DEATH IN PERSPECTIVE (25 page)

Tw
enty-Nine

A
normal person found at a crime scene and thought to be a potential witness/suspect
would immediately report to the police station. Lucky for Tinsley, I’m not a normal
person. And lucky for me, my neighbor, Mr. Johnson, was headed to Line Creek. I made
it to Peerless in time for third period.

After scooting through the parking lot, I found the front doors locked and pressed
on the buzzer that alerted the office to guests. A bubble camera attached to the buzzer
aligned with my forehead and a voice sounding like Pamela Hargraves gave a tentative,
“Hello?”

“Miss Pamela? It’s Cherry.” I jumped so she could see me in the camera. “What gives?
I can’t get in.”

“Hey Cherry, we’re on lockdown. Ms. Cooke thought it prudent what with Dr. Vail’s
death, but we’re trying not to make a big deal about it. I just have to buzz you in.”

“I’m headed to the theater and I’m late. Any possibility you could send a student
to meet me in the lobby with my pass?” I crossed my fingers, hoping I could avoid
the office, Tara, and Ms. Cooke’s eagle eye.

“I guess that’d be all right
.
” Pamela paused. “I’ll sign you in.”

“Thank you.” I hopped, hoping she could see my smile of thanks.

A buzzer sang and I slipped through the front door, reminding me of the Sheriff’s
Office. Tamara would not have let me through so easily, but Pamela was no Tamara.

Thank goodness.

A security guard leaned against a wall and nodded as I entered. I smiled back and
strode toward the approaching office girl. Her long, straight hair swung as she skipped
toward me. I grabbed the lanyard she handed me, hung it around my neck, and shot toward
the arts wing.

At the fine arts double doors, I paused, wondering if Preston King attended school
that day.

I hauled the door open and poked my head into the vestibule. Between the drawing and
sculpture studio doors, a student leaned against the wall working magic on her smart
phone. She jerked her head up at my entrance.

“I’m heading to the bathroom,” she said, pointing in some vague direction.

“Of course you are, hon’,” I said. “Must have gotten an important message to get you
off track.”

She had pale skin that easily turned an unfortunate mottled shade of Royal Purple
Lake. “Well, there’s the announcement about the lockdown on PeerNotes.”

“I’m sure there’s a lot of comments about that. What did Preston say?”

Royal Purple Lake flared into Madder Red Lake. “Preston says Peerless killed Dr. Vail.
He’s angry.”

“And working on revenge?”

Madder Red Lake heated to Burgundy Wine Red. “Of course he is. Dr. Vail was the only
teacher who care
d
about him. Preston’s a brilliant artist and no one outside fine arts can see that.”

“If he’s a brilliant artist, someone will notice,” I said, wondering if his brilliance
ran toward evil. “What is Preston planning to do?”

“For college?”

“No
.
” I tempered my nervous shout. “About Dr. Vail. What’s his revenge strategy? Is he
at school today? How angry is he?”

“He’s suspended for the shroom thing. I don’t know what he’s going to do.” The girl
had gone vermillion and began edging toward the drawing studio door. “I need to get
back to class.”

I left her and ran toward the theater, agonizing between searching for the cape and
checking on Tinsley. I banged through the double doors and into the drama lobby where
Laurence reclined on a bean bag, reading. He lifted his head as I rushed past. I jiggled
the handle to Tinsley’s office door. Locked.

Of all the times to begin locking doors.

“Tinsley’s on the stage,” said Laurence, his eyes back on his book. “Are we painting
now?”

“Laurence, does Mr. Tinsley have his cape today?”

“I don’t know.”

“I need to get in his office, could you get his keys for me?”

“Will this count toward my participation grade?”

“Good grief. Yes, I’ll mark it toward your participation.”

“Let me finish this page
.
” Laurence held up a finger and continued to read.

I kicked the beanbag.

Sighing, he dogeared the page and rose.

“I’m aging here,” I said, dancing before the locked door. “And you don’t have to mention
to Tinsley that I need to get in. Just say you need something from his office.”

Laurence halted his turtle-like pace. “What would I ever need from Mr. Tinsley’s office?”

“You need to read a play?” I guessed. “Something old and boring?”

“Aristophanes
.
” Laurence nodded. “Got it. And why am I doing this for you?”

I waved him on. “So I won’t tell Tara you’re skipping class again. What are you missing?
Phys Ed?”

He glared at me, then donned his inside-out coat and schlepped to the stage door.
I paced the room. Approximating glacier melt speed, Laurence returned with the keys.
He watched as I jimmied a master into the lock, shoved the keys in my pocket, and
pushed open the door. Cutting the lights on, I darted to the coat stand in the corner.
A trilby hat, windbreaker, and hooked cane hung from the brass arms.

“No cape
.
” I rushed past Laurence to the desk. A sports coat draped the back of the desk chair.
I poked around the drawers, under the desk, the coffee credenza, and the file cabinet.
“No cape.”

Now what?

“He’s wearing it,” said Laurence.

I turned toward the doorway where Laurence stood with his hands shoved in his pockets.
“Why didn’t you say so?”

I shot past Laurence, yelling over my shoulder to lock the door,
and rushed to the stage.
Either Tinsley was an absolute idiot for wearing the cape, incredibly ballsy, or didn’t
know it was evidence from a crime scene. I banked on ignorance.

Yanking open the stage door, I stumbled up the steps and bumped through tables of
props, racks of costumes, and a collection of giant, paper maché bubbles. Pushing
through the curtain, I found Tinsley sitting cross-legged on his table with the cape
draped over his shoulders. He spoke to an invisible object sitting in the palm of
his upraised hand. Beneath him, the students focused on the invisible object. At my
bumble-halt, Tinsley’s hand fell and the students’ gaze followed the tumbling, invisible
object to the floor.

“Yes?” Tinsley droned.

“I need your cape,” I said. “And you might think about calling in a substitute today.”

“Impossible,” said Tinsley. “I can not be replaced.”

“It’s important.”

“I literally can not be replaced, the sub list is full
.
”
H
e climbed from the table and strode toward me, pulling off the cape. “And why do you
need my cape?”

I motioned for him to follow me offstage. Tinsley glanced over his shoulder at his
students, eagerly watching our production. “
Hamlet
. Act five. Scene one. Get a partner and do the soliloquy, one as
Hamlet
and the other as Yorrick. Take turns so you can both hold Yorrick’s head. I’ll be
right back.”

“Did you leave this cape at school this weekend?” I said, bunching it in my arms.

“Of course,” he said. “Why would I wear it home?”

“Because I think someone borrowed it to murder Dr. Vail.”

Tinsley paled and grabbed the front of his shirt.

I snagged his arm as his knees buckled. “You’re going to be okay. I’m on it.”

“Someone is portraying me as a murderer? I thought Dr. Vail committed suicide.”

“If that’s the news, then the police haven’t broadcast her suspicious death as homicide
yet. That’s why they’re going to need this cape.”

“And how do you know of the cape?” Tinsley’s face remained white, but he raised his
goatee and peered at me below his glasses.

“I saw someone
who
might have been wearing a cape. I can’t remember the details, but the cape is burned
in my mind.”

“The noose tightens
.
” Tinsley fingered his neck. “The Phantom looks to hang me for his own vile deeds.”

“Maybe,” I agreed. “But we still don’t know the reason. What happened with you and
the Tiny Tony?”

Tinsley’s swagger disappeared, making his goatee droop. “A cauldron of lies. Did the
rumor appear on PeerNotes?”

“No, I guessed.” I eyed him. “And what exactly did the cauldron of lies say? It’s
too late to cover up. Spit out the truth so I can figure out this mess.”

His body sagged, and Tinsley caught the edge of a prop table. “I was sure we
woul
d win the Tiny Tony for
Evita
. When Ellis died, I panicked. There migh
t’
ve been distribution of pecuniary funds used to sway the judges in a sympathetic light
toward our cause.”

“You tried to pay off the judges to win the Tiny Tony?”

Tinsley’s goatee quivered. “The accusation stands. I felt desperate. There’s a rivalry
between theater departments and I had boasted on my blog and couldn’t deliver.”

“Of all the...” I stopped, thinking. “Did you happen to use school funds for this?”

Tinsley gripped the folding table, making it rattle. “I bring in school funds with
my trophies. I add monetary value to this school. Besides, after Ellis’s death, Peerless
Day Academy needed the morale boost that a Tiny Tony could provide. We would win for
the sake of Ellis.”

“Through cheating and embezzlement,” I said. “Not a fair tribute to Ellis. Is this
what Vail suspected? Is this why she hounded you?”

“The Phantom’s curse has come to fruition,” cried Tinsley. The prop table shook. The
near side folding legs slipped and buckled, spilling props onto the floor. Tinsley’s
hands flew from the table, nabbed the cape from my arms, and fled toward the exit.

“Crap,” I said, leaving the table, and darted after Tinsley. “That idiot is going
to get himself killed.”

T
hirty

In the drama vestibule, I found Laurence hovering in the doorway to Tinsley’s office.
“Did Mr. Tinsley come through here?” I asked.

“I know I was supposed to lock the office, but I really was looking for the Aristophanes’
plays,” said Laurence, sheepishly. “I heard someone slam a door, though.”

“Which door? This school is nothing but doors and hallways.” I stared at the line
of drama doors and wished I had paid better attention when Casey and Grandma Jo had
tuned into
The Price Is Right
. “Listen, Mr. Tinsley’s not well. Can you go watch his class for him? I think they’re
studying
Hamlet
.”

Laurence beamed and scrambled toward the stage entrance. I had just committed a class
of freshmen to thirty minutes of tedious lecturing. By a sixteen-year-old.

Choosing the closest door, I poked my head into the long hall that ran behind the
stage. No Tinsley. However, he knew the maze of Peerless and I didn’t. He could have
slipped into a bathroom, the theater, or a props room to hide his shame and fear.
And I still had his keys.

I walked the hall, trying locked doors. After calling into the men’s room and scaring
a freshman boy, I found the auditorium door unlocked. On the stage, Laurence lectured
the ninth graders on some indiscernible thematic point. Behind them, our turquoise
blue backdrop screen had been lowered to puddle on the ground. I forced my attention
back on the dark theater where Tinsley might hide and watch his students on his beloved
stage.

My heart hurt from the shock of his admitted sin, but also in fear. Tinsley may want
the Tiny Tony at any cost, but he was no murderer. The Phantom’s moving finger had
pointed out the faculty’s indiscretions, but that malevolent accuser was the real
culprit. If the Phantom was the murderer.

Tinsley really needed a sub today.

I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the headache rear again. The theater appeared
empty. I let my eyes trail over the shadowed seats while walking up the aisle and
calling for Tinsley in the most reassuring voice I could muster. Reaching the top
of the slope, I peered through the window of the sound and light booth and then pushed
on the doors to the theater lobby. They swung open.

No one trolled the windowed hallway, so I tried the balcony doors. The far right door
still had gum shoved in the strike plate and jerked open at my pull. I glanced around
the dark balcony. No Tinsley. But I did shoo out two students caught neckin’.

Frustration rose within me as I jogged down the hallway toward the office, the last
place I wanted to show my face. I glanced in the windows as I passed, catching glimpses
of students vying for academic brilliance. In Scott Fisher’s class, the students wore
lab coats and fiddled with test tubes and beakers. In the drawing studio, Dr. Vail’s
students stood in a corner of the room, holding hands and hugging in consolation at
their loss.

My heart twinged, and I amped my jog to a run. I tried the rear door to the office,
near the copier room. Edging past Cooke’s closed door, I stopped in the back of the
open admin area. Tara still manned Amber’s desk. Today she continued her preppy line
in a brilliant pink oxford and paisley pink and viridian green skirt. Aware of my
tank and jeans, I pulled the orange and grape flannel around me, then dropped my hands.
Now was not the time to worry about fashion.

At my entrance, Tara’s Luke-related sensor went off and she swiveled in her chair
to face me. The look on her face shot a sizzle of fear through me. I had never seen
Tara peeved. Her eyes narrowed into electric blue fire. Her perfectly coifed blonde
ponytail seemed to thicken, like a cat rearing its back, ready to hiss.

The gaggle of office girls sensed trouble and took off to hide in the copy room. At
the front counter, Pamela twisted in her seat. Her plumped lip smirked, sensing the
upcoming battle.

“What are
you
doing here?” Tara spat. “Assistant Principal Cooke said you were only allowed in
the school during extra-curricular hours.”

“I had an emergency.” I wondered if she could smell Luke on me at that distance. Maybe
Tara had bloodhound in her DNA. “I’m looking for Tinsley. Did he come into the office?”

“He’s speaking with Ms. Cooke
.
” Tara raised her chin to better look down her nose at me.

I knew that look. She must have learned it from Shawna.

“I felt sorry for you Tuckers,” Tara said without a hint of sorriness in her tone.
“But the rumors about you seem to be true.”

“I did not mean to push Shawna into a palm.”

“You told me Luke was dirt. You have been trying to make me forget about him. And
now I know why.”

I looked to the ceiling for help. No hand of God reached through the roof to save
me. All I saw was a half-burnt fluorescent bulb and some high-grade ceiling tile.
Served my wanton-self right, I supposed.

With a heaved sigh, I drew my eyes back to Tara. “I’m sorry. I never meant for anything
to happen. I just wanted his help on this case. I’ve been trying to get over him,
too. But right now, I really need to find Tinsley.”

“But what really boils my buttons,” said Tara, ignoring my lame apology, “is what
y’all are doing to the Bransons. Shawna is my true friend. She knew all along the
game you were playing, while I tried very hard to look toward the positive in your
nature.”

This time I turned to the floor and the fine, high-tread carpet beneath my boots.
I welcomed hell’s fury in exchange for Tara’s scorn. But no hole opened for me to
jump into. I had disappointed the sweetest girl in the world. Who had drank from the
pool of gray-eyes-and-dimples and received a dose of crazy for her trouble.

Been there. Done that. Lost my t-shirt.

My stomach hurt and my head hurt and I didn’t want to let down Tara now that she was
on a denunciatory roll, but it was time for bygones and the taking of Tinsley and
his cape to the Line Creek police. “Tara, I am really sorry. Let’s talk about this
another time.”

But Tara, who managed sharp words only once a year, could not stop. “And what your
brother did just proves what a shameless family you really are.”

“Hang on now
.
” I marched to her desk, holding up my hand to stop her tide of accusations. “What
did my brother do?”

“This morning? Shoved Shawna into his car at the Tru-Buy and took off with her? Everybody’s
talking about it. What kind of people are y’all? Some kind of sex maniacs?”

“Holy crap, of all the idiots.” I spun on my boot heels, running toward Cooke’s office.
Without knocking, I flung the door open. Tinsley turned in his chair to gape at me.
His blotchy face and spotted glasses gave evidence of his despair.

“I need Tinsley. Now,” I hollered. “Or at least his cape.”

Placing her hands on her desk, Cooke shoved out of her chair and pointed at the empty
seat next to Tinsley. Her scarf fluttered and then fell back into position onto the
lapels of her hand tailored, blue suit.

“You will sit.”

“I can’t sit. My brother’s kidnapped Shawna Branson and Tinsley’s cape is criminal
evidence,” I babbled. “Give me the cape and I’m running to the station with it.”

Cooke’s eyes widened. “Criminal evidence in what?”

“Dr. Vail’s murder.”

“You come with me young lady. And you,” she pointed at Tinsley
,
“
y
ou stay right where you are.”

I decided nabbing the cape and running was a better idea. But I hadn’t counted on
Cooke’s quick hand. As I snagged the cape off Tinsley’s lap, Cooke grasped my wrist
in a tight fisted grip. My hand opened and the cape fell back in his lap.

“You,” she announced, “are a trouble maker.”

I nodded. “But not as much as my brother, so let’s do this another time. I need to
go. Tara’s already bawled me out. I’ll just carry that over to whatever you have to
say.”

“Oh, you’re going to listen,” said Cooke, dropping my wrist. “Did you know about Mr.
Tinsley using school funds for bribing judges? There’s money missing from our accounts.”

“Theater funds,” sobbed Tinsley. “I have not dipped into other reserves. Honestly.”

“It was good you came clean, Mr. Tinsley. You’ll feel better for it
.
” I patted his shoulder and nodded at Cooke. “He finally told me. I knew he had done
something. But he’s harmless. Just caught up in Tiny Tony fever.”

“You need to tell me what you know. Come with me.” She snagged her phone off the desk,
pushed a bottle of water toward Tinsley, and pointed me toward the door. “Leave the
cape. Tinsley can take it to the police himself.”

Tinsley moaned, burying his face in his hands. “Just as the Phantom predicted. I am
doomed.”

“You’re not doomed,” I whispered. “Just tell the truth without the drama. The police
don’t like theater. Your crime is white collar. Just make sure they get the cape so
they can catch the true villain.”

With her phone in hand, Cooke grabbed her Louis Vuitton purse and a long, navy trench
coat from a hook on the back of the door.

“Wait,” I said. “Where are we going?”

“After we talk, I need to do school business,” she said. “Let’s make this quick.”

“You shouldn’t leave the school
.
I’m worried Preston King is going to do something terrible. I need to talk to Detective
Herrera.”

“I won’t be gone long and we’re on lockdown. Don’t worry about Preston.” She turned
toward Mr. Tinsley. “I want you to think carefully about what we discussed. Your classes
will be covered. I’ve already shifted the subs.”

Cooke nodded to me to exit the room and pulled the door shut behind us. Slinging her
leather purse over one shoulder, she folded the Burberry coat over her arm, then called
behind her. “Tara, I’m running to the bank in a bit. No visitors unless they’re a
parent picking up a child. And if a parent calls, all after-school activities have
been canceled for Miss Pringle’s funeral.”

I slunk before Cooke, scuffing my boots along the carpet. “Ma’am, I promise I’ll come
back to school later and you can ream me out then. My brother needs my help. And I’ve
a concussion. I really need to leave. My head is killing me.”

“Is your brother an adult?” Her clipped tone could hammer nails.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then he’s sufficient to help himself. But let’s stop in the nurse’s office and see
what we can do for your headache.”

Before I could protest, she pushed open the door of a room across the hall. I heard
her speaking to the nurse and she returned with a handful of pills and a bottle of
water.

“These are for children so I doubled the amount
.
”
S
he poured a handful of tiny A-shaped pills into my palm.

I popped the little pills in my mouth and slugged the water.

“Give them a few minutes to take effect,” she said. “Come with me.”

She led me through the back door and into the passage running behind the office. Stopping
before a closed, windowless door, she flipped through her large ring of keys. “Did
you know I’ve been at Peerless since it opened twenty-five years ago?”

“No,” I said, rubbing my neck. “Twenty-five years ago I was still in Missouri, wearing
diapers. I don’t know much about Peerless.”

“I began as a counselor. Devoted my life to this school and its students for little
reward other than knowing they are getting the best education I can provide. When
I see potential, I guide the child toward honing their talent. I’ve produced scientists,
executives, film stars, professional singers and dancers. And artists.”

“I admire anyone who goes into teaching. Lord knows you don’t do it for the pay.”
I bounced on my toes while she hunted for the key. “I am kind of expected at the Line
Creek Police Department.”

“You strike me as the type of student who didn’t care for rules,” she said. “I’ve
known a lot of students in my time. I can judge them fairly quickly. Faculty, too.
Although Tinsley surprised me.”

“Surprised me, too,” I said. “But I knew he was covering up something. Listen, what
do you want to know? I’m in a rush.”

“Everything you know about Tinsley. This will only take a moment.” She held the key
aloft, eyed the serial number, then unlocked the door. “I do not like my students
agitated and since you have arrived, my school has been in an uproar. You have not
followed my rules. I think you owe this explanation to me and to yourself.”

“Myself?” I squinted. “I owe myself more than a talking-to. I’ve got a concussion.
And I missed breakfast. I owe myself a trip to the Waffle House and a rest. But I’m
not going to get it because there are people depending on me.”

“There are people depending on me, too, Miss Tucker
.
” Cooke’s eyes blazed with condemnation. “Do you see anyone else working as hard as
I do to protect these students?”

“No, ma’am.” The hair rose on the back of my neck and my goose-egg thrummed.

“I have run this ship as second-in-command, for twenty years. I hired Cleveland. And
Maranda Pringle. And Vail, Tinsley, and every other teacher in this building. I keep
Peerless running smoothly. And I mean to continue to do so.”

“Of course, ma’am,” I said, wishing I had turned myself into the police like a normal
person should.