The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (21 page)

“I know about feelin’ like you’re drownin’, child. There was a time, before my boys were born, that I almost let those blues take charge of my life.” She fingered the handkerchief. “Your grandpa traveled a lot, you know, sellin’ dental supplies. He was often gone, but we was doin’ okay. After only bein’ married a year, I found I was expectin’ a baby.” Grammy’s voice turned to a whisper. “But the child wasn’t to be. She came too early, while Earl Senior was in Duluth.”

“Oh, Grammy,” Cooper whispered sympathetically.

Steeling herself, Grammy rubbed her bony knees with both hands and stared, unseeing, out the window. “Folks thought I’d be mad at Earl Senior, but I was an empty hole of a woman. I didn’t yell or cry or anythin’. I was frozen like a piece of ice. Losin’ that baby ripped my heart to shreds.” She sighed, remembering what may have been the most painful moment of her life. “When I got out of the hospital, your grandpa picked me up, but he didn’t drive me home. He drove us straight to Albuquerque and checked us into a hotel. He told me we’d stay until I was ready to go home—to start livin’ again.”

“How long were you there?”

Grammy chuckled, but there was no humor in the sound. “Two weeks. That was enough for me. I started to miss Southern food, my house and garden, my friends. I told Earl I was ready to go and while we were packin’ up he gave me this.”

She picked up the handkerchief. “He told me that this pin was to remind me that we can get beyond the greatest of hurts if someone loves us. If we just hold on and do our best, the Lord will answer our prayers and see us through. I wore this every day until I gave birth to Earl Junior. Then I didn’t need it anymore, so I put it away. Now I want you to have it. Bear your grandpa’s words in mind. He was pretty smart at times.”

Grammy peeled back the soft folds of cloth to reveal a silver butterfly pin. It had a narrow body and delicate filigree wings. When Cooper held it to the light, it twinkled in the palm of her hand like a living creature. Looking at her grandmother’s weathered face, Cooper didn’t know if she was more thankful for the butterfly or for Grammy’s story.

She reached out, put her arms around her grandmother’s scrawny shoulders, and squeezed her gently. “Thank you. I’ll wear it all the time.”

“Or until your most important prayers are answered,” Grammy whispered into Cooper’s hair. Little Boy leapt onto the bed and mewled. He was jealous of the attention Cooper was receiving. Grammy gathered the enormous tabby into her arms and waved at Cooper with her elbow. “Now go on with you, it’s time for me and Little Boy to watch Jerry Springer.”

13

Cooper pinned the butterfly to a moss-colored long-sleeve T-shirt. Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, the woman in the green top and jeans looked liked someone on a mission, like someone who was ready to face the future.

Inspired and reinvigorated by her dialogue with Grammy, Cooper stopped by her parents’ kitchen to say hello before heading out to the baseball game.

“Care to join us for dinner, honey?” Maggie asked while opening the oven door to see if the brisket she was cooking was bathing in enough au jus. “We have plenty.”

“Thanks, Mama.” Cooper inhaled the delicious aroma. “But I’m having hot dogs at the Little League game tonight.”

Maggie scooped gravy over the brisket and eased the oven closed. “You still sleuthing?”

Cooper nodded. “We are. It’s taking longer than I thought to gather clues, though.”

“Just think of how the police feel following those kinds of twisty, curvy paths every day—knowing the trail they’re on may not ever lead them to the right person,” Maggie said. “When I think of those who’ve lost a loved one to violence or about those poor parents that may never see their missing children . . .” She dabbed at the tears pooling in her eyes with the edge of the checkered dishcloth.

“We’re not giving up, Mama,” Cooper said quickly, before her mother could dwell on recent headlines. “I think about Brooke Hughes all the time. And her husband was denied bail so he’s mighty down these days, but he has his son to live for.”

Maggie kissed her daughter on the cheek. “I’m glad I get to see you every single day, my sweet girl. Whenever I have my doubts about this world, I just need to look at one of my babies to know that I did something right.”

Cooper inhaled the scent of her mother’s unique buttery, forsythia-tinged fragrance. “You do plenty right, Mama,” she assured her mother. “I’m off to meet my Bible study friends at the game, but if there’s any brisket left I’d love to make a sandwich with it for work tomorrow.”

Maggie snorted. “Between your daddy and Grammy, that three-legged dog out back’ll be lucky to get any. I don’t know how Grammy eats so much meat and stays so skinny. Must be the trick to livin’ to a ripe old age.” She winked. “But don’t worry, I’ll fix you up a proper sandwich and put it in your fridge. You have fun now.”

• • •

When Cooper arrived at the Tuckahoe Little League fields, she was amazed at the huge number of minivans and SUVs crowding the parking lots around the twelve playing fields. Cooper had no idea where to meet the rest of the Sunrise gang, so she steered her Jeep around the deepest dips on the dirt road and looked for Nathan’s pea-green BMW. Fortunately, she spotted Jake’s work van instead.

The Mr. Faucet van was hard to miss. It was painted sky blue with a shiny silver water faucet on each side. Fat water drops with smiling faces dripped from the faucets and a cartoon plumber, wearing white overalls and carrying a wrench, was frozen in the act of waving. The slogan on each side of the van read
Get the drips outta your life.

As she approached the first field on the right, Cooper noted that the game was already under way. The Mr. Faucet kids were dressed in sky-blue shirts while the opposing team wore black jerseys. Cooper was unsurprised to see the Capital City logo on the back of the jerseys, but she hadn’t expected to see a local news team filming snippets of the game. She scanned the adults on the field, trying to gauge which of the two coaches might be Cindi’s boyfriend, but both men were too far away.

“Cooper! Over here!” Nathan called from behind her.

Cooper turned to see Nathan hiking over from the direction of the concession building. He was carrying a cardboard tray laden with hot dogs and packets of condiments. “I got you two dogs,” he said when he’d caught up to her. “But this doesn’t count as me treating you to dinner.” He smiled. “Are you free tomorrow night? I thought we’d see a matinee and then eat afterward.”

As Cooper looked into Nathan’s kind face, she felt a warmth flood through her. She realized that the best way of letting go of the past was to leap into the future. Despite the pain she felt over Drew’s engagement, she was now certain that there was nothing left of her old relationship to cling to.

“That sounds great,” Cooper said and smiled. She touched the butterfly pinned on her T-shirt right above her left collarbone and said a silent prayer of gratitude. She was going to move on. She was going to pursue happiness until she held it in her hand.

Unaware of Cooper’s inner dialogue, Nathan led her to the bleachers where the Mr. Faucet fans sat. They climbed up several rows, waving at Quinton and Bryant, who scooted over to make room for their friends and the tray of hot dogs.

“You make a fine waiter, Nathan.” Quinton patted the bleacher beside him, greeted Cooper, and then reached for a hot dog. “Nice night for a ball game, eh?”

“It is,” Cooper agreed and said hello to Bryant.

“We have sodas over here.” Bryant pointed to the bleachers to the right of his hip. “No diet though. You okay with full-sugar Sprite?”

“I love sugar in all forms,” Cooper said, accepting a hot dog and soda.

Nathan glanced over at her as the Mr. Faucet batter swung at a pitch from a very determined-looking nine-year-old. Unfortunately, he missed the pitch completely and the ball landed in the catcher’s mitt with a resounding
thump.
“I like that butterfly pin. Is it new?”

“My grandmother gave it to me earlier today.” Cooper doctored her hot dog with catsup. She then added a squiggle of mustard and three dollops of sweet relish. “Why is the news crew here?” she asked, wanting to avoid going into any detail about why Grammy had been prompted to give her the pin.

He shrugged. “I don’t know, I saw them interviewing Cindi’s boyfriend before the game, so we might be able to learn something about him.” He sipped his soda. “And I’m sure it was her boyfriend because she blew him a kiss before sitting with the Capital City fans. Too bad her man has his baseball cap pulled so low over his face. Makes it hard to see his features.” He gestured at the opposing bleachers. “Savannah’s our ears on the other side until Trish arrives. She’s right next to Cindi, so when Trish joins Savannah, it won’t look like she’s there to stalk the secretary—just meeting an old friend at the game.”

The four friends watched the action on the field for a while. When one of Jake’s players hit a home run, they cheered with so much gusto that he arched an eyebrow in their direction. Cooper recognized Jake, but she had no idea which of the two Capital City coaches might be Cindi’s boyfriend and Cindi didn’t signal to anyone on the field. In fact, she didn’t even clap when the Capital City team made a good play.

As the game progressed, Cooper felt both relaxed and content. During the bottom of the third inning, she leaned back on the bleachers and stared at the silver clouds stretching across the night sky. Every now and then a star would reveal itself from behind the clouds and wink before vanishing again. By the sixth inning, Cooper had drained her Sprite and wanted another, so she told Nathan that she was heading for the snack bar for a refill.

He paused in mid-clap as the Mr. Faucet team took the field. “Wait!” He grabbed Cooper’s elbow before she could stand up. “Don’t look now, but Trish has arrived. It looks like she brought one of her little dogs.”

“And it’s wearing a doggie baseball cap!” Quinton exclaimed. “My nephews would get a kick out of that.”

“That pooch with the yellow fur tied to the end of the bleacher doesn’t seem to approve of Trish’s fashion choice for her canine. Look,” Bryant said, pointing. “Both dogs are barking their heads off,” Bryant continued. “Whoa! That woman is sure jerking that poodle around!”

They all focused their attention on the poodle’s owner. A middle-aged woman with a haggard face and hair drawn tightly into a ponytail shouted at her dog. She then gesticulated angrily at Trish, who scowled but marched to the other end of the bleachers and plunked down next to Savannah. While pouting and throwing dirty looks at the poodle’s unpleasant owner, Trish seemed to be complaining to Savannah and Cindi. She had clearly won Cindi’s sympathy, for within moments of Trish being seated, the two women had their heads bent and were conversing feverishly. Trish only hesitated long enough to shoot fierce looks at the other dog owner, but Cindi didn’t even glance at the other woman. She kept her eyes fixed on the game.

Two surly-looking children sat in front of Cindi, throwing popcorn listlessly onto the ground. Cooper wondered if they were Cindi’s kids and for a moment felt a touch of pity for the single mom. When Cindi leaned over to reprimand the preteens, they responded by rolling their eyes and continuing their aimless and irritating activity.

“Seems like Cindi’s got her hands full,” Cooper said.

Nathan frowned. “It can’t be easy for her. Maybe that’s why she’s after a married guy. He has a stable job and is obviously good with kids. Looks like her two could use a father figure.”

Cooper eyed Cindi’s son and daughter as they tossed ice cubes into the air and then tried to catch them with their mouths. “Those kids may be the reason Cindi’s boyfriend never leaves his wife. Not that he should,” she added hastily.

Nathan and Cooper stopped staring at Trish and made their way toward the refreshment stand. As they walked, Cooper noticed a silver Porsche pulling onto a portion of grass that was clearly not a parking space.

“I want to see what brought the camera crew out here tonight,” Nathan said in a low voice.

The local reporter, a comely brunette with long legs, hustled over to welcome the sports car’s driver as he gracefully unfolded his tall frame from the cramped interior of his car.

“Good evening, Mr. Maynard,” the reporter trilled. “Thank you so much for giving us the heads-up about your surprise donation and for coming straight from the airport. Were you on vacation?”

“Switzerland. On business. And please call me Vance.” The soft-spoken man in his late forties extended a tanned arm to the reporter.

The reporter stood up a tad bit straighter. “You’ll be taking the field during the seventh inning, correct?” Without waiting for him to answer, she plowed on. “Perhaps I could ask you some questions before you make the announcement?”

“Sure thing.” He flashed her a white-toothed smile that seemed well rehearsed to Cooper. It was a politician’s smile—the kind that emanated from a mouth of expensive veneers but was not reflected in the eyes. Vance Maynard untied a golf sweater from his shoulders and pulled it over his head, slightly ruffling his salt-and-pepper hair. He was an attractive man and seemed to immediately put both the reporter and her cameraman at ease. He reminded Cooper of Bob Barker, but something about both his name and face seemed familiar. Where had she seen this man before?

“Why don’t we have a seat?” Vance indicated a nearby picnic table.

Nathan turned to Cooper. “Maybe the reporter knows the name of Cindi’s boyfriend. Let’s talk to her when she’s done. We’ll buy some ice cream and eat it at the table next to hers.”

The cantankerous owner of the poodle mix was at the concession stand. Instead of berating her dog, she was complaining about the hue of her hot dog to the teenage boy running the stand.

“Do you think I want food poisoning on top of all my other problems?” she shrieked. “I know that a public school education doesn’t mean much these days, but surely you must be aware that
bright red
is not a natural color for a cooked hot dog!”