DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (2 page)

“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
.
”
S
he 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.

T
wo

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 Ballard
s
and Branson
s
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 more 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,
P
lexiglass 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
.
”
H
e 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
.
”
H
e 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.”

“What PR disaster?”

“Some incident that involved cyberbullying leading to a teenage suicide.”

Will leaned forward, dropping his arms to the desk. “I remember that. There was evidence
of bullying in all sorts of ways. Texts, emails, social networking sites. Line Creek
police confiscated computer chips. The school shut down Internet service and didn’t
allow phones for the rest of the year.”

“Writing on bathroom walls is a lost art.” I shook my head, remembering days gone
by. “Do they even fight in the parking lots anymore? Or pass notes? What’s become
of this generation?”

“Feeling your age?”

“Twenty-six is young
.
” I kicked the chair leg with the back of my boot heel. “I’ve got plenty of time to
play the field before I worry about settling down.”

“Sure, hon’.” Will began shuffling through the stack of files on his desk. “Anything
else I can do for you?”

For the past month, I had wanted to ask Uncle Will about my mother. She’d been gone
about twenty years, and as far as I was concerned, we were better off without her.
But recently, I had discovered my brother had stolen some snapshots from Shawna Branson,
showing my mother with Shawna’s father. I didn’t know what to make of them. However,
Uncle Will, like my Grandpa Ed, found the subject of my mother a mute point.

As in we didn’t talk about her. At all. I suspected the
se
photos were Shawna’s sticking point in her campaign of ugliness toward me.

This past year, Shawna had acted the turkey buzzard to the carcass of my dying art
career. Sh
e
had hated me since the fifth grade county art competition when I caught her trying
to pass off a traced drawing of Tupac as an original. When my tribute to the Atlanta
Olympics won first place, Shawna set the sculptured torch on fire, claiming patriotic
inspiration.

“What do you know about Billy Branson?” My mouth surprised my brain with a blab sneak
attack. I sought for spin control. “You know, Shawna Branson’s father? I’m having
a hard time with Shawna lately and her mother was no help. I thought maybe Shawna’s
daddy...”