CHAPTER SEVEN
I caught Alice Fortune, a short, stout woman with caramel skin and close-cropped black hair, in the middle of a class. I peered through the small window in the door. She read, while the kids bent over their desks in classic test-taking posture. When I tapped on the glass, she strode toward the door, her colorful dashiki-style dress swaying over ample hips. “Keep your eyes on your papers,” she ordered before stepping into the hall.
“I’m in the middle of a class,” she said, glancing at my pass. “If you have a problem to discuss—”
“I’m very sorry to interrupt. I have one quick question for you.” I introduced myself and explained what I was doing there. “Is Tina Jackson in school today?”
As I explained my purpose for being there, her expression changed from irritation to deep concern. She paused and took a breath. “Tina hasn’t been in school all week. I’m worried about that child,” she said. “She’s too smart to be involved in this kind of nonsense.
“I’m worried about her, too. Her mother was recently murdered.”
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