The Root of All Evil (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 4) (14 page)

Everyone laughed. The espresso machine hissed and sputtered, signaling it was finished with the brew cycle. Quinton placed the little white cup on a matching saucer and handed both to Cooper.

She offered him a deeply grateful smile. “I owe you.”

“Just bring some of your mama’s cookies next week and we’ll call it even.”

“Deal.” Cooper took her espresso and éclair and sat down in the circle. For a few minutes, everyone chatted, talking mostly about the previous night’s memorial—or celebration. Cooper nodded at the comments and laughed at the jokes, which mostly concerned the amount of caffeine each of them ingested.

Just as she’d taken the last bite of her éclair, her eye was drawn by a movement in the hallway. Edward Crosby stood just outside the door, clad in his usual jeans and leather jacket. He waved at her with one hand and balanced a laptop in the other. He said nothing to alert the others of his presence, but only waved at Cooper, his gaze fixed on her.

Cooper considered replying with a loud “Hello” so that he’d have to come in, instead of playing whatever game he had in mind. But instead, she smiled politely to the circle and excused herself to the hallway.

“I’ve got it!” Edward announced in quiet jubilation. “I’ve got the video.”

Cooper grabbed his arm and pulled him around the corner. “The surveillance footage? How? Please tell me you didn’t steal it from the cops. No, wait, don’t tell me anything! I want to have plausible deniability.”

“I didn’t steal anything. Have a little faith, will ya?”

“So says the man accusing a little old grandma of being a thief and murderer.”

“I don’t think she’s a murderer. Just a thief.” Edward pushed a few keys on the laptop’s keyboard. “And like I said, the footage uploaded to the church server, and your pastor let me check out the server.”

“Did he realize why you wanted to ‘check out’ the server?”

“I told him I wanted to view the surveillance footage to see if I noticed anything helpful—which is the truth.” He turned the screen so Cooper could see it and pressed play.

Cooper watched the still scene at the back of the church. Over the door shone a yellow light, which illuminated part of the building, along with the sidewalk from the parking lot. The time code in the lower right-hand corner said “0200”—2:00 a.m.

“Okay, what am I looking it?” Cooper asked, crossing her arms, suddenly uncomfortable. Now she understood what her sister and Pastor Matthews had meant about people feeling spied on in church. She felt as though she were intruding on someone’s privacy, and all she was seeing was the church’s back door.

Edward hesitated, and then replied, “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Cooper continued to watch, waiting for the damning evidence of Ms. Donna’s guilt. For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then a dark figure appeared in the corner of the screen, making its way toward the door. The person had a large black bag slung over a shoulder and a blue ski mask over his—or her—face. All the skin, save for the eyes, was covered: long sleeves, gloves, hiking boots. Whoever it was went to the door, pulled a screwdriver from the bag and proceeded to break in.

Edward paused the video, a triumphant smile on his face. “Did you see?”

“I saw an anonymous, masked individual break into the church, yeah.”

Edward sighed and rewound the tape. “Watch closer.”

“This would probably go faster if you just told me whatever it is I’m missing.”

“Just watch.” He played the video again, and this time Cooper concentrated on the stranger in the video. Tool bag, dark clothes, blue mask. Then she saw it.

“Wait,” she said. “Rewind it again.”

Edward did as she asked, and Cooper studied the footage one more time. The intruder didn’t just walk to the door. She limped, favoring her right leg, and her shoulders were bent in a slight hunch. It was then Cooper noticed the intruder’s height and shape—the same as Ms. Donna’s.

Cooper staggered back a step and leaned against the wall. Could it be that sweet Ms. Donna was a thief? A criminal? Could it be that Edward was right and their new friend was simply sizing them up?

“Why would she . . .” Cooper began slowly. “That is,
if
it’s her, why would she stay? Why would she still be here?”

“Because she’s a con first. A thief just breaks in and steals. A con cozies up to folks, gains their trust and then takes. A good con keeps up the act even after the theft is done.”

“To avoid suspicion?”

Edward nodded. “And so they can steal some more later, if they want.”

Cooper turned, stepped quietly around the corner and peered into the science room. Ms. Donna had set her purse in a chair beside Savannah and was headed to the snack table for a piece of Quinton’s angel food cake.

Same limp, same hunch, same height
, Cooper thought.
It is her.

But as certain as her brain was, Cooper’s heart was still unsure. She began to pace in the hallway.

Edward followed her, the laptop still open. “Well?”

“Well what? I bet a million people have that same limp.”

“You’re probably right. But that limp, with that stoop, her height, her knowledge about the inside of the church, who’s here, what you’ve got . . . and if you were really paying attention, you saw the orthopedic shoes.”

“I missed those.” Cooper sighed, shaking her head. “But is it really enough proof? More importantly, what do we do now?”

Edward shrugged. “I say you turn her in to the cops.”

“Who are we turning in to the cops?” Nathan rounded the corner, Bible in hand and a spring in his step. At least
he
was still having a good morning.

Cooper greeted him with a big hug. She needed someone to lean on right now. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

“So am I,” he replied with a smile, holding her tightly. “What’s up?”

Cooper looked to Edward. “You’d better show him.”

Nathan had to watch the video four times before he saw it. His expression went from skeptical to pained. So much for having a good morning. “Oh. Wow. Seriously?”

“Seriously,” Cooper said.

“So are you turning her in? Is that the conversation I walked in on before?”

Cooper drew in a deep breath. “We can’t turn her in. Not yet, anyway. What we have here is some compelling evidence, but like I said, I’m not sure it’s enough proof. I can’t abide the idea of turning her over to the police without having something more concrete.”

“You want a confession.”

“If at all possible.”

Edward laughed. “Somebody like her won’t confess her crimes. She’s too good at what she does.”

Cooper thought for a moment. “Edward, you said something earlier . . . You said you thought she was guilty of theft, but not murder. Why?”

“She’s a con artist, not a killer. Murdering somebody would mess up her whole plan, and it’s a carefully laid plan. My guess is, she and the killer happened to be here on the same night. Pastor Matthews told me a stereo was missing from the music room, but it was found out back. Nothing was actually stolen from the church. Her plan was interrupted.”

“Maybe she saw something.”

“Maybe. That would explain why she didn’t finish her job. What does that have to do with anything?”

Nathan raised a hand. Being in a school was getting to him. “I have a question for you, Edward. Why are you so hell-bent on proving Ms. Donna’s guilt?”

Edward looked at him thoughtfully and nodded appreciatively. “That’s a fair question. I turned my life around. I did the time, and the old me is gone. I can’t be associated with criminals. I won’t let her come in and screw up everything I’ve worked for. That’s why I’m hell-bent on proving Ms. Donna’s guilt. Now, Coop, your turn to answer my question.”

“What do I care if Ms. Donna saw something?” Cooper asked. “Well, the obvious reason is that if Ms. Donna saw the killer, she can help catch the killer. But as you so eloquently put it, Edward, she won’t confess her crimes . . . unless we can make her think she’s being accused of a worse crime. As far as we know, the police are looking for one suspect—a thief and killer. They don’t suspect that two different people just
happened
to break into Hope Street at the same time. If I confront Ms. Donna and make it clear she’ll be accused not only of robbery but of murder as well, she may be more willing to help us out.”

Edward grinned deviously. “So you’ll con the con artist. I like it.”

“I’m not really conning her. If the police had compelling evidence of her guilt in the robbery, they would assume she’s guilty of all the crimes.”

Nathan took hold of Cooper’s hand. “Just to be clear, your plan is to confront our dear criminal.”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“I think that’d be best. I’ll try to put her at her ease.”

“Even though it’s possible she did kill Sylvia Cassel?”

Cooper paused. It hadn’t occurred to her that Ms. Donna really could be guilty. She’d been relying on Edward’s gut feeling, not thinking through the situation on her own. “I’ll be careful,” she finally replied. “Don’t worry.”

Nathan slipped his hand up around her waist. “Coop, I understand you’ll be careful, but how
exactly
are you going to talk to her about it? ‘Hey, my friends think you may be the church thief. Is that true?’”

“Well, I won’t say
that,”
Cooper assured him. “I’ll think of something.”

And all through Bible study, Cooper tried to think of something. She didn’t hear the discussion, and she didn’t follow along in her workbook. She paid just enough attention to know when to bow her head and when to gather her things. During church, she and Nathan sat in a row with Savannah, Jake and Ms. Donna, and Cooper caught herself staring at the harmless-looking woman several times during the sermon. Pastor Matthews was preaching on the Gospel of John, but Cooper missed most of that, too. When the pastor invited them to pray with bowed heads and closed eyes, she watched Ms. Donna instead.

As soon as the service was done, everyone began to file out of the chapel, chatting, laughing and making lunch plans. Cooper hung back. So did Ms. Donna.

When they were finally alone at the back of the church, Ms. Donna took a seat beside her, smiled kindly and took Cooper’s hand. “Sweetie, if I’m not mistaken, you want to talk with me.”

Cooper swallowed hard. “Yes, I do. Although I’m not really sure where to start.”

Ms. Donna settled more comfortably in her seat and rearranged her hat. “Best to start at the beginning. That’s what my grandmother always told me.”

Cooper forced a smile. “Good advice.” But she struggled to begin. Was there a proper way to accuse someone of theft? Were there written rules? A code of etiquette? “This isn’t going to be easy—to hear or to say,” she said, at last. “And I hope you know that I don’t think badly of you as a person. I’m just trying to . . . to find the truth.”

Ms. Donna arched a suspicious brow. “All right.”

“You see, a friend of mine has a . . . a kind of sixth sense when it comes to certain less-than-legal subjects. He understands certain things about that
life that I don’t. Again, I don’t think badly of you, and I won’t, no matter what you say.”

“Spit it out, sweetie. You’ve got me on the edge of my seat!”

“My friend seems to believe that you . . . Ms. Donna, he says that you’re a . . .”

“Out with it, sweetie.”

Cooper took a deep breath, said a quick, silent prayer, and continued. “He thinks you may be involved in the church robberies, specifically the attempted robbery of
this
church.”

Ms. Donna’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Your friend thinks I steal from churches?”

“Yes.”

The older woman looked positively shocked. “Dear me, does he think I killed that woman, too?”

“No!” Cooper replied quickly. “No, not at all. He’s quite convinced you had nothing to do with the murder . . . just the robbery.”

“Oh, well, I’m glad he has such a high opinion of me. Is that why you were so quiet this morning? Trying to decide if I was guilty?”

“Less trying to determine guilt and more trying to figure out how to broach the subject.”

Ms. Donna shook her head, ringing her hands. “Do
you
think I’m a thief?”

Cooper hesitated, and Ms. Donna saw it.

“I don’t . . . I don’t
want
to think that,” Cooper finally explained. “There’s video footage of the break-in, of someone opening the back door and sneaking into the church.”

The momentary expression of panic that crossed Ms. Donna’s otherwise indignant face removed all doubt from Cooper’s mind. It was the look of a wrongdoer on the verge of being caught—guilt mixed with dread. As a con artist, Ms. Donna had been fully prepared to face an accusation and respond appropriately, but she wasn’t prepared to face real evidence.

Confidently, Cooper straightened up and looked Ms. Donna in the eye. “I don’t think you’re a killer, Ms. Donna. But if the police arrest someone for the robbery, they’ll also try to blame that person for murder. You need to tell me what happened that night.”

“This is ridiculous!” Ms. Donna insisted, her voice less sure, more uneven than before. “I don’t have to sit here and take this!”

“You’re right. You don’t. You should know, however, that the police have the video I saw, and if my friend and I were able to connect the dots, the cops will, too. It’s only a matter of time . . . time that will be shortened significantly if someone calls in a tip about the identity of the thief.”

Ms. Donna’s face went gray. “You wouldn’t.”

“Not immediately, no.”

“You’re trying to blackmail me.”

“It’s only blackmail if you have something to hide, Ms. Donna. If you’re innocent, I have no leverage.”

Ms. Donna ran her tongue against the inside of her cheek and then clamped her lips together. She gave Cooper a steely glare. Her voice was flat, cold. “I think I’ll be leaving now.”

“I’d think twice about leaving the city, if I were you,” Cooper replied as Ms. Donna stepped past her and hurried toward the door. “It wouldn’t look good if the police found you trying to run away.”

Ms. Donna paused, glanced over her shoulder with a seething scowl and stormed out.