The Way of the Wicked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 2) (8 page)

“It’s just life, dear,” Penny said and waved good-bye.

Cooper watched the old car chug off and then wheeled the cart back up the ramp. Lali was waiting at the top, chatting with Nathan.

“Drive safely,” Lali told him. Nathan winked at Cooper and then got in his car.

Once all the drivers had left, Lali led Cooper back to a warren of cubicles. Every desk was stacked with piles of paperwork and oversized calendars filled with appointments. Myriads of colored Post-it notes covered each wall. Photos of loved ones, movie ticket stubs, handwritten letters, and children’s drawings were fastened by thumbtacks to the surface of each desk’s bulletin board not already papered by phone lists, Excel spreadsheets, and typed memos.

“I don’t know if we have a free workspace in this whole building!” Lali laughed melodiously. “I suppose I could move my broken printer off my desk and let you work there.” She sighed. “That printer has bested me. I thought that if I peeked inside I could tell why it keeps jamming. Boy, was that a mistake.”

“I could take a look at it for you,” Cooper offered. “I fix office machines for a living.”

“That would be wonderful,” Lali said happily. “It’s one of our laser printers and we’re really hurting without it.” She directed Cooper to a set of larger cubicles toward the back of the room. The desks were all unoccupied except for one. Hunched over a list of figures, a plump Hispanic woman frowned in concentration even as her right hand flew over the keys of an adding machine.

“That’s Anita,” Lali whispered. “I never talk to her when she’s in math mode.” She pointed to the next cubicle, which shared a wall with Anita’s. “Here’s the printer. I just shoved it to the side and have been trying to work around it all week.”

“I have a toolbox in my truck.” Cooper’s attention was drawn to the partially dissected machine. “I’ll go get it and see what I can do.”

“We’re so lucky to have you volunteering today.” Lali smiled and Cooper felt infused with warmth. “I’m going to drum up a little snack for the three of us.” Lali jerked her thumb toward Anita’s cubicle. “She’s going to need something to lift her spirits after she reviews the budget. See you in a bit.”

After collecting her toolbox, Cooper examined the HP 2100 printer. Its LED screen flashed a neon-green error code, but Cooper knew that the jam could be connected to several different parts. She checked the most obvious area—the paper roller—in hopes of finding a small scrap of paper lodged there, but there were no bits or shreds hiding in the recesses of the printer.

Retrieving her screwdriver, Cooper removed the paper roller and laser-scanning device and peered inside the printer. It quickly became obvious that the problem had occurred around the fuser rollers, the part of the printer that melted the toner and transferred ink to paper. Pieces of thick cardstock had become wedged at both ends of the fuser, keeping the paper from sliding over the rollers.

While Cooper removed the scraps using a pair of long tweezers, Anita’s phone rang.

“Anita Elmont speaking,” Cooper heard Anita say. And then, “Oh, Lord. Oh, the poor thing. How did it happen?” Her voice was shrill with worry.

Cooper dropped the last remnant of cardstock into Lali’s garbage can. She watched it flutter down into the dark receptacle like a broken butterfly falling through the night sky.

“Our volunteers found her? Oh, Lord,” she repeated with a little moan. “One of them is delivering for the first time today?” She paused. “Yes, I’ll tell Lali. We’ll call the family, too. How did she pass?” She grew quiet again. “Oh?” she whispered and then added, “Thank you for calling.”

Cooper heard footsteps heading their way.

“Campbell made pumpkin raisin bread,” Lali announced cheerfully. “It’s still warm from the oven.” Her gait slowed as she neared Anita’s desk. “What’s wrong?”

“Mrs. Davenport died,” Anita said somberly. “Brenda found her. She had a new volunteer with her today. That TV weatherman.”

Bryant!
Cooper thought.

“Oh, dear.” Lali set a plate on Anita’s desk. “What happened?”

“One of the paramedics called on the way to the hospital—that same nice young man who picked up Mr. Manningham last month.”

“But Mrs. Davenport was just fine yesterday.” Lali’s voice trembled. “How can this be? I’m having déjà vu. This is just like the morning we heard about Mr. Manningham! Anita, how can they both have been in perfect health one day and be dead the next?”

Anita remained silent for several moments.

“Did the paramedic share the cause of death?” Lali asked quietly.

“He didn’t know what it was. But Lali, Mrs. Davenport was sitting upright in her chair.”

“Just like Mr. Manningham,” Lali breathed.

Cooper heard the squeak of Anita’s wheeled desk chair as she shifted her weight. “Lali, I hate to say this, but what if the deaths weren’t natural? Two folks dying upright in their chairs. Two folks who were fine and dandy the day before?” Her voice rose. “What if someone helped these two into the next world? Someone who didn’t get what they wanted from them?”

“As in our thief? You think the person that took Mr. Manningham’s coin and Mrs. Davenport’s ring crossed that line? That our clients were intentionally killed?” Fear punctuated Lali’s words.

“I am.” Anita released a heavy sigh. “Lord help us, but there’s a devil among us. A devil disguised as a saint.”

6

Bryant was unusually subdued prior to the Sunrise Bible Study Group’s discussion of their
Amazing Joseph
homework.

“My housekeeper’s Brazilian,” Trish explained, removing layers of plastic wrap from a plate of cookies. “I asked her to bake something for today. I can make something passable from a mix, but this woman can cook!” She spread her hand out over the food. “She made coffee cookies, a
bolo
cake, and fried plantains.”

“I’ll sample one of everything,” Quinton said eagerly. “This
bolo
cake’s a little like my mama’s pound cake, but it’s even more moist. Don’t tell her I said that.” He speared a plantain with a plastic fork and dropped it onto his plate. “Thank you, Trish.”

Bryant gestured at the carafe in Cooper’s hand. “Would you hit me with some caffeine, Cooper? I swear, my hands have been shaking since yesterday.”

Cooper filled his mug and then gave him a curious look.

Bryant met her eyes. “I’m still unsettled. Even my George Hamilton tan has faded since I saw poor Mrs. Davenport.”

“Did she look peaceful?” Jake wanted to know. “I’d feel better about finding someone like that if I could just picture them being asleep.”

“Her mouth was hanging open like she’d fallen asleep, but she was slumped sideways in her chair and she was so pale. Her skin was white, her hair was white, her housedress was white. Ghost-like.” Bryant spoke very softly. “I prefer to picture older folks, like my parents, dying in their beds surrounded by family.” He stared forlornly at his coffee cup. “I believe that’s what got to me. Seeing Mrs. Davenport and thinking of my own mama. It scared me.”

Savannah nodded. “In Isaiah forty-six, God says, ‘Even to your old age and gray hairs I am he, I am he who will sustain you. I have made you and I will carry you; I will sustain you and I will rescue you.’” She gave Bryant an affectionate smile. “The Lord brought Mrs. Davenport home. Her spirit was long gone by the time you got there. She was probably looking down from heaven and feeling sorry for
you
!” Savannah laughed.

Bryant held his hands up. “Okay, I’m ready to focus on Joseph now, even though our last page of homework bothered me a bit.”

“Me too,” Nathan agreed. “I can’t believe that Jacob’s sons lied to him and shoved that bloodstained robe in his face. They made him believe Joseph was dead.”

“Those brothers must have been on the verge of boiling over for years,” Trish said.

Quinton shook his head. “It’s such a horrendous heartbreak for a parent to lose a child, and Joseph’s death was sudden and brutal to boot. No wonder Jacob aged overnight.”

Trish’s eyes filled with tears. “When I think of
anything
bad happening to one of my precious girls, oh, I just can’t even say it! Poor Jacob! That poor man!”

The group shared the remainder of their homework answers and then closed their workbooks.

“I wonder if anyone will miss Mrs. Davenport,” Bryant said, getting up to refill his coffee mug.

“I’m sure someone will.” Nathan gave Bryant’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

Cooper served herself a plantain, returned to her seat, and began slicing the fruit into tiny pieces.

“You look like you’re planning to feed a toddler,” Trish said. “Are you all right?”

Cooper dropped her fork. “I’m just wrestling over whether or not to share something with all of you.”

Jake gestured at her with both hands. “Come on, out with it!”

Cooper hesitated. Her friends gazed at her with a mixture of expectancy and impatience.

“Do I have to go out to the Mr. Faucet van for my toolbox and pry the secret out of you?” Jake put on a theatrical scowl. “I know you have your own toolbox, but try to remember where mine have been.”

“Okay, okay. You win.” As Cooper looked at her friends, she felt the lighthearted moment slip away. “I overheard alarming things both times we were at Door-2-Door’s headquarters. I wasn’t sure if I should say anything, but now I feel compelled to share what I heard.”

Reluctantly, she told her friends about the thefts and the similarities between Mrs. Davenport’s and Mr. Manningham’s deaths.

“What are you implying?” Trish asked when Cooper was done. “That someone
deliberately
harmed these people?”

“Seems clear as glass to me,” Jake said with a snarl. “Stealing from folks who live alone and have no one to look out for them! Finding the one or two precious things they’ve tucked away and taking it.” He banged his fists against his desk. “I’d like to meet this scumbag in a dark alley.”

“Lali said that both clients died suddenly, and in their chairs? With no signs of illness the previous day?” Nathan asked, his expression troubled.

Cooper nodded.

“And both were victims of the Door-2-Door volunteer burglar? This is awful.” Quinton shook his head woefully.

“Wait a minute!” Bryant interjected. “We don’t know that the thief is a volunteer. Other outsiders must go into these people’s homes.”

“Like who?” Trish demanded. “You heard what Lali said during orientation. Door-2-Door arranges for food delivery, light housekeeping, yard work, and home repair. They even take care of driving their clients to important appointments and seeing to their pets. That’s why I wanted to sponsor a route. Door-2-Door does so much more than provide nutritious meals.”

“What about medical treatment?” Bryant argued. “These folks need regular checkups, right? My mother sees several doctors and she’s fit as a fiddle.”

“I think Medicaid pays for a nurse to come to their homes, but I don’t know how often,” Savannah said. “I could ask Pearl, the woman who helps me with errands and such. Her daughter’s a nurse.”

“Either way, someone’s mighty shady!” Jake exclaimed. “And it’s
our
duty to make sure that no one else gets robbed or . . . hurt. We need to figure out just who we’re working with every Saturday and find the dirty rat hiding behind a mask of kindness and charity.”

Most of the Sunrise members nodded in agreement, but Trish looked unhappy. Cooper suspected that Trish was concerned that her company’s reputation would suffer if her friends launched their own investigation. “The volunteers all seem like lovely people,” she said. “What if we’re jumping to conclusions? We could be making a huge mistake.”

“What do you think, Savannah?” Cooper asked.

Savannah tugged on her long black braid and sighed. “What’s happening to those people is unjust. The elderly should be treated with love, dignity, and respect.”

Quinton glanced at Cooper. “But do you believe we should get involved?”

After a long pause, Savannah nodded. “A line from the fourth chapter of Genesis comes to mind: ‘Sin is crouching at your door; it desires to have you, but you must master it.’” She looked intently at her Bible study group. “Someone has opened the door wide and invited sin to become their master. I believe we’ve been called to find this wolf in angel’s robes before someone else falls prey to their corrupted heart.”

• • •

Cooper wanted to look her best for her date with Nathan. He was taking her to a trendy French restaurant downtown and Cooper’s head was already filled with romantic images of a candlelit meal filled with intimate conversation followed by a stroll in the city. She hoped they’d find a private place where Nathan could take her in his arms and kiss her good night over and over again.

It was this last vision that encouraged her to wear the pale green bra she’d bought at the mall that afternoon. The saleswoman, who’d been the epitome of tact and discretion, had sold her a water bra.

“It’s very comfortable and will enhance your natural shape,” the woman said. “It looks great under T-shirts and cocktail dresses.”

Cooper had squeezed the padded cups and the material had given way as though it were stuffed with Jell-O. But when she tried it on, she’d found it extremely comfortable and liked the way its shape subtly emphasized her curves.

“You’re lookin’ just like a flower this evenin’,” Grammy exclaimed when Cooper passed her in the garden. “How could a man not fall in love with you?”

Stroking her butterfly pin, Cooper blushed. “Thanks, Grammy.”

“You need to take my cardboard cat carrier with you,” Grammy added when Cooper turned to leave.

“What? Why?”

Grammy threw out her arms in a gesture of helplessness. “I’ve got one of those feelin’s again. The ones I get when there’s an animal nearby in need of help. Just take the carrier and put an old lady’s mind at ease, would you?”

“Sure, Grammy.” Cooper kissed her grandmother’s papery cheek. “Though the only thing I’m going to bring home is a doggie bag filled with French leftovers.”

• • •