The Graves of the Guilty (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 3) (11 page)

“Maybe he was afraid to,” Cooper suggested and then jumped as she heard the sound of footsteps in the hall. Expecting Phil, Trish hustled to the sofa and slumped against the cushions.

The footsteps halted at the door and someone knocked tentatively.

Cooper’s heart began drumming loudly, but she opened the door to find an attractive Asian woman in her early twenties on the other side.

“Oh!” she squeaked. “I’m sorry! I heard people in here and wondered . . .” She leaned to the left in order to peer around Cooper. Spying Trish, she apologized again, yet was too curious to leave. “Are you Miguel’s friends?”

Cooper decided a vague answer was best. “We’re visitors.”

Confused, the young woman glanced at Trish again. “Are you with the police? They interviewed me last week. Miguel liked to play his music too loud sometimes, but other than that, I hardly knew when he was home.” She sounded regretful. “I tried to get to know him. He liked to go clubbing, so I invited him out with me and my friends, but he never came.” She pushed a wave of glossy black hair back from her face and studied Cooper’s mismatched eyes. “I’m Lisa.”

“Please come in,” Trish hailed her from the sofa. “I’m Trish Tyler. I’m a Realtor. This is Delilah, my client.”

Lisa tiptoed into the apartment. “They’re already leasing this apartment? What are they going to do with all his stuff? Once, when I was opening Christmas cards by the mailboxes, I asked Miguel if he’d gotten any, but he said he had no family. Isn’t that sad?” Her eyes grew wistful. “He was really sweet. I had a crush on him, big-time, but he wasn’t interested.”

“His loss, I’d say.” Trish gave the girl’s arm a maternal pat. “What happened to Miguel?”

“You don’t know?” Lisa’s jaw dropped. “He died. No one knows how. The police were here for hours. They even had those
drug
dogs, like you see at the airport.” She seemed pleased to have a captivated audience. “I heard one cop tell another cop that the place was clean, but I could have told them that. Miguel was no drug dealer! He was polite and shy. And he never had anyone over, either, so if he was selling drugs, he must have been doing it somewhere else.”

Cooper looked around at the pin-neat living room. “I’m surprised the cops left this place so neat.”

“I straightened up,” Lisa admitted. “They let me. I told them I just wanted to do something for Miguel. I know that sounds dumb since he wasn’t ever coming back here.”

Touched by the young woman’s gesture, Cooper smiled at Lisa. “That was very thoughtful of you.” Then, a thought occurred to her. “Does this unit come with a garage?”

Lisa shrugged. “Got me. Miguel drove some clunker he bought from Love’s. I wouldn’t bother renting a garage for that car.”

Cooper suspected Lisa had spent a good deal of time observing Miguel’s movements.

“This whole thing must have been quite a shock for you.” Trish gazed at the girl sympathetically and they chatted for a few more minutes, but Lisa didn’t seem to know anything more about her neighbor than she’d already told them. Casting a longing look around the room, she eventually returned to her own apartment.

A few moments after Lisa left, Phil returned with a small tin can of orange juice. It was the kind stocked in hotel minibars and Cooper wondered where on earth he’d found it. She thought she caught a whiff of vodka as he reached over to hand Trish the juice. It seemed that Phil treated himself to a screwdriver now and then in the privacy of his office.

Again, she felt guilty for deceiving him. “I like this complex, Phil. This unit feels sad to me, though. I feel a sense of loss here.”

“Wow, you’re good.” Phil was clearly astonished.

Trish rose from the sofa on wobbly legs. “Does this unit come with a garage?”

“We have several garages available at the moment,” was Phil’s cryptic answer.

“Well, we’re sure there are plenty of suitable apartments for Delilah’s employees, even if she hasn’t found the perfect one today.” Trish wiped the can lid with a tissue and took a small sip of its contents. “I’d like to take a few brochures along with me, Phil. You’ve been so kind. An angel, really.”

Phil beamed.

Back in the Mercedes, Trish and Cooper reviewed their findings.

They’d walked back past Miguel’s parking space and had noted his aged Chevy Cavalier. The car’s exterior was dented and scratched in several places and the interior appeared to be empty.

“Time to pass the buck to Quinton, I’d say. I’m sure the police went over Miguel’s car carefully, so that’s of no help,” Cooper said. “We need to get a financial picture now. Even though Quinton will be researching a person that doesn’t officially exist.”

“Well, Miguel’s false identity enjoys watching TV, playing video games, singing karaoke, and looking at naked women,” Trish said with a sigh. The two women watched as Phil moved about inside his office. “I feel kind of rotten about putting on that act for Phil Burgess. The guy’s just trying to do his job. To make it up to him, I’m going to go out of my way to send him clients.” Her mouth formed a small smile. “Even if the Inner Eye isn’t one of them.”

7

Cooper’s next step was to deliver Miguel’s personnel file to Quinton. After completing her last repair job of the day, she drove to Wawa to fill up her truck and buy a hazelnut decaf. While her truck gulped down over seventy dollars in gas, Cooper called Quinton at home to see when he’d be free.

 “Let’s have breakfast at Boychick’s tomorrow,” he suggested cheerfully. “I’d love to start the day with eggs and bacon.”

“A pound of Japanese food today and a pile of pancakes tomorrow?” Cooper laughed. “I’d better go on a mighty long run after work this afternoon. See you at Boychick’s.”

Taking note of the line of drivers waiting for an available pump, Cooper moved her truck to the only available parking spot at the rear of the convenience store. As she paused to toss yesterday’s newspaper into the garbage bin, she noticed a familiar figure jump down from the passenger seat of a RoomStore furniture truck.

Their eyes met and then Edward Crosby smiled and strode over to where she stood.

“You following me?” he asked with a saucy grin.

Cooper looked over his khaki pants and blue long-sleeved polo bearing the RoomStore logo.

He pointed at the embroidered letters on his chest. “Do I look better in this than in the last uniform you saw me wearing?”

Remembering the beige scrubs he’d worn in jail, she nodded. “Blue suits you. How do you like the job?”

Edward shrugged. “The money’s crap compared to what I made before. I could earn my whole paycheck in a single day without moving a muscle. Now I have to carry entertainment centers up three flights of steps while some woman warns me not to get her carpet dirty.” He shrugged. “But I have got another job I like better.” Without elaborating further, he gestured at the store entrance. “If you’re going in to buy something, let’s go. This man needs a coffee and I have to be back at the store in thirty.”

Inside, Cooper poured coffee into the largest cup Wawa sold. As she fitted on a lid, Edward leaned over and whispered, “What happened with that dude? The one in your sister’s crib?”

Cooper avoided looking into Edward’s shimmering gray eyes as she passed him the coffee. “No one knows. Or at least
I
don’t. Neither Ashley nor her husband have received an update from the police.”

“Pfft!” Edward blew away a curl of steam escaping through a hole in his cup lid. “The men in blue don’t report to civilians. Shoot, girl. They forgot about you before the sun came up the next day.” He shook his head in disdain. “Probably stuffed that Mexican boy’s file into a drawer and moved on to bigger and better cases. Things are going down in my part of town and the media is watching. That’s what’s important. You following what I’m saying?”

“They’re all important!” Cooper retorted heatedly.

Edward stared at her. “Whatcha gonna do with that anger, girl? Let it go to waste? Or are you gonna use it? Change the world with it?”

Cramming a lid onto her own cup, Cooper shot back, “I’m doing something, don’t you worry!”

“Glad to hear it.” Edward’s hard look instantly softened as they got in the checkout line. “That’s what makes you different. You felt that kind of anger on behalf of my daddy. When he died, nobody gave a damn, but you wouldn’t let it go.” He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. “Because of what you did—the way you fought for justice—I’ve got your back until the day I die. I owe you, and a Crosby never forgets his debts.”

Cooper didn’t know what to say. She dropped her eyes and murmured her thanks.

“What was the Mexican boy’s name?” Edward inquired as he picked up a package of Hostess CupCakes. “I could ask around—see if he was in my old line of work.”

“This is a fake name, but it’s what he went by.” After scribbling Miguel’s full name on a napkin, Cooper passed it over to Edward. “Shouldn’t you avoid those places?” she asked carefully. “What if . . . you get drawn back in?”

“Nice to know you care.” Edward returned the napkin. “Put your digits on here, too. In case I dig up anything in my spare time.”

Cooper added her cell phone number and then held out the napkin. Edward’s hand shot out and closed around hers. He pulled her toward him. “Of all the people in this town,” he whispered into her hair, “I need you to believe I have the power to change. Understand?”

Once again, Cooper felt like she could melt into Edward’s chest. She wanted to linger in the moment, his breath stirring her hair, his hands capturing hers in a warm, strong grip. “I believe in you, Edward,” she whispered back.

“Now
that’s
worth the price of coffee.” Edward laughed and handed money to the cashier. “And maybe one of my cupcakes.” He paused, as though debating the issue. “Nah. I’m keeping them both. I need the sugar rush.”

He walked Cooper to her truck and held open her driver’s-side door. “Be careful poking under rocks, girl. You never know what slimy bug is hiding underneath. I can’t watch you all the time.”

“Watch me?” Cooper’s heartbeat accelerated wildly. “What do you mean?”

“Like I said. I got your back.” Edward winked and slammed her door shut. Without looking at her again, he jogged across the parking lot and climbed into the delivery truck’s cab. The truck reversed to the accompaniment of high-pitched beeping and, after issuing a burst of noxious gray smoke, merged into one of the westbound lanes.

• • •

At home, Cooper took an hour-long jog along the serene country road leading from the Lee house to the hamlet of Gum Creek. It was a cold run, but it helped her settle down. Afterward, she enjoyed a deliciously hot shower before changing into jeans and a warm sweater. In the kitchen, she beat eggs, vegetables, and cheese in a bowl and then poured the mixture in a prebaked pie shell.

Nathan arrived just as the oven’s timer went off. “Something smells good, though it doesn’t seem possible that I could ever be hungry again after the lunch I had.” Nathan washed his hands and began to chop the two tomatoes positioned on the cutting board. “My client and I split fried okra and a platter of barbequed ribs. After that, I
still
managed to eat peanut butter pie.”

Pulling the asparagus and Swiss cheese quiche from the oven, Cooper smiled. “You’ll get your fill of vegetables tonight. The menu is quiche and tossed salad. And all I have for dessert is a box of Junior Mints.”

“The perfect movie snack.”

Nathan placed the salad bowl in the center of Cooper’s table and poured the wine. Over dinner, Cooper described the state of Miguel’s apartment.

“Stacks of cash? Just sitting in a drawer?” Nathan was immediately intrigued. “Maybe Miguel’s illegal status made him think it was safer to keep his money at home instead of a bank. A savings account means more paperwork.”

“But he must have written checks,” Cooper argued. “How else would he pay his bills?”

“With a credit card. He could charge his rent, his utility bills, food, gas, and anything else to the credit card and then send them a cashier’s check each month to cover the minimum payment.” Nathan helped himself to a large wedge of quiche. “This looks fantastic.”

Cooper cut a smaller slice and lifted it toward her plate, leaving a trail of melted Swiss on the tabletop. “I hope Quinton comes up with a major lead. If he doesn’t, you and I will have to visit Miguel’s favorite karaoke clubs this weekend in hopes of finding someone who knew him.”

Nathan twirled a length of cheese around on his fork. “Um, I might have to drive back to Arlington this weekend. Rob could use a hand painting his basement, so I’ll probably go up Friday afternoon.”

Rob was Nathan’s college roommate, and though Cooper knew he was a close friend, she was surprised that Nathan planned on spending two weekends in a row in Arlington. Cooper envisioned another Saturday night without her boyfriend and frowned.

How can Nathan think that helping his friend paint is more important than helping me investigate Miguel’s murder?
she thought crossly.
If I have to visit Miguel’s haunts without a date, so be it.

Aloud, she said, “I’ll be thinking of you while sampling neon-colored drinks and listening to people sing ‘I Will Survive’ and ‘Summer Nights’ over and over.”

“‘Summer Nights’? The song from
Grease
? I hope the songs are more contemporary than that!” Nathan laughed. “Better bring some earplugs. If those folks sing like Rob or . . .” He trailed off and shoved another bite of quiche into his mouth.

Cooper was disappointed and more than a little miffed that Nathan seemed perfectly fine with the idea of her hanging out in a bar and questioning a bunch of strangers while he painted his friend’s basement walls. Growing grumpier by the minute, she cleaned up the dinner plates in relative silence and then dumped the Junior Mints into a bowl.

The couple got comfortable on the couch and, after quickly devouring the chocolate-covered mints, watched a lackluster comedy in which a jilted wife exacted revenge upon her husband and his girlfriend. Cooper was relieved when the end credits appeared on-screen.