The Graves of the Guilty (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 3) (35 page)

Jake gave her a high five and offered her a piece of nicotine gum, but she brandished the package of Wrigley’s within her purse and, after exchanging collaborative grins, the pair turned their attention to Bryant.

“My best beginning was the day of my wedding,” the meteorologist stated, pushing a wave of blonde hair off his forehead. Cooper thought that Bryant looked like he should be on a beach in California instead of in a church in Richmond.

“I’m not trying to sound crass, but which wedding?” Savannah inquired.

Everyone giggled and Cooper took the opportunity to peek over at Nathan. He was refreshingly quiet. He simply listened to the others and sat in his chair with an aura of calm attentiveness that Cooper found appealing. She noticed that he tucked his feet under his chair as far as they would go and wondered if he was self-conscious about either his height or his incredibly large shoes.

“The first one,” Bryant said without ire. He was undoubtedly used to answering questions from the local media about his marriages and divorces. Cooper realized that he was probably closest to her in age. Everyone else seemed to be in his or her late thirties.

How many marriages could the guy have had and barely look a day over thirty?
she wondered.

“The wedding most people don’t know about because the marriage was annulled the next day,” Bryant continued.

“Sounds like Britney Spears.” Trish looked at the others. “Wasn’t her first marriage a Vegas hoax?” No one replied, and the subject of Britney’s marital past was quickly passed over.

“I loved my first wife more than I’ve ever loved any woman,” Bryant declared with feeling. “But she was pregnant when we married and, as it turned out, I wasn’t the father. She left me for
him
the day after our wedding.”

“That’s awful!” Trish cried, while the rest of the members nodded in sympathy.

Savannah turned her face toward Nathan. “What’s your most recent beginning?”

“Um.” He tucked his feet a few inches farther under the chair. “This is a bit embarrassing, but I just joined an online dating service.”

Trish licked her shellacked lips and leaned forward eagerly in her seat. “Which one?”

Nathan ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled, “RichmondMatchmaker.com.” He looked at Cooper. “I design and develop websites, so I spend most of my time in front of my computer. Figured I may as well date on the computer too.” He clasped his long fingers together and raised his eyebrows. “Your turn, new girl.”

Cooper traced the rim of her coffee cup. “I met a woman who’s a member here. She invited me to come and it felt like something I wanted to try.”

Jake raised his brows. “You looking for a church to join?”

“To tell the truth, I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Cooper said. And when the Sunrise members continued to gaze at her expectantly, she reluctantly added, “The man I expected to marry broke up with me. I’m trying to get over him—to move on. I thought coming here would help.”

“What happened?” Nathan asked sympathetically.

Encouraged by his tone, Cooper pushed the words out rapid-fire. “My ex-boyfriend is a home inspector. He liked to drink beer, and toward the end of our relationship he was drinking way too much. He started showing up to work late or sometimes not at all. One day he went to a home inspection totally drunk and it didn’t work out so well.”

Trish made a disapproving
tsk-tsk
noise. “Not good.”

. “Exactly,” Cooper agreed. “Drew threw up all over the client’s antique Oriental rug. He and the client, a guy named Trent, called each other some ugly names, punches were thrown, and finally a neighbor called the cops. Both men spent the night in jail, and when it was time for their bail to be posted . . . ah, now I’m at the hard part . . .”

“You’re doing great,” Jake coaxed. “Go on. Get it out.”

Cooper rubbed the smooth surface of the desktop. “This gorgeous redhead named Anna Lynne White came to bail out her brother, Trent.” Cooper fought to keep her voice even. “She also paid for Drew’s bail and announced to both guys that the price for her having sprung them was that they would both have to go to church with her straightaway. That was her deal. Trent did as his sister asked but the big surprise was that Drew did too. Apparently, Drew fell in love with Anna Lynne White the second he laid eyes on her. That spelled the end of our relationship.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Thank you for sharing with us,” Savannah said and some of the other group members echoed their gratitude. “We welcome you to our group with open hearts and open hands. If you’re ready for a new beginning, then we’ll do our best to support you as you step onto this unfamiliar road. Friends”—Savannah held out her hands—“let’s pray for our friend Cooper.”

Cooper watched as the other Sunrise members bowed their heads and closed their eyes.

They’re doing this for me,
she thought, amazed.

Just as the group finished praying, a plain-faced man in an expensive but rumpled suit entered the room. Everything about him spoke of excess, including the gold rings stuffed onto his sausagelike fingers, the loose double chin, and the swell of an overfed belly that strained the rich material of his double-breasted blazer. The large man gripped a Tupperware cake holder in his free hand as if it offered protection. Cooper could detect smudges of chocolate frosting shadowing the inside of the lid.

“Quinton?” Savannah lifted her nose in the air. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Jake confirmed, his rough voice sounding worried. “What’s wrong, big man?”

Staggering toward the closest empty seat, Quinton fell into the chair, as though being shoved down by the force of a great burden. Cooper felt the atmosphere in the classroom transform. Gone was the light-spirited talk and intimate banter. Every set of anxious eyes was glued to Quinton’s troubled face.

“Savannah,” he murmured in an anguished tone, “a member of our congregation has been killed.” He put his face in his hands and, without looking up, said, “And Wesley Hughes has been arrested for murder.”

As a collective, the group gasped.

Quinton stared down at his trembling hands and tried locking them together. His agitated gaze shifted and alighted on Cooper. “Forgive me.” He spoke directly to her. “I think I’m still in shock. I’m Quinton.”

Jake rose and left the room, returning seconds later with a paper cup filled with water.

“Who was killed?” Jake asked, putting a hand on Quinton’s shoulder.

Quinton took a sip of water and then put down the cup and sighed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, because she was such a sweet and generous woman. She was . . .” He trailed off and dropped his gaze.

Cooper felt a deep sense of dread creep into her belly and rise inside her chest. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Quinton’s pained face, even when the anguished man looked up and stared at Cooper’s peculiar eyes.

“Oh, my friends,” he cried softly. “It’s Brooke Hughes. And her husband has been accused of killing her.”

Trish closed her gaping mouth and then opened it again. “Brooke! I just saw her at the Women’s Fellowship luncheon last week. She was happy, healthy. This is insane. She can’t be dead! And Wesley wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head!”

Quinton nodded, reluctant to confirm what he knew. “One of the officers who responded to the 911 call is a member. I just overheard him in the teachers’ lounge telling Pastor Matthews what he knew.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes to stop his tears from escaping. “The cops think Wesley’s responsible.”

Jake sprang to his feet, his face filled with fury. “Wesley Hughes wouldn’t step on a snake even if it bit him. He’s been an elder at this church for years. Those idiots have the wrong man!”

“Friends, friends!” Savannah called out urgently. “Reach out to one another. Hold on tight. Now is the time for prayer. Then, we’ll come up with a plan of action.”

The Sunrise Bible Study members grasped one another’s hands. Cooper hastily closed her eyes and took the hands of Jake and Savannah. They squeezed hers firmly and she took comfort from the warmth of their skin.

Savannah prayed for strength and discernment and for help in discovering the truth. She also asked for comfort for Wesley Hughes, which told Cooper that Savannah also refused to believe that he was capable of killing his wife.

Why Brooke?
Cooper demanded silently, feeling a surge of anger.
Who would murder such a lovely person?

At that moment she was grateful to be in this circle of strangers.

Even after their prayer was over, the Bible study members did not release one another’s hands. They stayed still for a long time, wordlessly mourning the loss of Brooke Hughes. And in the silence, no one let go.

Keep reading for an excerpt from the second book

in the Hope Street Church Mystery series

by Ellery Adams,

The Way of the Wicked
,

available now!

Cooper Lee and her friends in the Hope Street Bible study group have just volunteered for a local charity, delivering much-needed food and cheer to shut-ins in their community. It seems like the perfect way for the group to do good, and to Cooper it offers the welcome opportunity to get out of the house and spend more time with her new boyfriend, Nathan. But when one of the charity’s recipients is murdered, the police have no choice but to single out the church group and their fellow volunteers as the prime suspects.

Determined to make sure no evil deed goes unpunished, Cooper and her friends decide to discreetly interrogate each volunteer in their search for the killer, even if it means putting themselves at risk in the process. And as serving the needy becomes more treacherous than any of them could have imagined, they just might discover that the road to murder is paved with good intentions.

1

Cooper Lee was not having a good day. She had spent the morning at an elementary school in the Far West End trying to coax their aged copier, a Toshiba e-Studio 28, back to life. But the machine had given its all and no amount of replacement parts, duct tape, or prayers were going to keep it running.

Kneeling on the floor next to her toolbox, a soiled rag, and the copier’s rectangular back panel, Cooper examined the dirty developer tray. When she’d removed the part, her hands and forearms had gotten covered in toner. She didn’t even notice her soiled fingers when she used them to pinch her nose and rub her temples in frustration. It was going to be impossible to resuscitate the spent machine, but it would be equally difficult to break this news to the school secretary.

Unaware of the splotches of gray and black ink on her face, Cooper sighed. She knew that the school didn’t have the funds in their budget to purchase a new copier, and they’d desperately need one soon, as summer break was ticking to an end.

“Hey!” a voice nearby whispered. Cooper looked up to see a girl dressed in a Hannah Montana T-shirt and white shorts standing over her.

“Hi.” She smiled. “Aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”

“My mom works here,” the girl replied. “I had to help her carry stuff into her office.” She continued to study Cooper’s face with interest. “You look like you have the boooooobonic plague. I learned all about that for my summer reading assignment.” She crossed her arms across her chest and peered at Cooper intently. “Are those black
boils?”

Cooper laughed. “No, I do not have the
bubonic
plague. I probably got ink from the copier on my face. Happens all the time.”

The girl frowned. “Gross.
I
don’t want a dirty job when I grow up. I’m going to be a famous singer. I’ll live in a huge house, get driven around in a super-big limo, and own, like, twenty horses.” She stretched out her skinny arms to emphasize her point. “Then my mama can quit her job. She’s the school nurse and I think what she does is gross, too.” The girl lowered her voice to an awed whisper. “She gives people
shots!
With
needles!”

Examining her reflection in the shiny surface of an adjustable steel wrench, Cooper grinned and began to wipe the ink off her face with a clean rag. “Well, I’m happiest when I’m getting messy. My hands are usually covered in ink, garden soil, or cookie dough.”

“You’re weird,” the girl whispered and then looked back over her shoulder as though her mother might be close enough to overhear her rude remark. “But you’re still pretty,” she amended and then skipped away.

Cooper replaced the back panel of the defunct machine, taking her time turning the screws. This was the only part of her job at Make It Work!, an office-machine sales and repair company operating out of Richmond, Virginia, that Cooper disliked. She hated telling nice people, like the kind and courteous secretary in the front office, that she’d been unable to fulfill their expectations and could not repair their machine.