The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (9 page)

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“You’ve got such a long face that I can’t tell if you’re goin’ to church or to a hangin’,” Grammy said the next morning as she and Cooper crossed paths in the backyard. Grammy used a tissue to toss a mouse into Columbus’s cage. Once the hawk had swallowed his breakfast, Grammy blew him a kiss, shuffled through the house, and stood impatiently by the front door. Cooper followed, knowing that Grammy’s balance wasn’t what it used to be and that she might require help on their gravel driveway. Grammy checked her reflection in a cracked compact and then gave her granddaughter the once-over. “What do you have in your hand?”

“My workbook.” Cooper realized that she was unconsciously curling her book into a tube. “I was just reading over my notes again.”

“Listen. There’s no right or wrong answer to these things, girlie.” Grammy hitched up her navy blue knee-highs and licked her finger in order to rub a spot of dirt from her shoe. “This is about bein’
on
a path—not gettin’ to the end of it.”

“I like that,” Cooper said. “You’re pretty smart, Grammy.”

“Used to be, anyway.” Grammy held out her scrawny arm. “How about walkin’ an old lady to your daddy’s car?”

As Cooper guided her grandmother to the backseat of her father’s rusty Oldsmobile, her parents stepped outside and, hand in hand, promenaded toward the car as though they’d just been elected the prom king and queen. Cooper smiled. Few days passed when she didn’t yearn for a love like her parents had. It wasn’t so long ago that she thought she and Drew would be just like her parents. She had even fantasized about what their babies would look like.

Earl and Maggie exchanged morning greetings with their older daughter while Grammy settled herself in the backseat and rummaged around in her canvas purse. Just as Cooper was about to shut the door, Grammy sprayed Cooper’s chest with a liberal dose of powerful perfume.

“That’ll get ya some male attention!” Grammy announced triumphantly.

“Ugh!” Cooper swiped at the beads of scented mist peppering the front of her shirt. “What is this stuff?”

Grammy slammed the door and rolled down her window inch by tedious inch. “I got it at the Dollar Tree. Came in a real nice pink bottle. Let’s go, Earl!” she shouted. “I want a good seat.”

“I smell like a PEZ factory!” Cooper called after the retreating car and then checked her watch. There wasn’t enough time to change her blouse, so she sped to Hope Street Church with both of her Jeep’s windows down, goose bumps blooming on her arms. By the time she reached the classroom where the Sunrise Bible Study met, she could only hope that no one would notice the perfume.

Unfortunately, Jake sniffed the air the second Cooper entered the room. “You wearing perfume?” he asked her. “It’s nice. Smells like cotton candy.”

Savannah inhaled as well, waving her hand in Cooper’s direction. “My, it
is
a sweet scent. Reminds me of those candy necklaces. I loved those things, but after the candy beads were gone, my neck would always be sticky.” She smiled at the memory. “Speaking of eating, dig in, everyone. We have two lessons to cover today, so let’s fill our plates and open our books. I know we’re all eager to talk about our plans to help the Hughes family, but that’ll keep until we’ve talked about Ephesians.”

Quinton gave Cooper a gallant bow and gesticulated at a square table laden with aromatic baked goods, sliced fresh fruit, and a coffee urn. “Grab a plate. Or two. They’re kind of small.” He grinned warmly. “Did you have any trouble finding the workbook?”

Cooper helped herself to a cinnamon roll and five slices of crisp Gala apples. “I had to ask for help,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee into one of several mugs showing Moses parting the Red Sea.

“We all need help sometimes,” Savannah said from her seat. “Speaking of which, would someone be good enough to get me a few pieces of fruit? And I believe my nose is detecting Quinton’s blueberry coffee cake, so I’ll just have to add that to my order, please.”

Jake leapt out of his chair. “I’ll get you a plate, Savannah. Let’s see, you like strawberries and take milk in your cuppa joe but no sugar, right?”

“You have an elephant’s memory, Jake.”

Jake beamed as he cut a mammoth square of coffee cake and took every last strawberry from the fruit bowl before placing Savannah’s plate on the desk in front of her.

Once everyone had gotten refreshments and returned to their seats, Savannah cleared her throat. “This study focuses on the apostle Paul and the letter he writes to the church in Ephesus. Now, Paul was actually Jewish and his name was really Saul, but since he was writing to a Roman audience—to those living in Asia Minor—he adopted the use of a Roman name.”

Pushing a piece of black hair away from her eyes, Savannah’s face creased into a self-effacing smile. “When I first began selling my paintings, and that was some years ago, I decided that I needed a more cosmopolitan name than Savannah Knapp. So I chose Alexandra Van Briggle. Can you believe that?” She chuckled. “I didn’t sell a single painting until I began using my real name. Turns out folks were willing to buy art from a simple Southern gal after all.” She made a sweeping motion with her arm, encompassing the group members. “Have any of you ever changed your name to fit in better?”

“I did,” Nathan said sheepishly. “When I was in college, I told this girl that everybody called me Nate the Great. It was so lame.”

Jake cupped his hands around his coffee cup. “When I was a kid, folks used to call me Jake the Snake. I
really
hated that nickname. When I was in the fifth grade, my family moved to another town. I told everybody in my new school that my name was Jack. You should have seen my mama’s face at the parent-teacher conference. The teacher was going on and on about her son, Jack Lombardi!” He slapped his knee.

Quinton nodded his head in sympathy, the spare flesh on his neck rippling like shallow water in the wind, and told them how he’d grown up with the moniker of Quinton Five Chins.

“That’s terrible,” Savannah said softly. “Kids can be cruel. I think your name is very dignified, Quinton.”

“Downright stately,” Nathan added.

Cooper told Quinton that she knew all the nasty nicknames. “Just think about what my name rhymes with for a moment and then you’ll see what I mean.” She waited for a heartbeat and then the group sniggered.

“Poor you!” Trish cried, but Cooper promised that she didn’t have emotional scars from having been teased as a kid.

“I’ve always liked my name and I try to spread it around as much as possible,” Bryant said. “It’s good for my career to become a household name in Richmond. Gets me more appearances at the car dealerships and stuff. It also helps my campaign to find senior citizens housing.” He straightened his tie in a pretense of importance. “And my mama just loves it when she sees my name on the TV.”

“Well, you all know that I do my best to make sure that
everybody
knows that Trish Tyler is the name to remember when it comes to real estate!” Trish winked and then took a bite of coffee cake.

The group took a short break to refill their plates or their coffee cups. As Cooper sat back down at her student desk with a fresh cup of coffee, she thought about how much she was enjoying herself.

“Last discussion point for today, friends.” Savannah closed her Bible and rubbed its cover affectionately. “Paul mentions the phrase ‘heavenly realms’ several times. What does that mean to you?”

“Here’s my idea of heaven.” Trish ran an acrylic nail down her lacquered hair. “All the chocolate you want with no guilt.”

“I think we’re going to recognize some of the angels we see in heaven,” Bryant said, his white teeth flashing as he spoke. “I bet some of them have lived around us the whole time—down the street, at the next cubicle at the office, serving us cups of coffee, or bagging our groceries.”

“I like that idea,” Nathan said.

Quinton spoke next. “There’s no pain in heaven. And nobody’s ever lonely.”

“I reckon there’s music there too,” Jake said and then cleared his throat. “Like we’ve never heard before. I bet it’s so beautiful that it fills you up inside.”

Savannah picked up her white cane and waved it in front of her. “Paul says that he’ll pray ‘that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened.’ To me, that’s heaven. When you see others with the eyes of your heart.”

“Amen!” Nathan cried and took Savannah’s arm.

The blind woman put her belongings in a leather tote and shouldered the bag. “Trish, can you pass out directions to your house and then let’s all head to worship. They’re playing our song.”

As the music filled the school wing, the Sunrise members sat down together in the auditorium. Cooper was amazed by the number of people in the congregation. Surrounded by at least three hundred men, women, and teens, she was grateful to be sitting with her new friends.

“What’s this?” she asked Quinton as she pointed at the large screens poised above the stage. “A PowerPoint presentation?”

“No.” He laughed. “They post the song lyrics and Scripture passages up there. It helps folks follow along and keeps our eyes from being stuck in a hymnal. This way, our words flow outward and upward, not down into our books.”

The service began when the band onstage ceased their instrumental music and began playing a loud and uplifting contemporary worship song. The lyrics were projected onto the white screens and people lifted their hands into the air or clapped in time to the music. Half of the congregation swayed their hips or shoulders as they sang their hearts out. Cooper had never heard the song before and was too surprised by the rock-concert feel in the chapel to do more than stare.

“Is it always like this?” Cooper interrupted Quinton, who was singing sweetly—sounding more like a young boy than a man in his thirties. Nathan sat right behind Cooper and she couldn’t help but grin over his singing, which was enthusiastic but entirely off-key.

“Hallelujah!” Quinton shouted over the voices. “Isn’t it great?”

Cooper thought about his question for a moment and then realized that the people around her weren’t singing mechanically as they did in some churches, but with a genuine joy she found truly moving.

After three or four songs, the spotlights illuminating the band fell dark and Pastor Matthews stepped forward to greet the congregation. He removed his round silver glasses and then proceeded to clean them on his sweater vest as he made several announcements about church finances and charitable missions. He then welcomed all newcomers and led a prayer for the offering. His sermon, which focused on procrastination, was peppered with several humorous anecdotes, and Cooper felt completely engaged by his words. Though he was likely in his late sixties, he had a youthful exuberance and an openness she found appealing. He made fun of himself, cited several examples from Scripture, and then grew serious as he reminded his flock that they needed to go out into the community and make positive changes without further hesitation.

“Be a light in this world!” he commanded them and then surrendered the stage to the band.

As the final song faded, the congregation filed out to begin their Fellowship Hour in the annex adjacent to the chapel. The Sunrise Bible Study members waved at acquaintances but didn’t pause on the way to their cars. They were all in a hurry to begin their discussion on what they could do to solve Brooke’s murder.

Trish lived in a very posh neighborhood off River Road, not far from Ashley’s sprawling home. Cooper was very familiar with the area, as her father worked at a large private school across the street from Trish’s exclusive development. The school’s parking lots were empty and the swings tilted slightly in the breeze, but Cooper glanced at the carefully tended grounds with pride. Her father was responsible for every building, tree, bush, and blade of grass on the school’s campus, and she knew that he worked extremely hard to keep the place in top form.

Turning south off River Road, Cooper pulled into a circular driveway right behind Quinton, who drove a cream-colored Cadillac. A three-story brick monster, the house had an enormous entry with two sets of thick white columns stretching from the ground to the second floor. Through a giant second-story window set above the front doors, a chandelier the size of Cooper’s kitchen table sparkled through the panes. Meticulously pruned ivy topiaries in heavy cast-iron urns flanked the doors. As she mounted the steps, Cooper wondered if Trish’s life was as perfect as it seemed from the outside. Just then, Trish opened both doors with a flourish.

“Come in!” she trilled.

The group stood in the entranceway for a moment, trying to take in the bold colors, the busy patterns on pillows and window treatments, the heavy wood furniture, and the dozens of framed portraits of Trish and her family. Cooper was surprised to realize that Trish was the mother of two daughters. Trish talked about her business all the time but had never mentioned her children in Cooper’s presence.

Their hostess had just led them into a formal dining room when a pair of small fuzzy dogs burst in and began dancing around Trish’s legs.

“My babies!” Trish covered her dogs’ faces with kisses “These are my darlings, Donald and Ivana.”

Jake stared at the canine pair. “Never seen dogs like that. They mutts?”

“I should say not!” Trish bristled. “These are miniature cockapoos.”

Jake laughed. “Cock-a-whats?”

“A cockapoo is a cross between a poodle and a cocker spaniel,” Trish explained rather haughtily. “They’re the perfect pets because they’re sweet and cute and, most importantly, they don’t shed.”

It was quite obvious that Trish liked things to be orderly and pretty. As Cooper examined the dining room table laden with plates of hors d’oeuvres, a bowl of spinach salad, tea sandwiches, a tomato and mozzarella quiche, and vegetable crudites, she wondered if food was ever prepared in Trish’s pristine kitchen. Taking note of a platter of delicate pastries that were spaced precisely half an inch apart, Cooper was certain that their meal was supposed to resemble a
Southern Living
cover.

“This is quite a spread,” Nathan complimented their hostess as Bryant described the dishes to Savannah.