The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (8 page)

Gathering her two books, Cooper made her way to the register. Feeling excited about this new chapter in her life, she decided to add three peanut-butter meltaways to her pile and handed the cashier her Visa card.

“I just hope there’s room on this card,” she told the young male cashier ruefully.

“Almost maxed out?” he inquired kindly.

“Yep. I used to split the payments with my boyfriend, but he’s gone and all I have left is a whopper of a Visa bill.”

“Well, from where I’m standing, that guy’s crazy.” The cashier grinned and handed Cooper her purchases. “Pretty lady like you. With those super-cool eyes?” He stopped as Cooper blushed. “Sorry. But if you want someone to compliment you some more, you know where to find me.” Cooper gave him a grateful smile and left the store. Inside the Jeep, she sank back against the seat, popped one of the candies in her mouth, pulled her new Bible out of the plastic bag and began to finger its gilt edges.

“Let’s see what you have to say.” Cooper closed her eyes, opened the Bible, and placed her index finger onto a random line of text. Opening her eyes, she read aloud,
“The LORD watches over you
—
the LORD is your shade at your right hand.”

Cooper glanced at her empty passenger seat and immediately an image of Brooke’s face appeared in her mind. Cooper looked back at Psalm 121. “I hear what you’re trying to tell me. You have a job for me to do. Don’t worry. I’m on it.”

• • •

The moment Cooper got home she retrieved the rag containing the remnants of Brooke’s document from her toolbox. After taking a refreshing sip of cold sweet tea, she steeled herself and unfolded the rag. Just as she feared, there were dozens of paper scraps lying inside.

“Good thing I love puzzles.” Cooper cleared a space on her kitchen table. She then placed two sheets of black construction paper side by side and dumped the bits of paper onto the sheet on the right. Her plan was to reconstruct the document and secure the pieces to the sheet on the left using clear tape.

She began by sifting through the litter and pulling out the biggest scraps. She examined each one through a magnifying glass and then laid it out on the black paper. Unfortunately, many of the pieces were covered by smeared ink, but she could see legible, typewritten letters here and there too.

“This is going to take a miracle,” she said, staring forlornly at the seemingly impossible task, but she was determined to succeed in re-creating the document. Somehow, she felt that Brooke was looking over her shoulder, willing her to solve the riddle of her death.

“Yoo-hoo!” Ashley’s voice interrupted Cooper’s work. Her sister swept into the room with a stuffed Nordstrom bag in each hand. “Here you are, hiding up in your tower like Rapunzel!” she exclaimed and deposited the bags on the empty chair across from Cooper.

The action caused several tiny fragments of paper to flutter off the table and onto the floor. “Ashley!” Cooper held out a hand to prevent her sister from moving again. “Watch out.”

Ashley pouted. “Well, that’s a fine way to greet me, especially when I brought goodies.”

Cooper eyed the bags warily. “Are you going to try and gussy me up again? I’m busy right now.”

“Doing what?” Ashley put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to that new church and you’ve joined a Bible study. Next on your list is to meet a nice man with a big heart and a career that will make him an excellent provider.” She gave Cooper an appraising look. “But first you really need to get a haircut. Your hair has hung long and straight to your shoulders since you were ten. And how about just a
little
makeup? I know you’ve got that natural look going on and you can pull it off better than most, but you could
enhance
that pretty skin of yours and those nice, symmetrical lips with a bit of color. I’m not talking anything rash—”

“Speaking of rashes,” Cooper interrupted, trying not to think about how Drew had liked her to wear her hair long and straight or how he had always insisted that she looked better without makeup. “Why is your face so splotchy?”

Ashley gave a little squeak as she touched her cheek and then rushed to examine her reflection in the toaster oven. “Oh! I had a glycolic peel at the Red Door Spa this afternoon. They told me I might have some discoloration for a few hours, but that my skin would be smooth as a baby’s butt afterward. Wanna feel?” Ashley rushed back over to Cooper’s side and held her face out to be touched.

Curious, Cooper reached out and stroked her sister’s cheek with her index finger. “You’re right. It feels like velvet.”

“I hope Lincoln notices,” Ashley said with a slight frown. “I do all this stuff to make myself pretty for him and half the time he doesn’t even notice.”

“I’m sure he’s very much aware of it when the mailman delivers your credit card bills,” Cooper said caustically.

Ignoring the jibe, Ashley removed the shopping bags and sat down at the table. “Mama told me about the murder.” Her sapphire eyes sparkled. “That must have been
some
first day at church for you! Go on now, give me the dirt.”

“It’s not dirt, Ashley, it’s someone’s life,” Cooper retorted and then softened her tone. “Fine. If you promise to return whatever’s inside those bags.” She pointed at the silver Nordstrom bags. “I can’t afford those clothes no matter how fab they might be.”

“But it was all on sale,” Ashley whined.

Cooper silently got up from the table, removed a bill from a basket on her kitchen counter and handed it to Ashley. “I can’t afford it, Ashley. And this is why.”

Her blue eyes springing open, Ashley glanced from the bill to her sister and back again. “This isn’t small change, Coop! How did this happen?”

“When Drew moved out, I was left about five grand in debt,” Cooper confessed. “During the time we were together, we bought a huge plasma TV, a karaoke machine, a cappuccino maker that required NASA scientists to operate, and a super-hip living room set from Ikea. Drew wanted to start his own home inspection business, so he was saving money for that, and because I really wanted to support him in his dream, most of the day-to-day expenses and all the big-ticket items ended up on my Visa card.”

“I thought you guys split all your bills down the middle.” Ashley was clearly astonished. “Have you asked Drew for money?”

Cooper shook her head. “Drew treated me like a queen. He told me I was beautiful every day . . .” She folded the bill and returned it to the basket, fighting tears. “We laughed all the time, Ashley. We had fun together. I thought we were happy.”

“We did too,” Ashley said. “The whole family was waiting for you to announce your engagement. I never imagined I’d be marching up the aisle before my big sister.”

“I didn’t realize until those last few months we were together, when he started drinking three or four beers a night, that he wasn’t happy anymore. I thought it was work stuff and that he’d sort out what was eating him and we’d move on. Well, he didn’t sort it out. He blew up and Anna Lynne was there to help him pick up the pieces.” Cooper sighed. “I still love him, Ashley. I’ve loved him for over five years. It’s so hard to just . . . stop. And there’s no way I’m asking him for money.”

“I’ll give it to you,” Ashley whispered and took her sister’s hand.

Deeply moved by the offer, Cooper tried not to cry. “That is so sweet, thank you, but this is my mess. I’ll take care of it. And I know you’re going to offer to pay for those Nordstrom clothes too, but I don’t want you to, okay?”

Ashley pretended to sulk. “Suits me, but you’re missing out. I had a really pretty outfit for you to wear to church this week so you could dazzle all the eligible men.”

“I’m not interested in dating right now.” Cooper returned her focus to Brooke’s document
.
“Let’s change the subject. Do you want to hear about my experience at Hope Street?”

Ashley nodded and Cooper got up to brew a pot of coffee. Over several of their mother’s raspberry squares, she filled Ashley in on the death of Brooke Hughes.

When she was done, Ashley gestured at the scraps of paper. “This is what you pulled out of the copier?”

Cooper smirked. “Yep. And it’s really important that I piece it back together.” Staring at the minute progress she had made, she sighed. “So far, the only word I’ve been able to make out is
Hazel.”

“Hazel? What’s that?”

“I’m guessing it’s a woman’s name, but who she is and how she ties into this whole thing is a mystery to me.”

“You’re lucky, Coop. You’re right in the thick of it all.” Ashley folded her manicured hands and rested her lovely chin on top of them. “It’s so exciting!”

Cooper frowned at her sister. “I don’t think Mr. Hughes is feeling excited about what’s happened. If it weren’t for him and the fact that his wife was so nice to me, I’d be watching HGTV with a pile of gardening catalogues on my lap.”

“Look at you, Coop,” Ashley declared. “This is a real, live murder case that you could help solve. I mean, maybe you were
meant
to meet Brooke and these Bible study folks.” She sighed. “You’re lucky to have such an important role to play!”

Cooper watched her sister pout. “Aw, cheer up, Ashley. Maybe someone will meet their Maker by getting wrapped too tight in seaweed during your spa visit.”

Ashley picked up the shopping bags and fluffed her radiant blonde locks. “That
could
happen, you know. But for now I’ll just have to settle for exchanging these clothes for some darling summer sandals. Bye now!” She wiggled her fingers in a lazy wave and then marched out the door. Cooper could hear the
clomp-clomp
of Ashley’s designer heels as her sister made her way downstairs.

Shaking her head, Cooper got back to work. She was determined not to go to sleep until she had something to show her new friends at Hope Street.

5

The morning of Brooke’s funeral arrived and the weather seemed completely incongruous with such a sorrowful event. A bright sun rose in a cloudless sky and the temperature climbed to a pleasant sixty-five degrees by the time dark-clad mourners had gathered around Brooke’s grave.

Cooper spotted the members of the Sunrise Bible Study Group clustered behind a tall man in a gray suit flanked by deputies from the sheriff’s department. Instead of joining them, she took a seat on a memorial bench several yards away.

As the minister spoke, Cooper studied Wesley Hughes. He was thin and balding but still attractive. Tears splotched his distinguished face and he kept his eyes riveted on his wife’s casket. When it was time for him to sprinkle dirt into Brooke’s grave, he fell to his knees, sobbing, and had to be supported by his two guards. A young man in his early twenties with closely cropped hair and broad shoulders embraced Wesley with a desperation that tore at Cooper’s heart. She had to assume that the young man was Wesley’s son, Caleb.

“Poor boy,” she murmured, because even though Caleb wasn’t a little kid, he was still a child who’d just lost his mother.

After the final benediction, the deputies led Wesley toward Cooper’s bench and she realized that their brown cruiser was parked directly in front of her truck. A police officer with a grim face joined the threesome but kept a respectful distance behind Wesley. At one point, Wesley stumbled. Instantly, Caleb surged forward and caught hold of his father’s arm, which he held on to with a desperate possessiveness.

As the group drew closer to the cruiser, one of the deputies reached out for Wesley, but Caleb inserted himself between the guard and his father. His young face was etched with anger and pain, and he balled his hands into fists.

“Why isn’t my dad out on bail?” he shouted to a man in a dark blue suit who’d also detached himself from the mourners to bid Wesley good-bye. When the man didn’t respond, Caleb’s voice grew shriller. “What kind of lawyer are you?”

The solitary police officer turned to Caleb. “Son, we’re doing all we can to look out for your father. Don’t make things harder on him than they already are.”

“He shouldn’t be in jail!” Caleb seethed. “He didn’t do this!”

“I’m Investigator McNamara.” The burly officer handed Caleb a business card. His voice softened as he studied the grief-stricken young man. “You can call me anytime, son, to check up on your dad.”

Caleb stared at his father with such anguish that Cooper almost winced, especially when it became apparent that Wesley Hughes had no solace to offer his son. He looked like an empty shell. His shoulders were slumped and his eyes were glassy and dull. He squeezed Caleb’s hand and then slid into the backseat of the sheriff’s cruiser, looking as vacant and hopeless as a cow being sent to slaughter.

Investigator McNamara clapped a strong arm around Caleb’s shoulders and held it there a moment. “You’ll be all right, son. I know this day seems as dark as they come, but you’ll be all right.”

Caleb wriggled away from McNamara’s touch. “Will you swear to me that you’ll look for the real killer, even though you have my dad in custody? Swear to me that you won’t take the easy route and let an innocent man suffer! That man”—he jabbed his finger toward his father—“loved my mother more than life!”

McNamara never took his eyes off Caleb. “I understand, son. We’ll be thorough. You have my word.”

As Caleb slumped off, McNamara’s and Cooper’s eyes met. He studied her for a moment and she felt the heat of his penetrating stare. Suddenly, she wanted to be alone, so without speaking to any of the Bible study members, she walked off to her truck. As she drove home, the image of Caleb’s pained face swam before her eyes. Once again, her longing for a cigarette almost seduced her into heading to the nearest convenience store.

“I have to help Brooke’s son,” she muttered, shaking off the temptation.

Back at her apartment, Cooper settled down at the kitchen table, picked up her magnifying glass and a scrap of Brooke’s document, and prayed, “Guide my fingers, please.” And then she got to work.

Cooper was so engrossed that she forgot to brew her afternoon coffee or dig around in her parents’ kitchen for a serving of her mother’s cookies. She didn’t think to take Columbus out for a meal or water the plants in her greenhouse. She forgot about everything but the sorrow she’d seen in the eyes of Brooke’s husband and son.