DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (13 page)

“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
investigations?” 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, “He
llo?
”

“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.”

Luk
e 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.”

“What happens if you click on the person posting?” I snagged the mouse and clicked.
The screen changed, showing the PeerNotes header again. Below, lay an empty information
box. Instead of a name, someone had listed the alphabet.

Luke clicked back to the photos. “Does your auditorium have a balcony? They would
have needed an aerial view to take these.”

Tinsley nodded. “The theater has a balcony.”

“Let’s go take a look
.
” Luke turned to me.

“Wait,” I said. “Mr. Tinsley, did you get a text as well?”

His fingers played along the edge of his desk. “Just the PeerNotes notification. I
told you the Phantom suggested I was watched.”

“You have to tell me what the texts said.”

“She’s right
.
” Luke folded his arms and cas
t
Tinsley his cop stare. “If the Line Creek police do get involved in this texting
issue, they can confiscate your phone and pull up the deleted messages anyway.”

I secretly smiled and slipped the “she’s right” into a pocket to save for a metaphorical
rainy day.

Tinsley gusted a long sigh. “The texts accuse me of using theater funds for personal
expenses.”

“Is that true?” I asked.

“Of course it’s untrue
.
” Tinsley gripped his desk. “The IRS may have nosed around my receipts a few times,
but they never found anything in their audits.”

I glanced at Luke. His flinty eyes could have drilled holes into Tinsley’s forehead.

“Let me see the texts anyway
.
” I put an extra lump of sugar in my smile. “It’s not the messages that interest me
as
much as
how they’re written. There might be some clues.”

“I will give in, Miss Tucker. ‘A stage where every man must play a part, And mine
a sad one,
’
” Tinsley quoted and dug the phone from his pants pocket. Tapping on the screen, he
entered a code, then pressed to retrieve his text messages.

Again with the weird quotes. I took the phone from his hand. “Thank you.”

Tinsley bowed.

“I meant for the phone.”

I held the small screen near my face, and Luke edged in next to me, circling his arm
about my waist to get a better look. I ignored the fingers that hooked onto my belt
loop and allowed him to peer over my shoulder. The woodsy scent of his cologne enveloped
me as Luke reached around my shoulder to widen the message on the screen. I ordered
my nose to shut off from the cologne sniffing and my brain to focus on Tinsley.

“‘While the theater feeds your appetite, you feed theirs,’” I read. “‘If Peerless
lost its idol, wouldn’t they worship the next fool who feeds them pizza and compliments?
You’re buying love. How long can you go on acting without real accolades? Soon everyone
will see you as the fraud you really are.’”

“It’s vaguely threatening,” said Luke. “Does the ‘they’ referred to mean the students?”

“I believe so
.
” Tinsley collapsed into his chair. “Although the idol could refer to the Tiny Tony.”

I ran my finger over the screen, hunting for more messages and found none. “This seems
to be more about you bribing the students than using theater funds on yourself.”

“It’s all interpretation, I suppose.” Tinsley tapped his fingers on the desk. “Now
that you’ve viewed that message, any clues?”

“I need to think about it,” I said. “We’ll check out the theater while I think.”

Tinsley tossed his keys on the desk. “I’ll wait here. I’m in no mood to approach the
stage.”

Luke released my hip to grab the keys. “Let’s go.”

I rubbed my hip of the scorch marks left by his hand and followed Luke out the door.
Glancing back, I noted Tinsley had swiveled the computer screen toward his side of
the desk. He began pounding on the keys.

I needed to know more about the man who had hired me to chase down a phantom. A phantom
that put him and his theater in the spotlight.