The Way of the Wicked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 2) (23 page)

Instead of being repelled by Cooper’s caustic demeanor, Emilio inched closer to her. “You don’t need to make up stories to impress me. I already think you’re awesome.”

“That’s nice, Emilio, but I’m not interested. Got it?” Cooper jumped into the van and locked the door. As she pulled away, she caught a glimpse of him in her side mirror. He stood with his feet planted and his arms crossed, his wavy hair blowing in the wind and his dark eyes shining with a predatory gleam. To Cooper, he looked more like a wolf than a man.

• • •

When Cooper approached Lali Gupta’s desk, she was shocked by the woman’s appearance. Lali was a wreck. Her black hair was stringy and dull, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and her wrinkled blouse had been buttoned incorrectly. Even her nails had been chewed into jagged fragments. Cooper wished she could find a way to comfort the unhappy woman, but she knew that only the police could offer Lali the resolution she desperately needed.

Cooper asked the volunteer director how she was holding up, and Lali sighed heavily. “There was a story in Sunday’s paper about the suspicious deaths of our clients. I knew it would come out sooner or later, but the timing is really awful because we just sent out our quarterly requests for funding last week. Two corporate accounts already called this morning to say that they’ll be donating to other causes because they don’t want their names linked to us.”

“That’s awful.”

“If we lose any more benefactors, we’ll have to turn away clients.” Lali rubbed her temples. “I can’t stand the thought of saying no to people who need our services. I don’t even know where we’re going to scrape together the money to pay for our current clients.”

Cooper observed the men and women seated in nearby cubicles. Every one was engaged in a phone conversation, and while Cooper worked on the broken fax machine located in the middle of the row, it became obvious that the Door-2-Door staff was putting every ounce of their energy into garnering donations. Even though their pleas were filled with passion and conviction, most of them hung up their phones without having secured any funds.

Angrily twisting a screw into place, Cooper reflected that the Door-2-Door killer had already stolen the lives of several helpless elderly men and women, but now the villain was also diminishing the chances for other aged Richmonders to receive the meals they desperately needed.

“It’s out of our hands now,” Cooper reminded herself with a whisper.

When her repair on the fax machine was complete, she packed her tools and relocated to a hallway outside the conference room. The copier, a refurbished Canon imageRunner 6000, looked like it hadn’t been serviced since it left the factory. Cooper accessed the interior of the machine and began her analysis of the existing problems. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn’t notice a pair of black boots appear behind her toolbox. She gazed up to see Campbell, his massive arms on his hips and a playful smirk on his face.

“So
you’re
our repairman, eh? A woman wielding tools is a cool thing. It’s easy to forget that our volunteers have lives outside of my kitchen.” He stroked his braided beard. “I won’t be seeing you guys this weekend.” He blinked and the amused glimmer vanished. “Keep an eye on things for me, would you?”

Cooper’s mind raced.
Did Campbell realize that the killer was likely one of his Friday or Saturday volunteers?

“Of course,” she assured him. “Though I can’t quite give off the same vibe of authority as you. Guess I could rent one of those muscle suits, but there’s no chance of me growing a Fu Manchu by Saturday.” She wiped her hands on a rag. “So where are you off to?”

“I need to run out to the beach. There’s this girl there. Aurora. She’s a bartender at one of the hotels on the strip. She rides a Harley, she sings like an angel, and she’s tough as nails.”

“And pretty?”

The light returned to Campbell’s eyes. “The most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth. And I’m going to meet her folks for lunch on Saturday. She wants to take our relationship to the next level, and if this is what I need to do to make her mine for good, then I’ll meet her family, her preacher, her high school teachers, her Girl Scout leader—anybody.”

Cooper wiped ink from her wrench and smiled. “I heard that you’ve liked this woman for a long time but that she didn’t necessarily, um, return your affection. How’d you get her to change her mind?”

“With this.” Campbell turned his back on Cooper and then yanked his tight black T-shirt over his head. A spectrum of colors covering the skin of his back was suddenly revealed. Cooper found herself staring at the biggest tattoo she’d ever seen. It began as blue waves on his lower back—an ocean filled with tropical fish and fingers of coral. Above the curls of white foam in the middle of Campbell’s back, porpoises leapt from the surf. An enormous sunrise, created with dazzling yellows, oranges, and hot pinks, spread from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Striped sunrays radiated outward from the edges of Campbell’s shoulders to the base of his neck. Doves carrying red roses in their beaks flew upward toward the ornate black letters spelling out the name
Aurora.

“Wow,” Cooper breathed.

Campbell pulled his shirt down over the taut muscles of his back and swiveled around. “That’s what Aurora said. She figured I must truly want the real thing with her to do what I did.”

Cooper nodded. “I’d say so! That’s a pretty permanent gesture.”

“She’s all I ever wanted.” Campbell held out his hands as though he meant to grab the handlebars of his bike. “Anita’s filling in for me this weekend, but help her watch over everybody. If I catch the piece of scum that’s been messing with my food, I’m going to think of all-new uses for that walk-in freezer.”

“I’ll do my best,” Cooper promised and then watched as he walked away, his burly figure buoyed by a litheness that could only be attributed to happiness.

He’s not the killer,
she thought.
Like Erik, Campbell is motivated by love instead of money. So who wants money, or to hurt seniors, more than anything else? That’s our murderer.

Before she had the chance to review her mental list of remaining suspects, her phone rang. Swallowing, she saw that the number belonged to a Taylor Rector. She was being summoned.

• • •

Nathan called right after she got off the phone with Investigator Rector and insisted on accompanying her to the police headquarters. Although Cooper argued that it wasn’t necessary, Nathan wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“I was with you, remember? I’m your partner in crime. Literally.”

“You wouldn’t have been there if I’d just kept my big mouth shut. I refuse to let you get in trouble with the cops because you were trying to be a good boyfriend.”

“It took me long enough to be worthy of boyfriend status. I kept putting work before you,” Nathan countered. “Not anymore, Cooper.”

Though pleased by his comment, Cooper couldn’t let Nathan share the blame for her rash behavior. “I’m pulling into the parking lot and I refuse to tell you who I’m here to see. Wait for me out in the lobby. Please, Nathan. Just knowing you’re close will mean the world to me.”

Nathan mumbled something noncommittal and said good-bye.

After checking in at the front, Cooper was escorted through a warren of desks by a stern-faced officer to a wooden door bearing Investigator Rector’s name.

The investigating officer was not what Cooper had expected. He had ruddy cheeks and a freckled nose, giving him a boyish appearance. His hair had roguish curls and his brown eyes, tinged with green, were framed by a sweep of dark eyelashes that most women would kill for. Rector pointed at one of the empty chairs facing his desk, indicating that Cooper should sit while he wrapped up his phone conversation.

Swallowing nervously, Cooper noticed that Aaron Crosby’s diary was encased in an official plastic evidence bag and sat in the center of the policeman’s desk.

“Ms. Lee, I presume?” Investigator Rector said after completing his call.

“Guilty as charged,” Cooper replied and then silently cursed herself for such a poor choice of words.

Rector raised his brows, unamused by her quip. “Breaking into a sealed crime scene is a felony, Ms. Lee. You could be looking at a steep fine.” He held up a thin sheaf of stapled papers. “I checked you out. Fortunately, you’ve got a clean record. Not even a moving violation in the past six months.” He fixed his intense gaze on her. “So what made you decide to tamper with evidence and hinder a police investigation?”

Cooper took a deep breath. “I wasn’t trying to interfere with your case, sir. I paid a visit to Frank Crosby’s son and he told me about the existence of a diary and a sword. Until then, it didn’t seem like there was anything valuable in Mr. Crosby’s house and that he’d been killed for no apparent reason.” She glanced at the diary. “It had been a long time since the Colonel, I mean Edward Crosby, had been inside his daddy’s house. He and Frank didn’t get along and I didn’t want to waste your time unless he was telling the truth about those items, so I decided to search for them myself.”

Rector’s eyes flashed, but his lips curved into the hint of a smile. “You were just watching out for us, is that it? Didn’t want us to waste valuable manpower?”

Cooper’s falsified tale withered under Rector’s scrutiny. “I met Frank Crosby. He was nervous and bitter, and, I’m ashamed to say this, but a little disgusting, too. His house was a mess, his clothes were gross, and he had no one to care for him. The biggest highlight of his day was getting his hands on the neighbor’s newspaper so he could work the puzzles.”

After a pause, Rector said, “Go on.”

“I pitied Frank. I wished for a better life for him.” Cooper stared at her hands. “And I was grateful to him, too, because he made me realize that I had much to be thankful for. With his son in jail, I felt a responsibility to find out what happened to him. I know that might not make sense to you, but when I thought about someone stealing from and . . . poisoning my own grandmother, I just couldn’t sit by and wait. Something inside me—a refusal to accept what was happening— drove me to act.”

“Tell me about the sword,” Rector said, his face unreadable.

“Edward told us that his father kept Aaron Crosby’s sword in his bedroom closet. It was supposed to be in excellent shape and Frank liked to take it out of its scabbard every now and again to clean it. I don’t know specific details about it, but maybe Edward does.”

Rector pivoted in his chair and turned his attention to his computer keyboard. “Let’s see.” His fingers worked rapidly. “According to this auction site, Civil War swords complete with scabbard sell for a range of six hundred to three thousand dollars.”

“That’s it?” Cooper was shocked. “Frank was killed over that amount of money?”

“People have been killed for much less, Ms. Lee. Still, it makes me wonder if money is this guy’s main motive after all.” Rector rubbed his chin. “Our killer is angry with senior citizens for some reason. He wants to get rid of them, but doesn’t have what it takes to do it with his own hands. Therefore he poisons them so they just slip away.”

“He can feel less guilt that way,” Cooper suggested quietly. “As if he’s done them a kindness by relieving them of their sad lives. It’s almost like he hates them, but cares about them, too.”

Studying her again, Rector folded his hands together. “And were you alone when you went to Frank’s? I’m just asking out of curiosity.”

“My boyfriend was with me. I didn’t want him to come but he was worried about my safety. He tried to talk me out of going. He and my friends were in agreement that we should leave everything in the hands of the police, but I wouldn’t listen.”

“Nathan Dexter is another member of the illustrious Sunrise Bible Study, right?”

Stunned at the amount of information the investigator possessed, she nodded.

“Don’t be too impressed.” The officer grinned, shuffling papers around. “I ate lunch with Investigator McNamara today. I’m sure you remember him. He had a lot to say about you.”

McNamara had been the lead investigator in the murder case Cooper and her friends had been involved with during the spring of that year. The officer had treated them with courtesy but had also sternly ordered them to cease their sleuthing.

“There’s something else I should tell you.” Cooper inhaled and then hastily described the message left on her truck.

The policeman jerked in his chair, his eyes alert and excited. “The killer was following you? We might be able to use this.” He twiddled his thumbs as he thought. After a few moments, he seemed to remember that Cooper was in the room. “All right, Ms. Lee, you’re free to go. I wanted to learn if you’d found anything that might prove useful to us and it seems that you have.” He got to his feet and came around to the front of his desk. “I may call on you to do something for me in the immediate future—to help bait our suspect into revealing his identity. Would you be up to that?”

Cooper exhaled in relief. Standing, she grasped the investigator’s outstretched hand and pumped it heartily. “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

“I’d also like your word that you and your friends are officially off the case,” he added sternly. “Should some piece of useful information come your way, you are to contact me directly. Otherwise, the Sunrise Sleuths are officially retired. Is that clear?”

“Yes.”

Rector raised his left brow. “I’m sure, being that you’re a faithful churchgoer, that I can take you at your word. Have a nice day.”

Cooper walked down the hallway with a much lighter step and then burst through the lobby doors.

Seeing Nathan pacing near a row of plastic chairs, Cooper swiftly closed the distance between them. When he saw her approaching, he moved forward to meet her. “It’s okay!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. “We had a nice, civilized discussion and he let me go with a warning.”

Nathan lifted her from the ground in celebration, and the movement dislodged her purse from her shoulder. Its contents spread across the marble floor in a noisy clatter.