The Way of the Wicked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 2) (11 page)

Cooper nodded. “It looks that way, yes.”

“Lord in heaven! What is this world comin’ to?” Her lips pinched in fury, Brenda gunned the engine. “If there’s somethin’ I can do to help, you just name it. I’m not gonna stand for folks givin’ our program a bad name. I’m mild as a kitten most days, but I got claws and a big strong body, and I’ll use them both if I find out that someone I know is dopin’ up old folks just so’s they can rob them blind.”

“Doping them?” Cooper repeated. “That would explain why Mr. Crosby lost a day. But how would someone drug the clients?”

Brenda clucked her tongue. “Are you listenin’ to yourself, girl?
We’re
the ones packin’ and bringin’ them their food. Now, I ain’t no rocket scientist, but I can put two and two together and figure out how easy it would be to stir a little somethin’ into the mashed potatoes.”

Cooper nodded. As horrible as the idea was, it made sense. “I need to figure out what that something is, but my experience with drugs doesn’t go much beyond Tylenol and Robitussin.”

“Go see Mr. Crosby’s son, then,” Brenda suggested as she merged into the next lane without using her signal. “That’s why the boy’s in jail. Probably knows more about drugs than anybody in Richmond. Just wasn’t smart enough to figure out he was sellin’ heroin to an undercover cop.”

“Jail?” Cooper swallowed hard. She tried to envision herself sitting across from a convicted drug dealer in an attempt to elicit information from him.

“But if you’re gonna go, you’d better take somebody along for the ride,” Brenda advised. “And you’d better pick wisely. Those prison boys don’t see many women and the Crosby boy might wanna talk to you about things you don’t wanna talk about. You hear what I’m sayin’? Take someone with you.”

“I hear you,” Cooper said.

Glancing out the window, she watched house after house pass by and thought,
Do I really have it in me to sit across from a man in an orange jumpsuit?

As they drove on, Cooper no longer noticed the scenery. Her mind was filled with Mr. Crosby’s anguished face. And when Brenda switched on the radio, Cooper didn’t pay attention to the music. She could only hear an old man weeping as if his heart had just been broken.

8

Brenda dropped Cooper off at Door-2-Door’s side entrance and then sped away to attend a fall festival at her church. After replacing the black cooler beneath one of the lengthy stainless steel counters in the kitchen, Cooper located her friends. All six of them were contentedly snacking on ham and cheese biscuits and cookies in the volunteer lounge.

“How’d it go?” Jake asked. “You look a bit green around the gills.”

“Not green. Pink.” Trish eyed Cooper’s flushed neck and handed her a cup of water. “Maybe you’re dehydrated. You got back later than everyone else, too. Did you and Brenda have a really long route?”

Cooper accepted the water and looked around the lounge. The other volunteers had left for the day with the exception of Eugene. He was sprawled out on two folding chairs in the back of the room munching on a biscuit. An empty chair in the adjacent row served as a table for his can of Pepsi and a paper napkin piled high with chocolate-chip cookies. A comic book was open on his lap and the young man laughed heartily as he ate and read.

“I think one of the clients on my route was drugged,” Cooper said in a low voice. “A man named Mr. Crosby.”

“I’ve heard about him,” Trish said dismissively. “Isn’t he a little batty?”

“Maybe a little bit,” Cooper had to admit. “But I’m not talking about how he acted. When we first saw him, we actually thought he was dead. He’d been sitting in the same chair for twenty-four hours and he was still sitting there when Brenda and I entered his house. The poor man has no memory of what happened to him.”

Quinton helped himself to a handful of cookies and offered one to Cooper. “Lots of older folks have memory issues. Mr. Crosby probably just forgot to go to bed and fell asleep in his chair. Why do you think he was drugged?”

Cooper lowered her voice to a whisper even though Eugene was clearly absorbed in his comics. “You think it’s normal for someone to sleep for twenty-four hours? No.” She shook her head. “Not only that, but he was really upset about something that was taken from his house. I don’t know what it was and he wasn’t really making sense by the end of our visit. He kept repeating how his secret had been stolen.”

Holding up a finger to stop Trish from interrupting, Cooper continued, “It’s clear that Mr. Crosby is wired differently than the rest of us, but he was thinking straight enough to be bothered that he had lost a whole day
and
that someone took an object from his bedroom.” She broke her cookie in half and stared at the crumbs on her lap. “Brenda’s delivered to this man before and she says he’s never had problems with his memory. And I’m no doctor, but Mr. Crosby just acted, you know, doped.”

“I trust your instincts,” Nathan said loyally. “How did Brenda react?”

“She was amazing,” Cooper replied. “She revived Mr. Crosby by tossing water in his face, changed his clothes, got his lunch ready, and tidied up the house within fifteen minutes. Thank the Lord she was there.”

“I’m glad you weren’t alone,” Savannah said.

“Brenda’s the one who suggested Mr. Crosby had been drugged. She was fighting mad about the notion,” Cooper added.

“So Brenda’s probably innocent, unless she’s a great actor,” Bryant said.

“I think we need to have a chat with Lali.” Jake folded his strong arms over his chest. “We need to have all the facts if we’re going to be of any help to these folks.” He tossed a napkin into a garbage can several feet away. “Time to storm the castle, folks. Who’s with me?”

• • •

When Anita heard about the impromptu meeting between Lali and the Sunrise Bible Study members, she insisted on being included. Cooper began by telling Lali about her delivery to Mr. Crosby and her concern that his physical condition was related to the thefts, and possibly the deaths, that had occurred with other Door-2-Door clients over the past few months. Of course, she also had to confess that she had inadvertently eavesdropped on two of Lali’s conversations.

“I’m not concerned that you overheard us talking about the thefts,” Lali said, letting Cooper off the hook gracefully. “I’m concerned about Mr. Crosby. You say that the last thing he remembers is being visited by one of our volunteers?” Lali’s dark eyes were liquid with worry.

“He remembers working a crossword in the newspaper while waiting for his lunch to be delivered,” Cooper replied. “He doesn’t actually recall eating lunch, but an empty tray was in his garbage can.”

“Maybe we should get a hold of that tray,” Savannah suggested. “If something was mixed in his food . . .”

“I just can’t believe it!” Lali exclaimed. She then smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt, as though gathering strength to face the truth. “Okay. This is what’s going to happen. Anita and I will contact one of our nurse practitioner volunteers and the three of us will visit Mr. Crosby this afternoon. If the medical professional believes Mr. Crosby was drugged, my next step will be to contact the police. I’m sure they’ll know how to proceed.”

Jake, who restlessly drummed his fingers on the conference table, suddenly shoved his wheeled chair backward. “This whole thing should be easy enough to deal with, ladies. Just find out who delivered Mr. Crosby’s food yesterday and you’ve got your man.”

Lali shook her head. “We can’t accuse one of the volunteers without proof. Besides,” her voice grew heavy, “the volunteer sign-up sheet from yesterday is gone. Someone took it or threw it away.” She was clearly disturbed about the missing document. “The bottom line is that it never got filed, so short of asking everyone who volunteers here, I have no record of who drove where.” She sighed. “The Saturday crew is fairly regular, but the weekday volunteers change all the time.”

“That’s the truth,” Anita said. “We’d be on the phone all day asking folks, and if someone was guilty, they wouldn’t tell us the truth anyhow.”

“All I can do is review every detail with the police and allow them to conduct their investigation as they see fit. I’m sorry you’ve all been exposed to this.” She gestured at a handful of manila folders.

Anita rose and placed a protective hand on Lali’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming to talk to us, but please don’t repeat details about the missing items or Mr. Crosby’s state of health to
anyone.
All of our clients will suffer if we lose volunteers or if funding dries up because of harmful gossip. We hope to see you again next weekend.”

Her tone made it clear that the meeting was over, but as soon as the group stepped outside, Trish gestured for everyone to gather around her car.

“We’re not going to spread rumors about what’s happening here, but I don’t think we should just drop the subject, either,” she said.

“Let’s give the police the benefit of the doubt,” Savannah countered gently. “If there’s evidence of misconduct, they’ll find it.”

“And if Lali still thinks the clients might be at risk, we could implement Plan B,” Nathan suggested.

“What’s that?” Jake asked.

“We could host a potluck,” Cooper said. “A casual party would allow us to get to know the volunteers working on Fridays and Saturdays better.”

“Excellent idea! I’ll call around and see where we can rent a space for our social event,” Trish offered. “Just in case we need to throw this thing together at the last minute, I’m thinking one of the community centers would do nicely. After all”—she grimaced—“I don’t want a thief and potential murderer running around inside
my
house. See you in church tomorrow.”

As the friends dispersed, Nathan walked Cooper to her truck and opened her door with a smile. “So how are those kittens we saved?”

“Grammy found homes for them right away.” Cooper avoided meeting his eyes, still terribly embarrassed over how their date had ended. “A little girl down the road had to put her cat to sleep last month and she was feeling sad and lonely, so the timing couldn’t have been better. Of course, I don’t know if the cats are going to be happy about being called Princess Furrball and Prince Fuzzypants.”

Nathan laughed. “You’re always full of surprises! I’ll see you in the morning.”

Cooper waved good-bye and then drove home in a funk. She knew Nathan was busy preparing the Big Man site for its upcoming launch, but she’d wanted to exchange a tender moment with him, no matter how brief. She didn’t want to go back to being friends. She wanted him to look at her as he had before they’d been interrupted by the appearance of the stray cats.

Guess this gives me time to buy another bra,
Cooper thought wryly.
And this time, I’m getting the plain cotton kind from Target. I can live without enhancing my curves if it means I won’t end up with a soaked dress and the world’s worst ending to what had been the perfect date.

• • •

“So how’d your date go?” Ashley whispered as she and Cooper set the table for Sunday supper.

“Fine,” Cooper mumbled and then gestured toward the hall. “Can we not talk about that right now?”

“Talk about what?” Grammy demanded as she shuffled into the kitchen. “Somethin’ juicy?” She pointed at Ashley’s flat stomach. “Like baby-makin’? You’re not on one of those crazy diets again, are you? A woman can’t fill her womb eatin’ celery and rice cakes. Trust me on that one.”

Ashley developed a sudden interest in folding the paper napkins into fan designs.

“I bet you’re readin’ too many books.” Grammy sank into a chair and immediately unfolded the napkin fan. “You can’t be scientific about this kind of thing. Say a prayer, pour yourselves some wine, and celebrate bein’ young and in love. That’s how you make a baby. It’s right simple.”

“It’s supposed to take couples an average of six months to conceive,” Ashley informed Grammy.

Grammy pointed at the wall calendar hanging near the kitchen phone. “Well, when did you start?”

Taking a hesitant step toward the calendar, which the Lees received every year at Christmastime from their State Farm agent, Ashley reached her hand toward the month of October and then froze. Bowing her head, she seemed to be fighting to gain control over her emotions, and when it seemed as though she was on the verge of tears, she pivoted and walked briskly through the kitchen and out the back door. She didn’t bother to close the door behind her and a crisp wind bearing the scent of burning leaves mingled with the aroma of the mustard-and-sage-covered ham baking in the oven.

“Grammy,” Cooper admonished as she held on to the open door. “Ease up on the baby stuff, okay? Nobody wants to have a child more than Ashley, and since she’s used to getting exactly what she wants, this wait is awful hard on her.”

Unperturbed, Grammy reached for the classified section of the
Times-Dispatch.
“I’m just tryin’ to shake somethin’ loose in that girl. She holds everythin’ inside. It ain’t good for her. Think about it, Granddaughter. When’s the last time you saw her cry or get mad or shout at anybody? I wanna peek under that mask of hers—see how she’s really doin’.”

“I’ll talk to her. I think that’s a better way of finding out what’s going on.” Cooper stared at her grandmother in hopes she would get the point.

“Suit yourself,” Grammy replied and then yelled, “Maggie! I think your ham’s about done!” She then hid herself behind the newspaper and didn’t so much as rustle a page until her elder grandchild stepped outside.

Saffron-edged leaves crunched beneath Cooper’s tennis shoes as she crossed the patio toward the cluster of spent rudbeckia bordering Earl’s vegetable garden. Ashley sat on a stone stool, examining one of the golden cone-shaped heads, her elegant fingers tracing the serrated edges of the leaves just below the crown of flower petals. When Cooper drew near, Ashley turned her face toward the woods, but not quickly enough to disguise the tears on her cheeks.

Saying nothing, Cooper squatted next to her sister and put an arm around her waist. They stayed like that for several minutes as a woodpecker hammered into the birch tree bordering the patio.