She wheeled the empty cart to the closest collection site and paused for a moment, watching the other shoppers walk across the parking lot. She saw couples holding hands, adults helping their aged parents navigate the uneven ground, children raised on their father’s shoulders, and toddlers riding on their mother’s hips. Cheeks were flushed pink by the cold, plumes of cigarette smoke rose in the air, voices chattering into cell phones drifted over the cars, and here and there, the flash of a smile brightened the January day.
Cooper absorbed the signs of everyday living and felt that, suddenly, there was beauty all around. The cars gleamed in the winter sun. People waved to one another. Laughter was exchanged.
Heading back to Earl’s station wagon, Cooper repeated Grammy’s sentiment. “Love will see us through.”
The next morning, Cooper’s mood was buoyed further by Hope Street’s worship service. After the opening hymns were sung to the accompaniment of hearty claps and quite of bit of hip-shaking from the congregation, Pastor Matthews announced that they’d begin the service by baptizing a six-month-old girl. As was his habit, he gently removed the baby from her mother’s arms and walked her up and down the two main aisles, describing the act of baptism while members of the congregation, who simply couldn’t help themselves, grinned foolishly or made cooing noises as the adorable infant passed by.
When minister and child approached the area where the Sunrise members were gathered, the child, whose name was MacKenzie Lynn, yanked Pastor Matthew’s speaker from his ear and stuck it in her mouth. Her happy gurgling filled the auditorium and everyone burst out laughing. Finally, MacKenzie was returned to her parents, words of commitment were spoken, and water was drizzled in a halo pattern over the baby’s head. This was the point in the baptism ceremony in which many children cried, but MacKenzie seemed to love the attention. In fact, when Pastor Matthews closed his eyes to murmur a closing prayer, she reached out, her dark hair still dripping, and grabbed the microphone affixed to his shirt.
“Oooooooo!” Her high voice warbled through the speakers and, though the minister smiled, he kept his eyes shut and finished the prayer.
Following another rousing hymn and a sermon addressing the afflictions of their city, the service concluded. The Sunrise members bypassed the beckoning table filled with donuts and fresh fruit and headed straight for their cars. As usual, Jake drove Savannah in his Mr. Faucet van. Cooper smiled as the plumber gallantly guided their study leader into the passenger seat but then nearly shut her cane in the van door.
Trish’s husband, Phil, was loading their two daughters in the family Volvo as the Bible study group arrived at the Tylers’ stately home. Trish’s girls waved from the backseat and Phil smiled apologetically at his wife’s friends and called, “We’re off to Friendly’s for lunch and then to High School Musical 3. Again!”
Cooper thought Phil and the girls seemed relieved to be leaving.
“It wasn’t hard to chase them off. I’ve been horrible to live with this weekend,” Trish explained from her position on the living room sofa—an enormous sectional in a soft cranberry material. Cooper felt like rushing to her friend’s side and embracing her, for Trish truly looked sick. Her face was puffy and pale, her eyes dull and tired, and her legs were drawn up under her and obscured beneath a woolen throw. Cooper was used to seeing her made-up, attired in a skirt suit and heels, and displaying impeccable posture. Now, Trish was wearing a gray sweatshirt and a faded Richmond Braves baseball cap. She held the blanket against her chest as though it might offer her some protection.
“Should we have lunch and then review this week’s lesson?” Savannah asked. “Are you hungry, Trish?”
“Not really,” she answered weakly. “It’s hard to eat with such a dry mouth, but feel free to bring your food in here. Make yourselves comfortable. I’m through with decorum.” She gestured at the sweatshirt. “I’ve never allowed anyone to eat in this room before, but suddenly rules like that seem plain dumb.”
“I’m serving comfort food today. Bologna and cheese on sesame-seed rolls with a side of Fritos.” Quinton set a paper plate on Trish’s lap. “And here’s a big glass of water to help wash it all down.”
Jake led Savannah to one of the wing chairs and offered to fix a sandwich for her. Bryant settled down next to Trish and put a hand on her shoulder. “How are you feeling?”
“Like total crap,” she replied truthfully. “And I know I look awful.” She picked up her Directing Our Passion workbook. “I didn’t finish the homework, either. The question about Corinthians twelve—the one about spiritual gifts—I couldn’t answer that one at all. Honestly, I don’t know if I have any.”
Nathan wiped Frito dust onto a napkin. “Of course you do. Look how many mission families you’ve found homes for. With all the support your company gives to the church for its East End housing project, your spiritual gift has been to put roofs over people’s heads. That’s no small feat.”
“Yeah,” Jake agreed. “I remember how you bullied me into takin’ care of the plumbin’ for a bunch of those houses. Now that’s a real talent—to get a plumber to work on a Saturday durin’ football season.”
Trish closed her workbook. “I’m sorry. I know this should be the one time to really focus on our study, but I cannot concentrate until we get this out of the way.” She pointed to her baseball cap and then slowly removed it.
Cooper stared at the patches of pink skin peeking through the straggly, lusterless hair on Trish’s head. “It’s awful, isn’t it? I look like a soccer ball.” Her voice trembled and Bryant took her hand in hers.
“You’re going to be the most gorgeous bald woman in all of Richmond,” he teased.
Savannah leaned forward in her chair. “From what I can see, you’re as beautiful as ever.”
This statement, coming from a legally blind woman, made Trish grin.
“Bryant’s Beauty Boutique is open for business.” Bryant got up, fetched his electric clippers from the kitchen, and returned with one of the dining room chairs. Nathan and Jake spread out two large Hefty bags in the center of the floor and placed the chair on top of them. Quinton got a towel from the downstairs bathroom and motioned at the chair. “Your seat awaits you, milady.”
Nodding, Trish threw the blanket from her legs and relocated to the chair. Quinton covered her shoulders with the towel and then kissed her on the cheek. He closed the towel at her neck using a plastic snack bag clip and then backed up, giving Bryant space to work. Not for the first time, Cooper thought about what a caring and wonderful husband Quinton would make.
“I’m scared!” Trish cried.
Cooper longed to remove her friend’s fear. “Do you want me to read something aloud?”
“That would be nice. How about a little Samson and Delilah? That seems appropriate.” Trish’s attempted laugh came out sounding like a strangled sob.
Opening her Bible to Judges, Cooper kept her voice soft and level as she recited Samson’s victories over the Philistines. “Some time later,” she read next, “he fell in love with a woman in the Valley of Sorek whose name was Delilah. The rulers of the Philistines went to her and said, ‘See if you can lure him into showing you the secret of his great strength and how we can overpower him so we may tie him up and subdue him. Each one of us will give you eleven hundred shekels of silver.’ ”
“Damn those shekels of silver!” Jake called over the sound of the buzzer.
Cooper glanced up and was momentarily distracted by the locks of Trish’s red hair raining to the ground. She returned to the narrative, bringing Delilah’s passionate pleas to learn the source of Samson’s strength to life with her voice.
“So the rulers of the Philistines returned with the silver in their hands. Having put him to sleep on her lap, she called a man to shave off the seven braids of his hair, and so began to subdue him. And his strength left him.” Cooper paused, concerned over the negative wording of the latter phrase.
Nathan stooped down in front of Trish and smiled. “
Good thing your strength is elsewhere, huh?”
Trish nodded.
“Sit still, woman!” Jake commanded. “Your barber ain’t that skilled. He might buzz away one of your eyebrows.”
While Cooper read about Samson’s imprisonment, Bryant turned off the clippers and began to gently brush stray hairs from Trish’s neck and shoulders. “Ready?” he whispered in her ear and then pressed a hand mirror in her palm.
The anxiety among the Bible study members was palpable. As Trish raised the mirror and stared at her reflection, they held a collective breath. Cooper dropped her voice to a hush. “Then Samson prayed to the LORD, ‘O Sovereign LORD, remember me. O God, please strengthen me just once more . . .’ ” She trailed off after noticing the tears racing down Trish’s cheeks.
Trish raised a shaking hand to her head and stroked the bristles on her scalp. Her lower lip trembled, but she could not hold back the force of her grief. “Oh, God!” she called out in pain and then buried her face in the hair-covered towel.
Jake jumped to his feet. “Come on now! You’ve got a fine pile of fancy wigs sittin’ on this dining room table. Look!” He raced from the room and returned, modeling a strawberry-blonde wig that fell in shiny waves past his shoulders.
Hesitating, Trish raised her head and watched as Jake sashayed into the room, his hips swaying from side to side. “Y’all can just call me Jane Fonda.” Taking Bryant’s arm in his, Jake batted his eyelashes at the meteorologist. “You can call me Miss Fonda, you sexy thang.” He then sauntered over to Quinton and sat right on his lap. Toying with Quinton’s bowtie, Jake flicked a lock of hair over his shoulders and whispered huskily, “And you can call me Barbarella, big boy.”
Nathan followed Jake’s lead and popped on another long wig in a deeper shade of red. “Do I look like a Desperate Housewife?” he asked coquettishly, tying on an apron from Trish’s pantry. “Come on, Jane. Let’s aerobicize and then make us some cupcakes!”
“Good thinkin’, Bree! We can stir a bunch of vodka into the batter!” Jake answered.
Suddenly, the two bewigged men were doing jumping jacks and leg kicks. Their hair flew wildly about their faces as they grunted with exertion. Slowly, Trish’s quivering mouth curved up into a smile. By the time the men began a series of frenzied abdominal crunches, everyone was laughing. Trish even put down the mirror and relocated to her former place on the sofa.
Cooper took the opportunity to remove the Hefty bags from the center of the room. She stuffed them into the trash can in the garage. As Nathan removed the “barber’s chair,” she handed Trish the lavender hat and scarf set she’d bought the day before.
“To keep you warm.” She hugged her friend tightly.
Trish tried on the hat and examined herself once again in the mirror. She then wrapped the scarf in a fashionable knot at the base of her neck.
“I don’t know what you all are up to,” Savannah said. “But the elephant that was sittin’ in the room is gone now!”
Jake scowled. “Who are you callin’ an elephant? I’ve got thighs of steel!”
Savannah pulled a face.
“I knew you could get me through this moment.” Trish smiled gratefully at the Sunrise members. “Laughter is definitely the best medicine, but knowing I can count on your friendship is what will carry me through the next round of treatments, the next dose of fear.” She sighed. “Oh, I’m grateful that the rest of you haven’t had to experience a week as bad as mine!”
Nathan and Cooper exchanged rapid glances, but they weren’t quick enough to escape Jake’s notice.
“What was that?” he demanded. “You two got somethin’ to tell us?”
“Um . . .” Nathan hedged, leaving the decision to Cooper.
Knowing that it would be a great relief to share the burden of Miguel’s death with her closest friends, Cooper sat down on the carpet and quietly told them about what had happened Monday night.
“I take back what I said,” Trish said apologetically. “Your experience was much worse, Cooper.”
After her friends recovered from their shock and remonstrated with her over not sharing the news sooner, Cooper explained what was truly troubling her.
“It seems like the case is already growing cold,” she said. “And I feel, because I saw Miguel’s body, that I owe him something. He doesn’t seem to have any family—there’s no one to mourn him or to ensure that justice is done on his behalf!” She exhaled, realizing how forcefully she’d been speaking.
Savannah put both her hands into the air and reached out in Cooper’s direction. “Bearing witness to this young man’s death has taken its toll on you. I can hear it in your voice.”
“Yes,” Cooper confessed. “And on my sister, too.”
Bryant helped himself to more chips, but didn’t eat any. Instead, he pushed them around on his plate. “Maybe the police will come up with fresh leads this week?”
Cooper’s eyes flashed. “Maybe isn’t good enough. For a while I wasn’t sure if I should get mixed up in Miguel’s case, but now I’m certain that it’s the right thing to do, and I’d like your help. We’ve conducted investigations before and have made a difference for the better. We can make a difference again, I’m sure of it.” She searched the faces around her. “I’m asking you all to get involved.”
“The first thing to do is to get to know who this Miguel fellow was,” Jake mused. “Sounds like nobody has a real line on the guy.”
“No man’s an island,” Quinton stated while rubbing his round chin. “If we could see where he lived, give his financial records a solid going-over, find out what his hobbies were . . .”
“We might discover who wanted to hurt him,” Nathan finished.
Trish sat up straighter on the sofa, her violet eyes animated. “I can get you into his house, no matter where it is. I think that’s where we should start. You can tell a lot about a person by going through their drawers.” She flushed. “Not that I’d ever do that! I’m a professional realtor.”
Bryant shot her a worried look. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”
“I read the newspaper,” she answered quickly. “And I listened to Pastor Matthew’s sermons via podcast on saving our city. I think we’re being called to act. This group. Right here. Right now.” She jabbed a throw pillow for emphasis.
Cooper nodded. “That’s exactly how I feel. Something outside of myself is telling me not to let this go. That this stranger, this man, was my brother and he was murdered. I just can’t turn away.”
Quinton turned the gold ring on his right ring finger around and around. “All right. I’m in. Just let me get some dessert before we start the planning and scheming part of the afternoon.”
The others echoed his sentiments and joined Quinton in the kitchen in order to receive one of his succulent peanut butter cup brownies. Cooper was too full from the half bag of Fritos she’d consumed to make room for dessert, so she was the only person in the room when Savannah spoke.
“Cooper.” Savannah stroked the worn, supple cover of her Bible. “I find it very interesting that Edward Crosby is part of this story. I believe you may have more than one calling when it comes to this case. His being there that night was no coincidence.”
Reddening, Cooper gazed out the window into Trish’s enclosed backyard where bowed forsythia branches leaned over the brown-speckled grass. Cooper could easily imagine how well the yellow flowers would show against the backdrop of red brick come springtime. She wondered if Trish had planted any bulbs, whether the eager faces of crocuses or the blushing pink of silky tulip petals would open beneath the shelter of the forsythia two months from now.
What will Edward Crosby bloom into? she wondered and then turned back to Savannah.
“I don’t know why, but I have a feeling I’ll be seeing him again, though how Edward can help us is a mystery to me.”
Savannah smiled. “Have you ever considered that you might be the one helping him? Now go fetch yourself a brownie. We’ve got work to do!”
“In the dark, men break into houses,
but by day they shut themselves in;
they want nothing to do with the light.”
Job 24:16 (NIV)
Trish was true to her word, and within two days had an appointment to view the empty apartment directly above Miguel’s. Since they couldn’t directly ask to see Miguel’s place, Cooper had had to concoct an elaborate plan to at least get close to his unit. Ashley had made this much easier by providing her with Miguel’s apartment number as it was written in his Love Motors personnel file. Ashley also agreed to hand over a copy of the young man’s file, but with a reluctance that Cooper didn’t understand. The two sisters met for lunch at their favorite Japanese restaurant in order to conduct the exchange.
After ordering the businessman’s box lunch, a hearty sampling of sesame chicken, fried rice, vegetable tempura, six California rolls, and a halved orange, Ashley slid the file across the table, careful to avoid spilling the pottery tumblers of hot green tea. Cooper noted that her sister had elected to wear a lined trench coat instead of one of her warmer jackets. She wondered if the choice was deliberate or if Ashley was feeling subconsciously furtive.
“What? No sunglasses? No pen that shoots laser beams?” Cooper teased, but Ashley was not amused.
“Lincoln specifically asked me to butt out of this mess, and even though I can’t forget about Miguel Ramos, I can at least feel rotten about deceiving my husband.”
Cooper waited until their waitress had delivered bowls of salad in sweet ginger dressing before speaking. Breaking her chopsticks neatly apart, she rubbed the slim pieces of wood against one another to smooth away any splinters. “You need to tell Lincoln how you feel, Ashley. You two have been brought together by Miguel’s death—don’t let that fade away. Be honest with him.”
Ashley shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Lincoln’s very stressed at work right now. Rumors are flying, sales are down, and his daddy’s breathing down his neck over the salary he’s paying the finance manager he hired back in October. What Lincoln needs is a quiet and secure home environment, and it’s my duty to give him that. After all, he hasn’t discovered shopping therapy.” She opened the neck of her coat to reveal a stunning silver and turquoise necklace. The chunky stones highlighted Ashley’s cerulean blue eyes and her halo of blonde hair. As usual, her skin was flawless and smooth—every attractive feature accentuated by the skilled application of costly makeup.
The Way of the Guilty Page 8