“I bet my gardenin’ partner will take me,” Grammy stated hopefully.
Cooper nodded in assent. “Of course I will. Maybe we can get some new ideas for the vegetable patch.”
Not wanting to be excluded any longer, Ashley placed an exquisitely wrapped box on the table in front of Grammy. The gigantic bow was tied so tightly that she couldn’t undo the knots, so Earl severed the beautiful satin with a quick stroke of his steak knife. Grammy placed the bow on her head, bowed jauntily, and tore the lovely floral gift wrap.
A delicate waft of perfume floated from within the box and when Grammy pulled out a rose-colored throw made from lush cashmere, everyone oohed and aahed. She’d also been given a pair of slippers and a scented neck wrap that could be heated in the dryer.
“You’ll be warm and toasty for the rest of the winter,” Ashley said.
Grammy smiled at her. “Thank you, darlin’, even though you went overboard as usual.”
Ashley preened, delighted to be told that she’d gone overboard. She was always too extravagant with gift-giving, but Cooper knew that her sister possessed a generous nature and truly enjoyed shopping for others. The sisters were polar opposites in that regard, for Cooper found the notion of spending hours in Richmond’s overpriced boutiques as welcome as a root canal.
Nathan went next. He presented Grammy with a book on animal first-aid. She loved it and showed her delight by squeezing Nathan’s cheek. “All right, granddaughter. Hand yours over and let’s be done with this. I’m tired and I need a Tums.” Grammy put her hands on her stomach.
Because it was heavy, Cooper pulled the scrapbook from the gift bag and set it on Grammy’s lap. “Your wedding pictures and those from your childhood were faded and really needed to be restored, so I made you an album. It’s got all those photos as well as some pictures of the animals you’ve saved over the years.” She smiled as Grammy turned the pages. “There are a few of us, too, even though we’re not as good-looking as that three-legged beagle or your blind raccoon.”
Grammy flipped through the book in silence and then turned back to the cover, which showed her as a solemn bride. She ran her hands over the photograph, her eyes pooling with tears.
“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Cooper knelt down and covered Grammy’s brittle, weathered hand with her own.
“You ain’t caused me grief, girl. There are just so many faces here my heart’s achin’ to see again.” She smiled and wiped her eyes with her thin forearm. “When you’re old as dirt, it can be bittersweet to think of all those who’ve passed over before you.” She tucked a lock of Cooper’s ash-blonde hair behind her ear. “Don’t you fret. I don’t wanna leave you yet, and I will cherish this book until the day I do.” She placed the album on the table and scraped back her chair. “Now, it’s long past my bedtime. You young folks can keep the lights burnin’, but I’m goin’ to bed!”
Maggie refused to let Grammy go without a hug and a peck on the cheek. “We love you!” she shouted as the birthday girl shuffled down the hall.
Earl rose from his chair. “I’ll tidy up, Maggie. You outdid yourself with that cake.”
“No, Daddy.” Ashley collected a pair of coffee cups. “You two go put your feet up. The kids will clean tonight.”
As soon as their parents relocated to the living room and switched on the television, Ashley gestured for Lincoln to join her at the sink.
“So? Do the police have any idea what happened to Miguel now that you’ve handed over all the paperwork you had on him?”
Both Cooper and Nathan moved closer to the couple in order to listen to Lincoln’s answer. “They talked to the girls in human resources the most,” he answered while loading the coffee cups into the dishwasher. “I think they’ve got doubts about the authenticity of Miguel’s official documents—his social security card and driver’s license, for example.”
“Was he an illegal?” Cooper whispered.
Lincoln nodded. “That’d be my guess. Other than collecting the paperwork, they interviewed Jason, one of the mechanics. Apparently, he was the last person to see Miguel alive. Jason says that Miguel seemed totally normal yesterday. He came inside for a soda, chatted with him about an NBA game, and said he was going to gas up some demo vehicles before calling it a day.” He closed the dishwasher and wiped his hands on a birthday napkin. “That’s the last anyone saw of him.”
“Until I opened the trunk.” Ashley scoured Maggie’s serving bowls over and over again with a bristly sponge until Cooper reached across her sister and turned off the faucet. Ashley continued to stare at the soapy water. “I don’t want to sit around and wait for the police to figure this out.” She gave Lincoln a pleading look. “Can’t you start your own investigation at work?”
He quickly shook his head. “I’m leaving this to the professionals. We should stay out of their way, honey.”
On one hand, Cooper agreed with Lincoln, but she also understood the sense of responsibility her sister felt. She, too, had seen how Miguel had been trussed up and stashed inside the dark trunk. It was an undignified and disrespectful ending to a life.
Ashley had mentioned feeling haunted. Cooper was experiencing the same sensation. She couldn’t escape the image of the photograph in the newsletter. Miguel’s reluctant smile. The light of pride in his eyes. The sense of expectancy in his young face. She wanted to act as well. It was torture to feel so helpless, to have no possibility for closure until the police informed them the case was solved.
While Nathan and Lincoln said their good-byes to Earl and Maggie, Cooper took out the garbage. She dropped the bag into the plastic can outside and shivered. Ashley’s silhouette appeared in the doorframe. She hugged herself against the cold and stared expectantly at Cooper.
The two sisters came to a wordless understanding.
“We’ll give the police a week,” Cooper whispered as the clouds moved aside to reveal a white-sickle moon. “After that, I’ll ask the Sunrise members to get involved. I have faith that they’ll know just what to do next.”
5
“Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground apart from the will of your Father. And even the very hairs of your head are all numbered. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”
Matthew 10:29-31 (NIV)
Savannah phoned Cooper on Saturday to inform her that their weekly Bible study would be held at Trish’s house after worship the next day. Trish was so weak and nauseated from Friday morning’s chemo treatment that she didn’t expect to have the strength to make it to Hope Street to join her friends.
“So we’ll bring Hope Street to her,” Savannah said. “Quinton has graciously volunteered to feed us lunch and Bryant will do the hair-cutting honors. Trish wanted to give her locks one last week to hold on, but I think she’s truly resigned to the idea of a wig now.”
Cooper couldn’t imagine how terrifying it would be to have entire clumps of hair coming loose from her scalp. “Poor Trish.”
“She’s a fighter,” Savannah stated firmly. “When all is said and done, I believe she’ll have taught us a thing or two about strength.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Cooper agreed, but still felt frightened for her friend. She was also tempted to keep Savannah on the line and tell her about Miguel Ramos and the nightmares she’d had all week, but the moment passed.
In these disturbing dreams, she’d been the person tied up inside a car trunk instead of Miguel. Imprisoned in blackness, her body had pitched and rolled as the car hugged a curve or came to a sudden stop. With her mouth covered in duct tape, she struggled to breathe through her nostrils. Her lungs strained, burning for oxygen, and the little air she was able to take in was heavy with the stench of sweat and fear.
For the past few nights, Cooper had awakened abruptly, drenched in sweat, disoriented. She knew that only the resolution of Miguel’s case would restore her peaceful slumber, but the police didn’t seem to have much to go on.
Wi
ser and McNamara had repeatedly questioned the employees of Lincoln’s dealership, as well as those working for the other Love franchises. As of this point, the only information they’d shared with Lincoln was that Miguel’s Social Security card and driver’s license were both forged and that he was likely an illegal immigrant.
Cooper didn’t expect Investigator McNamara to provide Lincoln and Ashley with progress reports, but she assumed, perhaps unfairly, that their repetitious questions indicated a lack of progress. Cooper wondered if Miguel’s murder had become less of a high priority now that the authorities were aware of his possible illegal status. She prayed this was not the case, but she was also conscious that gang-related crimes had escalated during the month of January, and the police had neither the funds nor the manpower to suppress the violence spreading throughout the city.
Her father was reading an article about the gang issue that very morning. As Cooper sat down at her parents’ kitchen table, Earl slid over the Richmond Times-Dispatch.
“Your mama wants me to keep you close today,” he remarked over the rim of his coffee cup. “I don’t reckon you’re in harm’s way, but it’ll ease her mind.”
Cooper had expected this. The day after Grammy’s party, Maggie had called an emergency family meeting, forcing Cooper and Ashley to recount precisely what had happened Monday night.
“I’ve gotta listen to this story while both my girls are sittin’ in front of me,” she insisted. “A mother needs to look her children over after they’ve been through somethin’ that awful. Besides, I wanna be sure that no one’s out to get my babies.”
The afternoon of their meeting, Grammy arrived at the kitchen table first, cold beer in hand, sitting with the expectancy of one awaiting a promising theatrical performance. “I knew you kids were actin’ funny last night,” she stated smugly. “You two didn’t pick at each other—not even once. Only somethin’ big could make sisters forget to squabble.”
Despite their retelling of events, neither Ashley nor Cooper was able to provide their family members with a satisfying conclusion to their story.
“This case may never get solved.” Ashley’s hands shook as she reached for a paper napkin. “Some murderer is running loose out there!”
Earl put a strong hand on each of his daughter’s shoulders and squeezed. “I’m right glad you two’ve come through this ordeal none the worse for wear.” He then gave Maggie a tender look. “It seems like a sorry accident that the unfortunate young man ended up in your garage, Ashley, but I don’t see that we have cause to get it fixed in our minds that anyone is after you.” His gaze rested on Cooper. “In plain talk—this is now the business of the law. You stay out of the way and try to move on, ya hear?”
At the time, the sisters had murmured their unenthusiastic agreement. But even now, five days later, Cooper was just as troubled by Miguel’s death as she’d been when she first peered inside the Cadillac’s trunk. Whenever her mind roamed, it conjured the image of his newsletter photograph. Inevitably, that smiling, youthful face would mutate into the slack-featured visage she’d gazed down upon in the cold, weak light of Ashley’s garage.
Cooper unfolded the paper and read the headline story on the strife in Richmond’s East End. The reporter commented on the unusual number of shootings in January, stating that the amount of violent crimes committed that month were more like the statistics expected in June or July. The tragic exchange of gunfire by two African-American teens had made the front page of the weekend paper. The two young men, who had fought over the right to spray paint a few square feet of cement, both died at the scene. Theirs was not the only blood spilled, however, for a stray bullet also stole the life of a ten-year-old girl walking home from a friend’s apartment.
The anguish felt by the residents of East End screamed through the black print.
“The police are never going to be able to focus on Miguel Ramos’s case in the face of this horrible tragedy,” Cooper muttered sadly while staring at the photograph of the East End crime scene. A dozen policemen were frozen in investigative postures, scrutinizing the ground, collecting spent bullets, interviewing bystanders. Crime scene tape was tied from every available tree and telephone pole. The image created both a feeling of industry and one of irrevocable waste, for no matter how much energy the men and women captured by the camera expelled, they could not reverse the results symbolized by the bloodstained asphalt.
Earl looked up from his crossword puzzle and tapped on the newspaper in Cooper’s hand. “This scene is startin’ to repeat itself. It’s no good. No good at all. Little girls dyin’ from stray bullets, young men killin’ one another because someone spoke a sharp word, and drugs everywhere, poisonin’ people’s minds.” He touched Cooper’s fingers lightly. “I’m not sayin’ Miguel’s death isn’t important, but it’s not spreadin’ fear like a wildfire.” He put his pen down. “How ’bout we get outta here? Grammy wants me to take her to Wal-Mart, and you don’t need to be readin’ this stuff right now.”
“Wal-Mart? On a Saturday?” Cooper was astonished. “It’ll be a zoo.”
Smiling thinly, Earl nodded. “Don’t I know it. I reckon Grammy wants to get her kicks by ramming a few folks with her cart. Maybe she’ll behave if you come along.”
With Nathan away for the day visiting a former college roommate in Northern Virginia, Cooper had no plans, so she agreed to accompany Grammy and her father to the megastore.
From the moment they passed through Wal-Mart’s sliding glass doors, Grammy was deliberately impish. She shuffled along behind her cart at a snail’s pace, stopped abruptly in the middle of an aisle, huffed and snorted with impatience when another woman blocked her access to the pitted prunes, and spent undue amounts of time choosing the perfect bunch of bananas—only to rip them apart so that she ended up placing a single banana in her cart.
Earl bore her behavior in stride until they reached the women’s underwear section. As Grammy held up bikini briefs in every color and fabric, demanding to know where the store was hiding the underwear meant for “normal, decent folk,” his face grew redder and redder until he finally shouted, “I’ll be in the hardware department!” and took off at a brisk pace.
Watching him tear past a display of slinky Valentine’s Day nighties, Grammy smirked in satisfaction. She then held up a minuscule black pair of panties made of faux satin and spun them around on their hanger. “Tell me, granddaughter. Is this underwear or an eye patch?” she asked.
Laughing, Cooper managed to find the cotton briefs Grammy wanted. They moved through accessories, where Cooper was attracted to a colorful display of fleece hats, gloves, and scarves. Selecting a lavender cap, she stroked the soft material and then carried it over to a mirror and put it on. She was pleased that the material covered her entire head, obscuring her hair entirely.
Trish is going to get cold without her thick hair, she thought and placed the cap and the matching scarf and gloves into the cart. After a moment’s hesitation, she selected a turquoise set for herself.
Her shopping completed, Grammy declared she was now in a great hurry to get back home. Apparently, one of her favorite Spencer Tracy films would be coming on TV at one o’clock and she wanted to eat her lunch and be “good and settled” on the sofa with her cashmere blanket and Little Boy before the movie started.
The second they reached the front of the predictably long checkout line, Grammy stamped her feet and sighed in annoyance over the cashier’s inability to insert a fresh roll of register tape into her machine.
“I’ve seen slugs with more get-up-and-go,” she complained too loudly.
Cooper shushed her and focused on unloading the cart. As she did so, Grammy reached out and grabbed the lavender fleece cap from her hand. “That ain’t a good color for you. This is an old lady shade.”
“It’s not for me.” As the cashier struggled with the register tape, Cooper quietly explained that Trish had breast cancer and, because of the chemotherapy, was losing her hair. “She’s asked us to come
to her house tomorrow because she’s ready to shave it all off. I figured she’d really feel the chill without something warm on her head.”
Grammy studied Cooper’s face. “You’re right worried about your friend, ain’t you? Don’t worry, girlie. Love’ll see her through.” She cradled the lavender cap gently in her hands and then brought it to her face, murmuring into the fabric. Cooper heard her say, “Oh, Lord, let Trish dwell in Your shelter. Be her refuge, her fortress, her covering, her shield. Command Your angels to guard her. Amen.”
Cooper quickly looked away so that Grammy wouldn’t see her tears, but her grandmother had turned her attention to the eye-level candy displays lining the checkout aisle. “I’m gonna have me a Baby Ruth. After all, you never know when you’re gonna draw your last breath.” She grinned and tossed three candy bars onto the conveyor belt. Slapping her purse on the bagging end of the checkout area, she scrutinized the cashier until the young woman withered beneath her gaze.
Once Grammy’s plastic bags were packed in the cart and she’d paid the cashier using a wad of mangled singles, she dug one of the Baby Ruths out of the cart and handed it to the surprised cashier. “Here ya go, sweet girl. If you’ve gotta deal with folks like me, I reckon you deserve a little treat.”
Earl appeared in time to witness the exchange and gave his mother an imploring look. “Got one for me, too?”
“No, I do not! With all the cookies you eat, it’s amazin’ you’ve got any teeth in your jaw!” Grammy snapped and marched through the sliding doors.
“Ouch.” Earl clutched his chest as though he were wounded and then smiled at Cooper. “She’s a tough nut, your grandma, but I love her more than my new socket wrench.”
“I’m glad Wal-Mart has proved to be so entertaining,” Cooper commented wryly, but silently confessed that the errand had been exactly what she’d needed. Trailing her father to the car, she felt a rush of affection for her quirky family members.
The Way of the Guilty Page 7