The Root of All Evil (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 4) (2 page)

“So,” Savannah continued. “According to this, what is expected of church leadership?”

The discussion went on without pause until music floated down the hallway from the chapel. It was the CD the praise band played while people said hello to one another and found their seats.

“Looks like that’s all the time we have for today,” Savannah said. “Before we pray and head on in, I do want to mention a volunteer opportunity.”

Trish closed her Bible. “What’s it for?”

“This one comes straight from Pastor Matthews,” Savannah replied. “Hope Street Christian Academy is hosting a Parent Night this Friday. It’ll be a time for students to bring their folks to the school to meet other parents, get to know teachers, see the classrooms. Pastor Matthews said he needs some volunteers to bring drinks and snacks and to man the snack table. I told him I’d ask if anyone here is interested. We
are
pretty well known around here for our own snack table.”

Cooper thought through her week’s schedule. Friday was wide open. “Sounds like a fun time! I bet I could get mama to make some cookies. It’d be great advertising for Magnolia’s Marvels.”

Quinton snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it,” he announced. “Mini cupcakes. Not too much sugar for the kids. Maybe a red velvet, a chocolate and—”

“Just don’t bring the maple ones,” Jake warned, the corner of his mouth turned up in a little grin. “I doubt kindergarten, junior high or high school kids want meat in their desserts.”

“I was actually thinking of a vanilla coconut for the third option,” Quinton jested in return. “But now that you mention it, maybe I
will
bring something more exotic. Say, Savannah, why hasn’t Pastor Matthews asked us to do this before? Is this a regular event the school hosts?”

Savannah shook her head. “They have parent-teacher conferences, which aren’t always fun for the parents or the teachers, but this is something new. It’s just supposed to be a positive evening. Unfortunately, our little school isn’t doing so well financially, and Pastor Matthews is hoping that if parents can come and see the place—without the stress of conferences—they’ll want to be more involved in fund-raising.”

“I wish I could be there to help,” Trish said. “My immune system isn’t quite up to snuff. Phillip doesn’t even want me coming to church as much as I do—all the people and the germs, you know. But I feel so much better when I get to see everyone here. However, I don’t think he’d let me out of the house if he knew I was going to be around a school full of kids.”

“We’ll be praying for your health,” Savannah said, taking hold of Trish’s hand. “Or, I guess I should say, we’ll
continue
praying for your health.”

Trish smiled. “The cancer is basically gone. The chemo is almost over. I think a prayer of thanks is in order, too.”

“Sorry, but I can’t come either,” Bryant apologized. “I’ve got plans with Jane. She’s been working late a lot, and we planned on a nice family movie night—her and me and her kids.”

Trish wagged a warning finger in his face. “No chocolate.”

Bryant raised his hands in surrender. “I got it. No chocolate. And . . . maybe an apology for using chocolate so often in the past.”

Nathan had his phone out and was looking at his calendar. “I’m not sure if I can make it. I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

“Big plans this Friday?” Cooper asked, nudging him with her elbow. “And I’m not invited?”

“I
might
be meeting with a new client,” he explained, speaking of his website design business. “He’s been kind of flakey, so the meeting may get moved again. I should know by Wednesday.”

“That sounds like another prayer request to me,” Savannah said. “Jake and I will be bringing some beverages Friday, and the school is providing plates and glasses for us. We can get all the particulars from Pastor Matthews after church today. Now, if we all bow our heads, we can pray and not be late.”

• • •

The Lee clan—Cooper, her mama, her daddy and her grammy—along with Nathan, sat around a perfect Sunday afternoon feast: applesauce pork chops, turnip greens with bacon, cornbread muffins and a hash brown casserole.

“Did you hear about the Catholic church on the other side of town?” Maggie asked of the table. Everyone nodded. “Well, I still can hardly believe it.”

Cooper stabbed her fork into a bite of pork and piled on some turnip greens. “Pastor Matthews told us what happened. It’s so sad. Who’d want to rob a church?”

“Lots of folks, I suspect,” Grammy commented through a mouthful of cornbread. Little crumbs fell from her lips to her plate. “Lots of bad people out there, Granddaughter. Just be grateful nobody was hurt.”

Cooper nodded. “I
am
grateful for that. Didn’t something like this happen last month, too?”

“Different church,” Earl said. It was his first comment during the meal.

Grammy snatched another muffin out of its basket and tore off half, dunking it in the pork’s applesauce. “Methodists that time, if memory serves me. At least our robbers are equal opportunity. No preferential treatment for Catholic or Protestant.”

Nathan chuckled. “I guess there’s some merit in that.” His smile disappeared. “Do the police have any leads? Pastor Matthews didn’t talk about the investigation, just wanted to make sure everyone knew what’s going on.”

Maggie sighed, shaking her head. “As far as I know, the police don’t have any suspects. Not a one. First the Methodist church last month and the Catholic church—when was it—Wednesday before last? So sad to think about. Robbing churches.”

As if sensing that some levity was needed, Grammy’s latest rescue project bounded into the dining area. His tongue dangled from his mouth and his curled tail wagged so hard his entire hind end moved side to side.

“Who’s this?” Nathan asked, peering under the table to catch a better view of the dog.

Cooper scooted her chair back and reached down, scooping up the pet, an overweight pug with only one eye. “This is Popeye.”

Grammy reached over to the dog and scratched his ear. “Forget church robbing. How could anyone leave a poor, defenseless animal? If there was any doubt evil is alive and well, this ought to be proof enough!”

Cooper smiled at her grandmother, an obstinate and opinionated woman who loved her family fiercely and couldn’t abide to see an animal neglected or in pain. Grammy was often better with animals than with people. “It worked out for the best, Grammy. I bet Popeye’s much better off with you than where he was before. Whoever owned him obviously didn’t care for him.”

Nathan played with the dog’s paw. “Do you know what happened to him?”

Grammy held out her arms and Cooper handed Popeye over. “Some folks found him in an abandoned apartment. That eye was already gone and healed up, so it wasn’t a recent accident. His previous owners just left him there by himself with a little bowl of water and a bag of Puppy Chow dumped on the floor.”

Maggie offered her mother-in-law an encouraging smile. “Popeye was on the news a few weeks ago. Grammy called the station up during the commercial break and Earl took her down to pick him up.”

“She’s trying to find him a good home,” Earl said, although Cooper wondered if this was more wishful thinking than an actual plan. Once Grammy got attached, she was stubborn. And once she gave an animal a name, it was part of the family, just like her oversized orange tomcat, Little Boy, and her hawk, Columbus.

Maggie started to take away the dishes, and Cooper rose to help.

Her mom shook her head. “I’m not cleaning. I’m just making room for dessert.”

“If you’re itching to move around though . . .” Grammy glanced over at Popeye’s harness hanging on the wall by the back door. “I’m trying to train him on a leash so we can go to church together some time.”

Cooper detected a sigh from her usually silent father.

“I could use a walk,” Cooper said. “What do you say, Popeye? You want some fresh air before dessert?”

Popeye wagged his tail again and barked. It was easy to see how the little pug caught Grammy’s eye. He was a cute dog with a plump body, short legs and a tail that looked like a furry curly fry. His mouth was even drawn back in what Cooper swore was a smile. Most of all, he loved every member of the family as if he’d been raised with them, and he was fiercely defensive of Grammy.

He nearly attacked the mailman just for waving.

Popeye also loved to go on walks, and when Cooper reached for his harness, he jumped and twisted around in circles in midair. Nathan picked him up so Cooper could slip on the harness. With leash in hand, Cooper opened the back door, and out bolted the pug.

Nathan followed, closing the door behind them and immediately slipping his arm around Cooper’s waist. The cool October breeze whipped through her hair, carrying the smell of grass and leaves, while the warm sun hung lazily in the afternoon sky. Were it not for the pug going crazy at the end of the leash, it would have been a very romantic walk.

“Nice afternoon,” Nathan said, holding Cooper close. “Smells like fall.”

Cooper laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. It was warm and muscular. “It is nice, isn’t it? A perfect day.” They walked past the aviary Earl had built for Columbus and followed the path toward Cooper’s greenhouse. “I only wish the whole family could be here.”

“Your sister must be going crazy. How long has she been on bed rest?”

“Four weeks. Although if you ask her, it’s been more like a year.”

Nathan grinned. “Just
one
year? Is she doing all right?”

“She’s . . . okay,” Cooper replied after a moment. Ashley was thirty weeks along into what her doctor had labeled a very high-risk pregnancy. After more than a year of trying to conceive, Ashley had learned she had a bicornuate uterus, making it difficult to carry and have a baby. Now, toward the end of her pregnancy, she was on a strict regimen of bed rest and constant care.

Cooper continued. “She’s going crazy, of course, but she knows it’s best for the baby and for her. After all she and Lincoln went through to get pregnant, she’s okay not taking any chances.”

“What does she do all day?”

Cooper shrugged. “I haven’t seen her a whole lot since she went on bed rest, but Mama says she’s keeping busy—watching movies, crocheting, doing puzzles. When I talked to her on the phone she listed off all the books she’s gotten through. I think she’s read more novels in the past month than in the rest of her life combined.”

They passed by the greenhouse, reminding Cooper she needed to do some gardening that week. Nathan gave her a peck on the cheek. “I’m glad she’s got something to do,” he said. “I can’t imagine having to stay in bed nonstop.”

“Might be nice for a day or two.”

“Sure, but weeks on end? I’d get bored out of my mind. Besides, it’s different when you
choose
to lounge in bed all day. Then it’s relaxing. When you’re sick or something and you don’t have a choice, it’s just . . .”

“Infuriating?”

“Exactly.”

They reached the end of the greenhouse, and Popeye tugged on his leash to go back to the house. Cooper and Nathan turned around to oblige.

“It might be infuriating,” Cooper commented, “but at least it’s something they want—the baby, I mean. Ashley’s not stuck in bed for no good reason. She’ll get something wonderful out of it in the end.”

Nathan shrugged. He wore an odd expression that Cooper couldn’t quite read. “I guess so. They want a baby, so they’re doing what they have to do to keep the baby healthy. Still, a tough spot for her.”

“But it’s worth it.”

“I guess so.” He didn’t sound very sure.

Cooper tried to decipher his expression. His brow was furrowed, as if he were concerned, and one side of his mouth was drawn back, as if he were skeptical. Cooper knew he wanted children someday—or at least she thought she knew—but now she wondered. Maybe he hadn’t realized what was sometimes required to get children. Maybe he still ascribed to the stork theory—that loving parents got a nice delivery from the friendly, baby-carrying bird.

Or, Cooper realized with rising anxiety, maybe seeing what Ashley and Lincoln were going through had made him rethink the kind of future he wanted.

Before Cooper could subtly probe for an explanation of Nathan’s reaction, the back door opened and Grammy stepped outside, watching the couple curiously. Popeye tugged on his leash so hard that it jerked Cooper out of Nathan’s arm and away from her worries. Nathan took hold of her hand. Grammy looked disappointed.

“Dessert time,” Grammy announced as the two came closer. She had a mischievous little twinkle in her eye. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Cooper smiled. “Just getting Popeye his exercise, Grammy.”

“Too bad. But come on in. Your mama made a good-looking pie, and if you’re not at the table when we sit down to eat it, I’m not sharing.”

2

A mountain of paperwork stared at Cooper from her desk. In her former position as repairman—or
repairperson—
at Make It Work!, Richmond’s premier office equipment repair company, she had to file reports about her trips and repairs, but that was it. Now, as manager of Leasing and Maintenance, the paperwork was never ending. She’d gone from spending most of her time under copy machines and driving to and from jobs to spending her days at a desk.

The great thing about her promotion was the fifty percent increase in pay. All those credit card bills were starting to disappear, and Cooper was finally seeing a future without debt. If she had to trade a little freedom for that future, so be it.

Cooper sifted through the first few papers on her desk. They were reports from her two employees in Leasing and Maintenance: Josh Whitaker—formerly employed by a mom-and-pop repair company—and Bobby Walker—who jumped ship at Reliable Office Solutions before they went out of business. Josh and Bobby respected and liked Cooper, and they’d quickly learned their duties, making Cooper’s own transition from repairs to deskwork that much smoother.

Today, her dependable crew was out on repair calls, and by eleven thirty Cooper felt her eyes crossing from poring over paperwork. She stretched her arms over her head, leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “I’m in my repair van,” she mumbled. “Easy drive. No traffic. The Beatles crooning me to my next job.” But the smell of paper and ink robbed her of any relaxation her imagination might have provided. She wasn’t in the van, and she wasn’t listening to the Beatles. To make matters worse, she’d forgotten her headphones today, so she couldn’t even indulge in a little “Hard Day’s Night” without disrupting Mr. Farmer on the other side of the wall.