Perp and Circumstance: A Myrtle Crumb Mystery (Myrtle Crumb Mystery Series Book 5)

by Gayle Trent

  Then I went to the middle school. I didn’t have an excuse today. I hadn’t called in time to ask Sunny not to take a lunch or plan on eating in the cafeteria, so I just went. I signed in, and in the box that asked the reason for my visit, I put Guidance Counselor. And then, instead of going to the main office like I guess I was supposed to have done, I went on down the hall to the guidance counselor’s office.

  I stepped inside, and a fairly plain woman of about thirty-five was sitting at a desk at the far end of the room. There were shelves and magazine racks on the walls which displayed college brochures, career assessment tests, and information on tutoring.

  The woman raised her head and pushed her tortoiseshell glasses back up on her face. “May I help you?”

  “I hope so,” I said. “Are you the guidance counselor?”

  “I am.” She smiled. “My name’s Beth Wilson.”

  “Beth, I’m Myrtle Crumb. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Myrtle Crumb. That name rings a bell. Have we discussed your child before?”

  “No, ma’am,” I said. “But I did help clear up that theft business last year.”

  “Of course.”

  I couldn’t tell from her vague expression whether she truly recalled the incident or not. But that didn’t matter. I needed her help.

  “May I?” I gestured toward one of the vinyl chairs in front of her desk.

  “Y-yes, I’m sorry. It was rude of me not to ask you to sit when you first came in. How may I help you, Ms. Crumb?”

  “I have a couple of questions about Colby Jackson.”

  She stiffened. “Is Colby some relation to you?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’m sorry, but I can’t discuss him with you,” she said.

  “I understand.” I paused. “Could you either give me the name of his parents or legal guardians, or could you pass my information along to them?”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I’d like to talk with them,” I said.

  She pressed her lips together. “And what is it you’d like to speak with them about?”

  “I’m sure you’ve heard what happened to Mr. Cole.”

  “I’ve heard about Jeff’s suspension, if that’s what you’re referring to.”

  “It is. It’s come to my attention that Colby was failing Mr. Cole’s class, and I’m wondering if he might’ve retaliated against his teacher by planting drugs in his desk.”

  Ms. Wilson pushed back away from her desk. “Ms. Crumb, just because a child is failing a class doesn’t mean he would do something vengeful to his teacher. Is that the story Jeff is spreading around?”

  “No indeed. But my granddaughter believes Mr. Cole to be innocent, and I intend to find out who framed the man and why.”

  “Just because Jeff Cole is a popular teacher doesn’t mean he’s above reproach,” she said.

  “So you believe Mr. Cole is guilty as charged.”

  She lowered her eyes. “I’m not saying that. The matter is under investigation. However, we adults cannot go around accusing children without a great deal of proof…especially when those children have enough grief in their lives to begin with.”

  “I know Jeffrey Cole had an exemplary record up until those drugs were found in his desk drawer and Colby Jackson has been expelled from at least one previous school.” I leaned forward. “My gut tells me that of the two, Mr. Cole is the one I can trust.”

  “Don’t be so sure. Yes, Colby Jackson is a troubled child, but until you have proof he framed Mr. Cole, you’d best not be accusing him to me or to anyone else.” She nodded toward the door. “I trust you can see yourself out.”

  “Yeah.” I got up and left.

  When I got out into the hall, I nearly ran headlong into Brandon Easton. He was dressed in jeans, a blue polo, and sneakers—the middle-school boy’s unofficial uniform—and his hair was parted at the side and neatly combed. He was a cute young‘un, but something about him had always struck me like he was too good to be true, you know? Like he’d be sweet to your face and talk ugly about you behind your back.

  “Good morning, Ms. Crumb,” he said. “I hope Crimson is all right.”

  “Crimson?” I glanced back at the guidance counselor’s door. “Oh, no, she’s fine. I was just trying to see if Ms. Wilson could give me any information on Colby Jackson. She wouldn’t do it, though.”

  Brandon looked around to make sure he wasn’t going to be overheard and lowered his voice. “You didn’t hear this from me, but Colby is a creep. His dad went off somewhere. And his mom has to work two jobs to support Colby and his older brother, so she’s never around either. No wonder they stay in trouble, huh?”

  “Yeah. No wonder. Aren’t the grandparents in the picture?”

  “I guess not. Every kid isn’t as lucky as Crimson and me, right, Ms. Crumb?”

  I smiled. “Right. I won’t hold you up any longer.”

  “Wait,” he said. “Did Colby do something mean to Crimson or something?”

  “No.” This time I was the one making sure we weren’t being overheard. “I got wind of the fact that he was failing Mr. Cole’s class, and I wondered if maybe he didn’t plant those drugs in the desk to frame Mr. Cole.”

  “I’ve heard his brother smokes weed, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s the case.” He frowned. “But you should let the police handle it, Ms. Crumb. Colby and his brother run with a rough crowd.”

  “Thanks, Brandon. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Well, I’m off to the library. Have a good one.”

  “You, too,” I said.

  As I walked away, I heard Brandon say, “Hey, Colby! What’s up, man?”

  I turned to see a sullen-looking young man with auburn hair lift a hand in greeting to Brandon before ambling into the guidance counselor’s office.

  * * *

  As soon as I got out to my car, I called Cooper. When he answered, I immediately said, “Coop, I might’ve done a bad thing.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes.” I explained about coming to see the guidance counselor to see what I could learn about Colby Jackson. “It’s not that I was accusing the young‘un of anything. I just want to cover all my bases, you know.”

  “Myrtle, honey, I thought you were letting the police handle this.”

  “Did you?” I asked. “Did you really?”

  “No, of course not. Go on.”

  I went on to explain about Ms. Wilson getting upset at my implication that Colby was behind the whole thing just because he was a troubled child. “And she let on like I might not know Mr. Cole as well as I’d like to believe. Which is true. Because I don’t know Mr. Cole at all. I’m just going on Sunny’s feeling.”

  “I know that. I guess the guidance counsellor was just defensive of the boy because that’s her job,” said Coop. “Did she tell you anything helpful?”

  “No.”

  “She didn’t tell us anything helpful either.”

  I sighed. “I’m sorry, Coop. I didn’t mean to step on your toes.”

  He chuckled. “You didn’t. But I know to wear my steel-toed boots around you just in case.” When I didn’t join in his laughter, he said, “Aw, come on, darlin’. I’m just kidding with you.”

  “I know. But that’s not all that happened.” I told him about meeting up with Brandon and what all he’d told me about Colby Jackson. “Then he spoke to the boy in the hall a couple of moments later like they were the best of friends.”

  “Well, I can’t say I blame Brandon for not wanting to make an enemy out of Colby Jackson. But if it’s any consolation, we’re looking into the parental situation there.”

  “Whether the boy set up Mr. Cole or not, if his family needs some help, please let me know if there’s anything I can do,” I said.

  Coop laughed again. “Offering to babysit, Myrtle?”

  “Not unless I have to.”

  Chapter Seven

  When I got home, I called Bettie Easton and mentioned I happened to run
into Brandon in the hall at school.

  “Oh, what was he wearing? Did he look handsome?” she asked.

  “He looked precious. He had on a blue polo which really brought out his eyes. He really is a handsome boy, Bettie.”

  “Thank you. And your Crimson—or, Sunny—is gorgeous. Wouldn’t it be funny if they decided to date one of these days?”

  “Wouldn’t it?” No, it wouldn’t was what I was thinking. That little ol’ Brandon would probably break my Sunny’s heart in two and then I’d have to break him, his family, and their whole car lot into a million pieces. But those young‘uns were too young to date. Weren’t they? Of course, they were. I didn’t have to worry about that yet.

  “What were you doing at the school?” she asked. “Snooping?”

  “Of course. I went to talk with the guidance counselor about Colby Jackson, but that woman’s lips were closed tighter than a jar of homemade pickles. The only thing she didn’t seem to mind discussing was the fact that just because Jeffrey Cole was popular doesn’t mean he isn’t guilty.”

  “Well, I don’t believe that for a minute. Do you?”

  “No, I don’t. But I’m wondering if Colby is as bad as his record and some of his behaviors make him out to be,” I said. “I mean, Brandon spoke with him in the hall.”

  “My Brandon? Are you sure?”

  All right, I have to admit that gave me a bit of a kick to get Bettie’s hackles up like that. “I’m certain. He spoke to Colby as I was leaving.”

  “Maybe it was a different Colby.”

  “That’s possible. Lots of pregnant women crave cheese, I imagine.” I paused. “Anyway, Brandon told me Colby and his brother run with a rough crowd. So if that was the Colby he was speaking to, I don’t blame him. Colby Jackson doesn’t strike me as the kind of boy you’d want to have on your bad side.”

  “No, I guess not. But I sure don’t want Brandon associating with him.”

  I decided to throw Bettie a bone. “Brandon did say the sweetest thing. He told me that not everybody was as lucky to have good grandparents as he and Crimson are.”

  “Well, that was sweet, wasn’t it? How come him to think of that though?”

  “We were discussing Colby’s situation. Apparently, the young‘un’s daddy is out of the picture, his mother has to work two jobs to support the family, and the grandparents don’t live around here.”

  Bettie clucked her tongue. “That’s a shame. I wish there was something we could do.”

  “So do I. Maybe we can find out where the grandparents live and give them a call or something,” I said. “So have you come across any interesting information about Mark Shaw?”

  “Nothing much. The man seems as squeaky clean and almost as popular as Mr. Cole. No one I’ve talked with yet knows of any rivalry between them or anything.”

  “All right. Just keep digging. Melvia and Tansie are looking into Leta Thompson.” I told Bettie about Tansie’s visit this morning.

  “Hmm…wonder what Leta Thompson did to Ada that Tansie is still carrying a grudge over after all these years?”

  “It’s hard to tell. But I’ll tell, if I can find out.” I laughed, and Bettie did too.

  * * *

  Along about three o’clock that afternoon, Tansie and Melvia came by to tell me what they’d learned about Leta Thompson. If you’d like the short version—it wasn’t much. They found out she’d never married, had been working for the middle school since she got her teaching degree, and she had two cats named Arthur and Chesapeake. And while Tansie didn’t have any hard evidence—or any evidence at all, for that matter—she was convinced that Leta Thompson set Jeffrey Cole up and that she must be stopped at all costs.

  I agreed with Tansie (to her face) and told her and Melvia to keep working on it to see what else they could find out about Ms. Thompson.

  “If we can track down a drug dealer who’d testify that he knows her,” Melvia said, “we’d be home free.”

  “Well, now, how’re we gonna do that, Melvia?” her sister asked. “Are you gonna go around asking people if they deal drugs?”

  “Yes. I plan to start with the ones that look seedy.”

  Tansie slapped her hand to her forehead, but I had to admit it sounded like a good idea…only not for Melvia.

  “I’ll see if Sheriff Norville can get some of his criminal informants to roll over on Ms. Thompson,” I said.

  Melvia liked that idea, although I could tell she was disappointed that she wouldn’t get to interrogate seedy people.

  After talking with Bettie, Tansie, and Melvia, I realized I needed to talk with Mr. Shaw and Ms. Thompson myself. I mean, it was good to have them ferret out information, but there was nothing like getting a feel for a suspect your own self. I checked the clock and knew the staff hadn’t left the school yet, so I called and got the office hours of Mr. Shaw and Ms. Thompson. Then I made appointments with both teachers.

  That done, I called Faye and invited her and Sunny to dinner tomorrow.

  “Is this a social call, Mother, or are you investigating that teacher’s claims for Crimson?” she asked.

  “Now you already know I’m looking into Mr. Cole’s accusation. In fact, I thought I’d invite him to dinner too.”

  She blew out a breath. “Mother, I—”

  “He’s very handsome,” I interrupted. “And single.”

  “Are you trying to fix me up?”

  “I am if he’s not guilty.”

  She made a noise that sounded like a growl.

  “I’m baking chicken breasts, making mashed potatoes and gravy, deviled eggs, macaroni and cheese, probably a cake for dessert.”

  “So you’re trying to match-make and make me fat,” she said.

  “One meal will not make you fat. Y’all coming or not?”

  “We’ll be there. What time?”

  I gave her a time and said I needed to call Mr. Cole.

  “Maybe he won’t be able to make it,” she said.

  “Maybe, but I’m hoping he will be. If you don’t hear back from me, come looking your best,” I told her.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  With the call to Faye out of the way, I called Jeffrey Cole. He might be a little harder to persuade to come to dinner. Fortunately, he answered and I didn’t have to leave a voicemail.

  “Hi, Mr. Cole. This is Myrtle Crumb, Crimson Dailey’s grandmother.”

  He took a deep breath. “Ms. Crumb, how can I help you?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about how I can help you. I’m making dinner tomorrow for Crimson and her mother, and I thought you might like to join us,” I said. “I figure you’re bound to be under a lot of stress, and a laid-back, home-cooked meal might do you some good.”

  “That’s very kind of you to offer, Ms. Crumb, but—”

  “If you refuse, you’ll hurt my feelings…and likely Sunny’s—or Crimson’s—too. And I know you wouldn’t want to do that.”

  “Of course, I wouldn’t, but—”

  “Good.” I gave him my address and said we’d look forward to seeing him at five-thirty tomorrow afternoon. The poor man never stood a chance at saying no.

  My next call was to Coop. All I had to say to him was, “We’re having chicken tomorrow evening.”

  Chapter Eight

  I went to the grocery store to get the stuff I needed to fix tomorrow night’s supper. Lo and behold, who’d I run into but that snooty guidance counselor, Beth Wilson.

  “What a surprise seeing you here, Ms. Crumb,” she said.

  “Why’s it a surprise? You don’t think I like to eat?”

  “Oh…uh…I didn’t mean that. I guess I just meant I’m surprised seeing you twice in one day.”

  “Well, I’m a might taken aback to see you again too,” I said. She was blocking the shelf I wanted to look at. “If you’ll just let me get what I need, I’ll be on my way.”

  “Please, Ms. Crumb, I’m sorry we got off on the wrong foot.” She moved out
from in front of the coating mix I needed for my chicken. “I’m just not at liberty to discuss the students with you. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Yep.” I got my box of coating mix and dropped it into my cart.

  “I sincerely do apologize. Please don’t be angry with me.”

  “I’m not angry,” I said. “But I wasn’t in your office to discuss your students. I was there to find out what you thought about Mr. Cole. And you more than made that clear to me.”

  Okay, so I was there to discuss a student. But it was only a half lie since I did want to see what she thought of Mr. Cole.

  “I…um…might’ve given you the wrong impression there too. I don’t think Mr. Cole is a bad teacher…per se. I’m just not sure he’s right for our school.”

  “Do you think he’s guilty of the crime he’s being accused of?” I asked.

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Well, I appreciate your time, Ms. Wilson.” With that, I strode on down the aisle. I did wonder why she was being so apologetic.

  * * *

  After I got home and put the groceries away, I gave Matlock his supper. I’d had a ham sandwich before I’d left the house. Anyhow, while Matlock ate, I told him about my two encounters with Beth Wilson.

  “She’s the guidance counselor at Sunny’s school, but she doesn’t strike me as the sort who’d inspire a young‘un to confide in her or ask her to help ‘em decide on a line of work.”

  Matlock glanced up at me in an understanding way before going back to eating.

  “I wonder if after I left her office today, she called that little old Colby Jackson in to see her.” I replayed my leaving and conversing with Brandon Easton in my head. Surely, I hadn’t been gone long enough for Ms. Wilson to call Colby down and for him to arrive at her door. Had I? It had to have either been that Colby had a scheduled appointment with her or the boy had just dropped in on her for some reason.

  Ms. Wilson appeared to be more willing to believe that Mr. Cole was the only one responsible for that marijuana in his desk drawer than she was willing to believe that Colby Jackson—a known troublemaker—was in on it. What did Beth Wilson know about Colby—and possibly Jeffrey Cole—that I didn’t? That’s what I needed to find out.