The Root of All Evil (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 4) (33 page)

McNamara straightened. “I remember you saying that, too. Lewis was in debt and Borreo may have paid him to scout the Richmond area. And you believe John Borreo is connected to Sylvia’s murder. Is that right?”

“I believe he is.”

“I could understand Borreo going after a former employee—Lewis—but Sylvia? Did she work for him, too?”

“No. I think she was trying to get money to save her family estate in Michigan. Lewis wanted her to sell it, because that money would’ve paid a lot of gambling debts.”

“How do you know all that?”

“Abbi Merken filled us in on some of the particulars of Sylvia and Lewis’s relationship.” Cooper ignored McNamara’s irritation at that comment and continued. “Anyway, on Parent Night, Sylvia was talking to someone on the phone, saying she ‘couldn’t afford it’ and ‘no, don’t do that.’ She was really upset. I think Lewis was pressuring her again to give him money or sell the house. When she hung up, she looked at the underside of one of the pots the students had made and said, ‘I think you’ll do.’ At the time I had no idea what she meant. She was looking at the signature, which I’d be willing to bet is that same three hashmarks from the pictures. At some point she must have recognized that signature, put the pieces together, and figured out that the artist—her student—was John Borreo’s son. It’s even possible she realized that a while ago but never had reason to act on it until now.”

“Blackmail,” McNamara interjected. “You believe Sylvia figured out Borreo’s new identity through his son’s artwork and decided to blackmail him to pay off Lewis’s debt in exchange for her silence.”

“Exactly. Sylvia decided to make money by blackmailing John Borreo, and she probably made arrangements with him to exchange money for the evidence at the school . . . most likely the night she died.”

McNamara stood and began to pace. “But Borreo didn’t trust her to remain silent or to hand over all the evidence. And he was right; she was making a copy as an insurance policy.”

Cooper continued. “Since Borreo didn’t care to make a deal and trust Sylvia, he sent a hitman instead of cash.”

“What makes you think the hit is professional?”

Cooper hesitated, then pointed to the police file she’d just returned. “The wound that killed Sylvia is a difficult one to inflict. It was hidden among a lot of other stabs, but that one wound is the one that made sure she was dead.”

The inspector’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “And how does a copy machine repairperson know something like that?”

“I’m a manager now, not a repairperson,” Cooper corrected, ignoring his question. “Lewis was a liability, so Borreo sent his hitman to tie up the loose end.”

“I don’t suppose you know exactly who killed Sylvia.”

“Someone connected to John Borreo.”

“Which includes a whole network of mob affiliates.”

Cooper shrugged. “I don’t know anything else, Inspector. I’ve given you all I’ve got. Now, is the file
borrowing
forgiven? She didn’t mean any harm by it.”

McNamara sighed and held up the folder. “Officer Brayden, Ms. Lee’s friend
borrowed
this from the station. Mind putting it where it belongs?”

Officer Brayden took it from him. “Will do, Inspector. Didn’t even know this copy was missing.” He looked at Cooper. “If it were me, I wouldn’t be too hard on Ms. Lee because some grandma decided to take the file.”

“Yes, I’m aware that it was Ms. Lee’s ‘old woman’ friend who did it, and not Ms. Lee. Did I ask for your opinion?”

Officer Brayden shook his head and, file in hand, left.

“All right, Ms. Lee, since I feel a bit calmer now, I think you have more explaining to do.”

“But I told you everything.”

“Yes, you did. And now I’d like to know
how
you know it. Step by step. I want to know who you talked to, when, how long . . . everything. Start with Parent Night and bring me up to speed with every second of your side inquiries.”

As Cooper related the entire investigation to Inspector McNamara—from Parent Night to the morning’s search of Sylvia’s school things—he poured her fresh coffee from the pot in his office and listened intently and patiently. Cooper attributed his lack of anger either to a reluctant acceptance that the Sunrise Bible Study members were nosy and couldn’t help it, or to the decision to merrily throw her behind bars as soon as her story was complete. Fearing the latter, Cooper dragged out the details as much as she could, looking for a sign in the inspector’s demeanor to indicate his state of mind. With no clue as to what he was thinking, but with no more details to give, Cooper finally brought her tale to a close.

“So I came straight over here,” she concluded. “I wanted to tell you what we’d found. Hopefully it’s helpful.”

McNamara relaxed in his chair, his head resting against the high, plush seatback and his folded fingers resting on his stomach.

“Is that everything?” he asked after a few seconds of silence. “All of it?”

“All that I can remember—every pertinent detail and a lot of the not-so-pertinent ones, too.”

“A detail you think is extraneous may actually be useful to me.”

Cooper hesitated. “What I mean, Inspector, is that I left out the personal details. With all due respect, I don’t think you need to know all about my private life to solve this case.”

He cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow, obviously contemplating whether to pursue the issue. Cooper met his curious gaze stubbornly. Even if he decided to arrest her, she had no intention of telling him about Will Brayden and Nathan, regardless of whether her relationship troubles coincided with the investigation. There were some lines that just didn’t need to be crossed.

Finally, McNamara rose, apparently thinking better of pushing for personal information. He crossed his arms over his chest. “I appreciate your cooperation, Ms. Lee. I don’t suppose it’ll do any good reminding you to leave the investigating to the professionals.”

“I’ll
try
to remember that,” Cooper replied, being as honest as possible. “My friends were worried you might throw me in jail for interfering.”

He shook his head. “While that might serve as a great reminder to you and your friends, I won’t throw you in jail . . . now. Whether I like it or not, I’ve got to worry about politics, not just police work. If word gets out that I arrested a nice—albeit nosy—young lady because her Bible study wanted to see justice done for an acquaintance of theirs, the media would . . .” The inspector actually shuddered. “It’d be a bad day for me. Let’s just leave it at that.”

Cooper wanted to tell him that she wasn’t nosy
so much as she wanted to help fix the problem, but she decided against correcting the man who had the power to incarcerate her with a single word. Instead she just said, “Thanks for not jailing me.”

“Don’t thank me, just . . . try to rein in that meddlesome nature. You and your friends think you’re doing a good thing, but sooner or later you’ll get hurt, or you’ll cause someone else to get hurt. Then you’ll have to live with the consequences.”

“I’ll remember that. In the meantime, I hope what we found helps you track down Sylvia’s killer . . . Sylvia
and
Lewis’s killer, that is.”

“I doubt we’ll find John Borreo,” the inspector replied. “But we stand a chance of catching the actual murderer, or someone close to him.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Ms. Lee, you need to be careful. Whoever did this was watching Lewis and Sylvia closely, and he’s probably still keeping an eye on the investigation and the people involved. The killer might even be someone Sylvia knew, a person placed nearby to make sure she and Lewis didn’t cause problems. Be careful.”

A cold little shiver worked its way up Cooper’s back. “I will.”

• • •

When Cooper emerged from the station, she found Officer Brayden waiting in the parking lot, leaning against her driver’s-side door. He smiled when he saw her and waved.

“I hope you weren’t in too much trouble in there,” he said, stepping toward her as if intending to give her a hug.

Cooper kept her distance. “Not too much.” She lingered at the front bumper, so a headlight separated her from Brayden. Even at this distance, though, she felt the magnetism of his personality. “I don’t want to keep you from your work.”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you.” He handed her a few pieces of paper. “I ran those prints, the ones from your office.”

Cooper snatched the paper and scoured the information. “What did you find? Who did it?”

He flashed a smile, took a step closer and flipped the page. “I think you’ll like this.” He pointed to a set of prints. “These were the only prints I found on every stolen item.”

“Whose are they?”

He shrugged. “No idea. They don’t belong to anyone I printed yesterday, but I’d be willing to bet they belong to your thief.”

Cooper felt a nearly overwhelming urge to pull Officer Brayden into a hug but she refrained, instead offering a friendly handshake, which he accepted. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your help, Officer Brayden.”

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Will?”

“A few more.” Cooper returned the papers to him. “Thanks for coming to Angela’s rescue. I know she’s grateful for it.”

Brayden continued to hold her hand. “To be honest, it wasn’t Angela’s rescue I was concerned about.”

Cooper’s mind searched for an appropriate response. “I guess I should also thank you for standing up for me in front of the inspector, about the borrowed file.”

“Hey, we can’t be held responsible for what our friends do, right?”

Cooper laughed.

“Did I say something amusing?”

“Sort of. I just never thought I’d call Ms. Donna a friend, but I guess she is. We’ve been talking, spending time together. I gave her the guest room, and she’s giving me advice. We really have become friends.”

Officer Brayden studied her expression. “I’m still not sure I understand why that’s funny.”

“Sorry. It’s kind of a private joke, I suppose. I should be going.”

“Right, yes. I’m sure you’ve got plans.”

Cooper smiled but didn’t respond. Tonight her plans consisted of eating her mama’s cooking, watching old movies with Grammy and then falling asleep beside two cats. She hopped into her truck and started up the engine. Brayden rapped on the window, and Cooper rolled it down.

“Why don’t you take this with you?” he offered, motioning toward his fingerprint analysis. “You’ll want to share it with your boss.”

As he handed the papers over, they dropped to the ground, scattering around the truck door. He knelt down, taking a few moments to retrieve them all. “I’m not usually so clumsy,” he said, his fingertips brushing against her hand as he turned over the papers. “I have a difficult time thinking straight when I’m around you. Good thing I’m headed off duty. I’m not sure I can focus on keeping the peace right now.”

Cooper swallowed hard. “Officer . . . you have a nice night.” And with that, she drove away.

Her usual tunes for the ride home would have included the Beatles’ greatest hits, but every song made her think of Will or Nathan or both. She’d hoped the awkwardness between herself and Officer Brayden would dissipate the more she was around him . . . Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening at all. No matter how she dressed or what she did, he seemed more and more attracted to her. Cooper was intrigued.

But at least her part in the investigation was done, and she felt a weight lifted off her because of it. McNamara knew everything she knew, and he had all the evidence she’d had.

A soft beep emanated from her purse, and she found her cell phone nearly dead, with just enough battery left to power its pathetic death wail.

No sooner had she plugged it into its car charger than the beeping was replaced by another more troubling sound.

Thump-thump-thump
.

As the steering wheel pulled hard to the left, the sound intensified. Cooper signaled and pulled off onto the shoulder. Waiting for a break in traffic, she hopped out onto the pavement to find she had a flat tire.

She went back to the truck’s cab and checked her phone. Even plugged in, it was basically dead and would need more time to charge before she’d be able to call for help.

“Great,” she muttered, watching the cars speed past. “Because life hasn’t been difficult enough lately . . .”

When Cooper was sixteen, Earl had taught her how to change a tire, saying that if she was old enough to drive, she was old enough to take care of the car. Unlike Ashley, Cooper had taken to auto maintenance as readily as she had office machine repair. So after a few minutes of feeling sorry for herself, Cooper waited for another break in traffic and went around to the truck bed to get her tire iron and spare. Unfortunately, when she set the spare on the ground, she found that it, too, was flat; it had been a long time since she’d checked it.

So much for self-sufficiency,
she thought, tossing tire and iron back into the bed. She offered a quick prayer that a helpful stranger would stop to assist, lifted herself up onto the tailgate and sat, feet swinging, trying to remain calm.

Granted, she hadn’t had big plans for tonight, but Maggie’s home-cooked meal and Grammy’s old movies were waiting. Not long after Cooper sat down, a car pulled in behind her and the driver stepped out.

Before Cooper saw who it was, she’d slipped off the tailgate and was headed toward the stranger to say thanks. But as she neared the driver, Cooper realized it wasn’t a stranger. It was Harry Wintersteen.

“Ms. Lee! Good to see you. Trouble?” he asked as Cooper skidded to a halt in front of his car.

Cooper looked around. So many people passed by, but as she recalled the inspector’s warning—about Sylvia’s killer being a part of her life—she wondered if anyone would see or stop if she were in danger. She gulped. “Um . . . flat tire. I have a spare, but it’s flat, too.”

“Mind if I take a look?”

Cooper nodded.
Yes, I mind,
she thought.
You might be a professional killer, watching me because I was looking into Sylvia’s murder. You might be planning to bludgeon me with a tire iron
. Aloud, she tried to make polite conversation. Maybe if Harry liked her as a person, he’d have trouble with the bludgeoning part. “Lucky you came along. I wasn’t sure how long I’d have to wait. I was working up the energy to walk to the nearest auto shop.”