamela thumbed through the yearbook to the sophomore section and her finger landed on another photo, this time a young girl. “This poor thing committed suicide last year. We had a rough year, but Maranda Pringle saved the school.”

  “I had no idea,” I said. “I vaguely remember hearing about a teen suicide, but I figured she was a victim of depression or something.”

  “Thanks to Miss Pringle, the news didn’t get much coverage and her parents were too grief-stricken to care. I would have yelled my head off if that had happened to Kadence, but Ellis Madsen’s parents moved away instead.”

  “Poor things.”

  Pamela sniffed. “Raise your kids to be strong. When Miss Pringle made Kadence cry, I told Kade she should not give a flying flip what some secretary thinks. These students have to build a strong backbone for today’s world. Teens will always play head games, but now they take that crap online.”

  “Dang,” I said. “That reminds me of something. I have my own Miss Pringle to deal with and I never thought about what could be happening online. My recent financial situation has limited my Internet options. I haven’t checked my website or media pages in a long time.”

  “Don’t you have an app on your phone?” Pamela pulled out her bejeweled phone and slid her finger across the screen. It brightened, and she tapped on a gleaming box. “I’ll friend you, and we’ll see what’s on your wall.”

  I spelled as Pamela thumbed my name into the question mark box, then peered over her shoulder to view my page. “I have some messages from college friends. That’s nice.”

  “You’ve also been tagged in a bunch of photos with this guy and girl. Aren’t they a cute couple?” Pamela held the phone closer to her face, squinting. “Hang on, I want to make the pictures bigger. Wow, he’s a looker.”

  My stomach landed somewhere near my toes. “Dark curly hair, gray eyes, and dimples? Body of a Greek God? Square jaw and chiseled cheekbones?”

  “Oh yeah, although I can’t see the dimples.” Pamela enlarged the screen.

  “Who tagged me?”

  “A Shawna Branson. But you’re not in any of these pictures. Looks like the girl is Tara Mayfield, but the guy doesn’t have an account. Wait, Shawna’s written his name in the comments.”

  “Luke Harper.”

  “Yes. And the comment says, ‘Congratulations, Tara. You and Luke Harper are the perfect couple. Don’t worry about that crazy ex-girlfriend, Cherry Tucker.’”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek instead of saying what wasn’t appropriate for a school.

  “There are more pictures. Do you want to see them?” Pamela held out her phone.

  “Not really. I’ll see you later, Miss Pamela. I’ve got to scoot.”

  “Come talk to me next time you’re at Peerless. Wait.” She held up her hand to stop me, then glanced at her phone and back to me. “You’re this Cherry Tucker?”

  “Yep, the crazy ex-girlfriend. Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

  I pushed out of my chair, waved to the girls hiding from the deceased Miss Pringle, and walked out of the office. Knowing how schools felt about running in halls, I kept my boots moving at a fast pace through the foyer until they reached the front door. Banging through, I hit top speed in the parking lot, charging toward my yellow Datsun pickup waiting in the visitor’s spot.

  I needed to speak to Luke Harper. About his step-cousin, Shawna Branson. And his crazy ex-girlfriend. Who was not one Cherry Tucker.

  Two

  Knowing I could find Deputy Luke Harper at the Forks County Sheriff’s Office meant I could also get my fingerprint and background whatnot completed. As I enjoyed killing multiple fowl with single stones, I pointed my pickup toward Line Creek. The county highways I traveled from Peerless Day Academy to the Sheriff’s Department were much like the path I had been on with Luke. Lots of meandering roads that dead ended, forcing you to stop and wait for someone to pass before you could turn. Sharp, blind curves in the hillier terrain that can be unnerving. A lot of travel without getting very far.

  I had a million excuses as to why I should pass by Luke Harper Boulevard. He could act the scoundrel. Sometimes unsympathetic. Easy to irritate. In other words, a real man. But all that went away when his gray eyes—actually ultramarine mixed with Prussian blue, a teeny Mars Black, and a daub of titanium white—fell upon mine.

  For now, I proposed friendship while we waited out several roadblocks. Such as one Tara Mayfield, who didn’t want to add the prefix ex to girlfriend. Luke also needed to prove to my family that not all Bransons were untrustworthy swindlers and snobs. Besides, Luke’s stepfamily didn’t feel much better about me.

  Long ago, someone decided the Ballards and Bransons twain should never meet. Which apparently included my Tucker and his Harper.

  Nevertheless, Luke had fixed on pursuing me. Most recently, he sought me out at Red’s County Line Tap’s annual Halloween party. Surrounded by Halo’s hardest partiers dressed as pimps and ho’s, I had donned m
ore creative costume attire. Painted a Renaissance landscape backdrop in ochres and siennas, cut a big hole in the canvas, inserted my head, and went as the Mona Lisa. Luke wore a dusty pair of Wranglers, boots, and a western shirt. The ever-present Tara dressed in her high school cheer duds, but everyone forgave her because she is so damned cute.

  In the crowded bar, Luke’s cowboy had found my Mona Lisa smile and pulled me into the gents’ bathroom before our friends and family could notice.

  “I screwed up.” Beneath the shadow of his white cowboy hat, his eyes had appeared charcoal. “And I mean to make it up to you.”

  “You step out with me and we’re going to get smacked from flying horse hockey on all sides,” I said.

  “Those are their issues. Not ours,” he said. “Just let me know I have a chance. Just one kiss. A kiss to hold us until some of this blows over.”

  And that’s when Nik had kicked in the bathroom door. Unfortunately, my sister’s newly wedded husband had been fed only the ugly version of my romance with Luke.

  His kick alerted my brother, Cody. Who, misinterpreting our bathroom cluster, threatened to kill Luke.

  Which led to my sister, Casey, pitching a fit for all to hear.

  And then Red booted us all from the party.

  Luke paid for the broken door.

  Which I appreciated since Nik didn’t have a job.

  Did I mention which side of the tracks my family lived on in comparison to Luke’s?

  By the time my rusty, yellow Datsun pickup chugged into the parking lot of Forks County Sheriff’s Department, I had mellowed from Shawna’s slight and determined to return to Peerless Day Academy with my background check before their staff meeting. I also thought this fingerprinting trip might provide me with an opportunity to ask Uncle Will a few questions that had been bugging me as of late. I hopped from the truck, sped up the sidewalk, and into the cool blast of air currently conditioning the lobby of the sheriff’s offices.

  Behind a shatterproof, bulletproof, Plexiglass window, sat Tamara Riggs. The black, white, and red beads of Tamara’s cornrow braided ponytail clicked as she lifted her chin to address me with don’t-give-me-no-lip eyes. Tamara backed the Georgia Bulldogs with a ferocity that insisted on Dawg colors on every part of her person, including her hair and nails.

  “Wha’cha need, Cherry?” asked Tamara. “I hope you’re not hunting for Deputy Harper. I’m tired of shooing away his badge bunnies.”

  “Don’t you lump me in with those women. I’m here on official business. Need to get fingerprinted for a background check. And if the sheriff is free, I’ll take a word with him as well.”

  Tamara picked up the phone without dropping her stare. “We’ll see who’s around to do your fingerprints. The sheriff is in, but I don’t know if he’s available.”

  “Thank you, Miss Tamara.”

  She spoke into the phone, set the receiver down, and crooked a finger. “Come over here, hon’. I’ve got some words for you.”

  I strolled to the window and stopped spitting distance away. Tamara scared me a teeny bit. The rest of the force not so much, but Tamara’s nature matched her favorite mascot. Her bulldog intensity made the rest of the deputies seem like pug puppies.

  “Ma’am?”

  “You know that sweet Tara Mayfield?” She waited for my acknowledgement and set her glare to high beam. “Not only did that little girl make Deputy Harper homemade lunches, she packed a meal for the whole station. Brought us pies. And did you know she visits the women’s wing over at the jail? Bringing the Word of our Lord to those ingrates. That child is full of goodness and light.”

  “She’s something special, all right,” I muttered. I’d been hearing about the wondrous Tara Mayfield for weeks now, such as life was in small towns where folks loved minding other folks’ business. Not many knew about my previous dealings (emphasis on the plurality of that relationship) with Luke Harper, but instinct guided them to point out Tara’s catch.

  “I’ve seen you and Harper eyeing each other.” Tamara arched a brow. “Don’t give me that look, like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I’ve watched y’all act like a pair of horny squirrels, just flying around each other in circles. Now I know he says he doesn’t want to see Tara Mayfield no more, but I’m hoping that will change. Don’t go messing with him.”

  I sucked in the frosty air and blew out my heat. “Miss Tamara, it’s not me. I’m not the horny squirrel. Luke and I are friends, that’s all.”

  “You best be telling the truth, because the boys and women in back, they like that Tara Mayfield. And her cooking. And with your history of messing around in police business that ain’t your business, you need the backing of these boys in brown.”

  “I get it,” I said. “And I don’t mean to mess with police business. I just get pulled into it through association.”

  “I know the sheriff may as well be your daddy, but I’m just trying to help you. I like you, Cherry, but I don’t trust you. You’re a wild one and in my line of work, I don’t trust wild children.”

  “Thank you, Miss Tamara. As I’m twenty-six, I think you can stop calling me a wild child. I have a business—”

  “That’s not making you any money.”

  “And a house—”

  “That belongs to your granddaddy. You are a wild child, Cherry Tucker, and at twenty-six, it’s time to settle yourself down and behave. Go find yourself a real job and another man and leave Deputy Harper and the Sheriff’s Office alone.”

  “Lord have mercy, Miss Tamara.” I stomped toward the door to wait out her buzz. “Is this because I don’t bring you food? Next time I need fingerprinting done, I’ll bring you a pie.”

  The heavy door swung open, framing the mighty figure of Sheriff Will Thompson. Thirty years ago, his height and build got him a position as defensive tackle for the Bulldogs. Today, the linebacker appetite remained, but his bulk had gravitated toward the south end of his torso. However, the man could still hustle. I’d seen him chase down and tackle a kid who had graffitied the side of a barn.

  Of course, that’d been a while. The kid was me at age ten.

  “Hey, Uncle Will.” I hopped on my toes to give him a quick hug before I squeezed past his bulk and into the hallway. “Can you print me?”

  “Sure thing, sugar.” His chocolate brown eyes twinkled. “I’m glad to hear you’re getting a job at Peerless Day. Are you going to be teaching art?”

  “No, sir.” I felt a bit flummoxed by everyone’s inclination for me to find a steady paycheck. “I don’t have teaching training. The drama teacher needs help with some artwork for the stage. They’re doing Romeo and Juliet.”

  “When I was a boy, the students had to paint the scenery. Things sure have changed.” He shook his head, pointed toward a door at the end of the long hall, and plodded behind my quick steps. “Well, we’ll get you printed and into the system.”

  “Never convicted.” I grinned. “My record’s clean as an old maid’s wedding dress.”

  “I should know.” He sighed and unlocked the door.

  We entered a small room fitted with shelves filled with boxes of supplies and a lone metal table. I stood before the table while Will pressed my fingers in ink and rolled them onto a card sectioned for each finger and thumb.

  When finished, he squirted goop into my hand and handed me a paper towel.

  “Thanks, Uncle Will.”

  “Now mail that card to the Georgia Bureau of Investigation address and they’ll do your background clearance. Piece of cake.” He leaned against the metal table, while I worked the ink off my fingers. “When are you starting?”

  “Today, hopefully. If I can catch the drama teacher.”

  “GBI won’t have your background check done today, girl. Does that school normally let folks work without the background check completed?” />
  “Dunno.” I focused on wiping my fingers. “And let’s assume they’re making an exception since it’s just an after school deal for a short time. Maybe you could write me a note, stating I’m an upstanding citizen. Just in case.”

  “I don’t like this, Cherrilyn. We should have done a scan of your prints instead of a roll if they wanted them this fast.” Will tossed my paper towel in the trash. “Come down to my office for a moment.”

  I dragged my feet behind him. Now I was going to get the school in trouble over a little fudging of the rules. If Uncle Will complained, they wouldn’t hire me on.

  We entered Will’s wood paneled office and I flopped into a chair before his desk. “You know, Uncle Will, this whole working without a background check is probably just a mix-up. The principal’s secretary passed away, and I just came at a bad time.”

  Will sat back in his chair, steepled his hands on his belly, and eyed me. The chair gasped as his weight rocked back. “Passed away? Who was that?”

  “Maranda Pringle. Did you hear about it?”

  “Oh, right. Didn’t come through our department.” He paused. “They took her to Line Creek Hospital for an autopsy. Had breakfast with Harry McMillan this morning. He got the call over our ham and eggs.”

  Harry McMillan had been elected county coroner in a special election last Tuesday. Uncle Will had kept mum on his feelings about Harry. Will was a good politician and Harry was an outsider to Forks County having just moved to Halo thirty years ago.

  “Why an autopsy?” I asked.

  “Didn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

  “That’s odd. She wasn’t old or anything. I tell you what, one of the parents sure didn’t like her bedside manner with the students.”

  Will rubbed his chin. “How so?”

  “Said Miss Pringle was mean to the kids. And questioned her morals. But then again, Mrs. Hargraves also said Miss Pringle was incredibly efficient and saved the school from a PR disaster.”