DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (21 page)

Tw
enty-Five

Af
ter a tense Sunday dinner at the farm featuring Cody’s noticeably empty chair, I called
Luke to update him on my progress. Dan Madsen still wouldn’t answer my calls, but
I fixed on trapping him at Maranda’s funeral. Cleveland remained elusive. Dr. Vail
had left town for the weekend. However, I had arranged to meet Coach Newcomb and Maranda’s
friend, Olivia, at Little Verona’s that night.

“That’s considered an accomplishment,” Luke whispered. We had snuck from our respective
dinner tables to our respective bathrooms to talk. “You’ve managed to track down two
witnesses.”

“If that’s progress, I never want to be a cop,” I murmured.

“Glad to hear it. You have no patience for this business. And you’re too reckless.”
He stifled a laugh at my protest. “Speaking of reckless, I know sexting is out of
the question. But considering our locations, how about some good ol’ fashioned phone
sex
—
”

I smacked the flusher and held the phone over the toilet. “You’re breaking up,” I
called. “Gotta go.”

L
ittle Verona’s, located in another Line Creek strip mall, was one of the few restaurants
in Forks County that didn’t feature barbecue or fried chicken on their menu.

With tasty Italian food and an extensive wine list, Little Verona’s served appetites
for the Atlanta-commuting carpetbaggers who missed their northern cuisine. And for
us
locals who sometimes wished for Alfredo sauce on our
basic
mac and cheese.

In the dim bar, I set aside memories of Little Verona dates-with-Todd-gone-by and
searched for Coach Andy Newcomb. Tall wooden booths separated the bar from the rest
of the restaurant. Crimson and gold wallpaper, potted palms, and an old-fashioned
brass bar gave the room a warm, cozy feeling. I spotted a sun weathered, lean guy
in a windbreaker and coach’s pants sitting at the bar. A beer and a bowl of soup sat
before him, but he focused on the football game appearing on a small flatscreen hung
above the old-timey, brass cash register.

A wooden bar stool separated Coach Newcomb from Deputy Luke Harper. I chewed my lip,
not realizing I had also invited Luke to Little Verona’s. He wore boots, jeans, and
a flannel shirt and also had a beer and bowl of soup. Before the empty stool sat a
third bowl of soup. And a breadbasket rested between our soup bowls.

I scrambled to the bar quicker than Goldilocks upon spying that third bowl of porridge.

Luke hopped from his stool at my approach. He grinned at the denim miniskirt I had
studded with pumpkin buttons and paired with a fuzzy orange sweater decorated for
autumn. I found velcro an easy way to attach the die-cut felt leaves to fuzz.

“Very festive,” he murmured, skimming a long look over my bare legs shod in worn,
brown boots. While helping me shimmy off my denim jacket, two ochre leaves caught
and fluttered to the floor.

“Thank you
.
” I gave Luke a quick smile and then inhaled a deep breath over the bowl of minestrone.
The savory blend of tomato, oregano, and basil shocked my stomach into roaring its
thanks. Causing the hostess to hurry around the corner and search the bar for the
stray wood chipper.

“I appreciate the dinner,” I murmured, tipping my head toward his. “But this isn’t
a date. I’m here to get the skinny on Maranda Pringle.”

His hand slid down my back, tapping down a stray leaf before flying off. “I’m not
interfering. Just here to enjoy the scenery. Although, I’m hoping to get a bowl of
something else later.”

I actually blushed. Clearing my throat, I hopped onto the bar stool and introduced
myself to Coach Newcomb. “Hope your golf tournament went well.”

“We’ve got a couple talented girls.” He swallowed the remnants of his beer. “I don’t
really understand why you wanted to meet me.”

“I heard you knew Maranda Pringle pretty well. I’m really sorry about her death. Amber
Tipton’s, too.”

“Yep, a real shame.”

“Can you tell me about Maranda?”

“Nope.” Newcomb stared into his empty soup bowl. “You heard wrong. I met Maranda here
a few times after work, but as athletic director, I’m pretty busy in the evenings.
We had a couple of drinks together. That’s about it.”

“She and some of the other faculty members were sent insinuating text messages. Have
you gotten any?”

He shrugged. “I get so many messages from parents, I don’t really pay attention. They’re
always ready to fire me for something.”

“Do you know anything about Maranda’s messages?”

He shook his head, circled a hunk of breadstick in the soup residue, and shoved it
into his mouth.

I felt my blood pressure tick upwards with each of his blasé non-answers. Newcomb
dated a woman who was now dead. How could he be so insensitive?

“How did you feel when Cleveland accused you of stepping out with Maranda on him?”
It was a long shot but worth it to see the closed-mouth coach almost choke on his
breadstick. “Was she going to cost you your job? Or did she blow you off just like
she did Cleveland? I bet that pissed you off.”

I felt Luke’s hand graze my arm. I shook it off.

Coach Newcomb swung his gaze off his soup bowl to face me. “What do you know about
it?”

“I know your school has suffered an odd amount of death in the past year. And this
woman you supposedly didn’t know? Your boss harassed her about seeing you.”

He pointed a finger in my face. “You don’t know anything. I’m under a lot of pressure.
Our great leader Cleveland kisses the parents’ asses while chewing out mine. He was
looney for Maranda, but he’s also looney for trophies and anything else he could use
to impress the parents.”

I swiped the finger away. “You don’t bring home trophies? The theater program does.”

“The Lacrosse team is young. We’ve got some good golfers and tennis players, but Cleveland
and the parents want big team sports. Those programs take a long time to build.”

“You can’t explain that to the parents and Cleveland?”

“They don’t want to hear it.” He pulled out his wallet, threw a twenty on the bar,
and slid off his stool. “Look, I met Maranda here a couple times. She was a sexy,
gorgeous woman and smart. No idea why she wanted to work at Peerless. But we weren’t
dating.”

He began walking away, then stopped. “Killing herself? A real waste.”

I watched him leave, then turned to Luke.

He leaned against the bar, eyes on the retreating coach. “I don’t like that guy.”

“You don’t like most people,” I said. “But I didn’t like him either. Not a very winning
attitude.”

“Nope.”

“I got angry.”

“It worked. You provoked him into telling you something about Cleveland
.
” Luke clasped my shoulder. “Doing good, Watson. Let’s see what this Olivia says.
Wonder what she thinks about Coach Newcomb.”

“I hope she’s friendlier.” I flagged the bartender to snag Olivia for me, bent over
my bowl, and shoveled in the cooling soup. “Delicious.”

Luke leaned an elbow on the bar. “You’re very determined to catch this phantom.”

“I am
.
” I pushed away my bowl and faced him. “At first, I felt sorry for Tinsley. The idea
of a faceless bully just ticked me off. Now I think there’s some deeper level of malice
going on at Peerless. Two deaths in a week? I don’t really understand the Peerless
kids and parents, but I’ll be damned if I let this sonofabitch get away with ruining
their school.”

“You shouldn’t let it bother you so much
.
” Luke toyed with his spoon. “You get so wrapped up in helping other people that you
forget to worry about yourself.”

I laid my hand over his. “Is that why you would get so steamed with me?”

Luke dropped the spoon and slipped his hand in mine. He remained quiet for a beat
while he studied our hands, stroking his thumb over my wrist. Looking up, he unnerved
me with the intensity of his cool gray gaze. “Every time you charge into a dangerous
situation, I worry I’m going to lose you. And dammit, you do it too often.”

“I can’t help it, Luke. Some things are worth fighting for.”

“I just wish you’d rely on me to do more of your fighting.”

“I don’t like to rely on people.”

“You say that, but you do call on your crew. How many times has Todd McIntosh accompanied
you on these escapades? Hell, you’ve even asked Max Avtaikin for help. And they all
encourage you. That’s what I don’t get. If they love you, they should want to keep
you safe.”

Sirens rang in my head at the “L” word. I slipped my hands from his and gripped my
stomach. The minestrone soup had somehow developed claws and battled with my innards
for ownership.

“They care about me.” My voice sounded hoarse. “They just know me well enough to let
me go my own way.”

“I know you better.” Luke’s eyes darkened from pewter to charcoal. “Enough to know
that you won’t stop, even if it means putting yourself on the line. That’s why you
scare the shit out of me.”

“I’ve got to use the facilities.” I slipped from my stool, clutching my stomach, and
hurried out of the bar. What if he used the L word again and I upchucked all over
his snug-fitting jeans? I didn’t think I could bear that humiliation. If someone pukes
after you tell them the L word, it’s most likely a deal breaker.

What in the hell was wrong with me? Why would the L word make me want to vomit? I
needed another session with Red.

As I passed through the dining room, I heard a recognizable giggle followed by an
all-too familiar snort. I dropped my hand from my belly clutch and spun toward the
wooden booths lining the far wall. Tara spotted me and began bouncing in her seat
and waving. Her dinner companion, the all-too familiar snorter, did not bounce nor
wave.

At the sight of me, Shawna Branson straightened from her slouch, causing the snakeskin
print of her dress to ripple, then stretch across her curves, like a python sensing
her next meal. She tossed her long, red locks over one shoulder and commenced to give
me the stink eye. Her combination of snarl and scowl caused my seized innards to shift
toward a different kind of bellyache. But an ache in which my stomach had become accustomed.
It accompanied a gritting of the teeth and a curling of the fist.

Shawna was my shot of medicinal whiskey. God bless her.

I stalked to their booth. “Haven’t seen you in a while, Shawna. Although I know you’ve
been active on social media lately.”

Her blue-green eyes glittered. “I’ve been feeling a bit puny since the Halloween party,
so I’ve stayed home. Just a little cold. I guess you saw the adorable photos I posted
of Tara and Luke.”

Tara’s face fell at the mention.

I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep from slugging Shawna. “Tara, how did y’all
end up at Little Verona’s tonight?” Maybe she had hidden some sort of GPS tracking
device on Luke’s truck.

“Sunday night is minestrone night,” said Tara. “Unlimited soup and breadsticks. Isn’t
that why you’re here?”

Part of me wanted to announce to Shawna that I was with her step-cousin in the bar,
but the nicer part of me didn’t want to make Tara feel bad. The nice part won out.
“Sure, minestrone.”

Tara was making me soft.

“Where are you sitting?” asked Tara. “Why don’t you join us? Did you already eat?”

I hesitated long enough to watch Shawna’s lip curl. “Thanks, but I already ate in
the bar and was just heading to the ladies. Nice of you to ask, though. If only I
had known y’all were here, I would have sat with you.”

“I didn’t realize you knew how to sit on anything but a bar stool, Cherry,” said Shawna.

“Better a bar stool than a lap, I guess,” I said.

“Too bad your momma didn’t learn that lesson.” Shawna arched a well plucked brow.

I took a deep breath and counted to ten.

“Didn’t your sister marry some immigrant? How’s that working out? Is she still supporting
him by waiting tables, bless her heart?” Shawna scooted forward to fake a whisper
to Tara. “He needed a green card.”

Tara looked from Shawna to me. “Did y’all have a wedding this summer? I must have
missed hearing about that. Where’d she get married?”

“They eloped,” I muttered. “Panama City beach.”

“And you and Todd McIntosh married in Vegas. Y’all have something against church weddings?”
Shawna hooted. “And isn’t your Grandpa shacking up with some goat farmer?”

“Grandpa and Pearl are just good friends.”

If only my eyes were laser beams. Shawna’s head would have exploded by now.

“You and Todd were married?” Tara’s eyes had doubled in size. She looked like an anime
character.

“That’s old news,” said Shawna. “Todd McIntosh dumped her the next day. One of those
‘whatever happens in Vegas’ deals.”

“I was not dumped. We annulled the marriage before the honeymoon began. Shawna wouldn’t
know the truth if it bit her in the ass
.
” I slapped my mouth, hating to upset Tara more than she already was. “I mean, her
butt. Hiney. Derriere.”

Judging by Shawna’s triumphant smile, the only ass was the one just speaking.

“Anyway,” I continued, “gotta go. I need to speak to a server.”

“About time you got a real job
.
” Shawna waved the empty bread basket. “You want to give us a refill while you fill
out the application? I promise to tip real well.”

“I’d like to give you a couple tips,” I said. “The first has to do with snakeskin
prints. When you swallow your prey whole, a dress that tight will show it.”

My touch for cheap shots seemed to have gone south. This issue with my mother and
Shawna’s father made me self-conscious. Or maybe it was Tara’s influence. I did not
enjoy self-awareness. The uninhibited life was much more fun.

Before Shawna could remark on my pumpkin attire
on the way back from the bathroom, I scooted back to the bar. Our bowls had been cleared,
and Luke chatted with a waitress with a love for liquid eyeliner and hair wax. Her
dark hair stuck out in all directions in rigid waves and swoops. Piercings studded
her entire ear, eyebrow, and nose, and tattoos peeked from the edges of her shirt
sleeves and collar. I hurried to introduce myself to Olivia.