Coop Knows the Scoop

by Taryn Souders

  “Forget dresses. Let’s look where the skeleton was.” Justice grabbed Liberty’s arm and dragged her with him. “I want to see if there’s any bones left.”

  We walked over and stared silently into the grave that had kept Gran’s body a secret for so many years. Shriveled roots and twigs poked through the clay sides. They looked like nightcrawlers who’d wiggled halfway through, got tuckered out and quit, and then dried up in the hot Georgia sun.

  But that was it.

  No bones.

  No torn piece of fabric from the dress she was found wearing.

  No jewelry.

  Not even a solitary tooth.

  Nothing to show Gran had lain there until she was no more than a bony frame.

  Chapter 13

  Tuesday morning Lib, Jus, and I crossed Willis Street and walked into the schoolyard.

  “Aw, crud.” Justice rubbed his forehead. “We had homework, didn’t we?”

  “What do you think Coop and I were working on yesterday? We had five math questions. And it’s a little late to be asking about homework, don’t you think?” Liberty scowled.

  “Why can’t Miss Grupe ease us into homework like a normal teacher? I’m going to head to the library and do it real quick.” He took off.

  Liberty glanced at her watch.

  “I’m going to the library too. I told Mrs. Garcia I’d be her aide this year.”

  “See ya.” I hoisted my backpack onto my shoulders and headed for Miss Grupe’s class.

  Had I known Beau would be the only other kid in the room when I walked in, I would’ve joined Liberty and Justice in the library. He sat at his desk.

  “Hey, Chicken Coop.” His lips curled. “Your grandpa locked up yet? I bet the police will get him for murder this time.”

  I slammed my books on the desk and glared. “What did you say?”

  He stayed in his seat. “You heard me.”

  I took a step toward him. “What’s wrong, Bo Peep? Scared to repeat it?”

  He slid from his chair. “Scared of you? Not likely.”

  We stood inches apart, glowering.

  Miss Grupe walked into the room carrying a tower of history books. She peeked around the stack. “Ah, good. Helpers. You two can pass these out for me.”

  I glared at Beau before taking an armload of books from Miss Grupe. I imagined each desktop was Beau’s face as I dropped a book onto it.

  Within moments, the bell rang, and the hallway filled with the sounds of footsteps, voices, and lockers opening and shutting.

  Justice walked in and slid into the seat behind me. “Finished just in time.”

  Liberty nearly plowed over Miss Grupe, who now stood in the doorway talking with Mrs. Riddle from next door.

  “Sorry, Miss Grupe!”

  Liberty gripped her ever-present baseball in her hand and motioned to Justice and me as she slid into her seat. She did a double take at me. “Who filled your boots up with manure?”

  “Beau’s just being a jerk.” I sat in my seat. “What’s up?”

  The ball arced over her head and she caught it without even looking. “Guess what I overheard Leroy telling Mrs. Garcia?”

  Leroy was the janitor, and aside from his dislike of being called Mister Leroy, his claim to fame was being related to Earl. The funeral parlor owner and Leroy were cousins—twice removed on Earl’s mother’s side according to town gossip.

  She tossed the ball the opposite direction and blindly caught it again.

  I propped my elbows on my desk. “What?”

  “Leroy said the police had been around asking questions.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  She poked Justice. “Remember that whole fiasco involving Rutherford Willis’s ‘long-lost uncle’ a few years back?” Into the air once more the ball flew.

  Justice nodded. “It satiated the Feather sisters’ need for gossip for quite a while.”

  The baseball fell to the floor. Liberty never dropped a ball.

  “Satiated.” She whistled low. “Wow, Justice. And you used it correctly too.”

  “I learnt it yesterday.” He interlaced his fingers and stretched his arms forward proudly.

  “Learned,” Liberty and I muttered together.

  “Can we get back to the police asking questions and the ‘long-lost uncle’ bit?” I said. “I’ve never heard this story before.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Liberty bent down to pick up the ball and then looked toward the door, probably to make sure Miss Grupe and Mrs. Riddle were still talking.

  Beau hung out in the back of the room, which was good. The last thing I wanted was him listening to anything involving Tabby.

  “Long time ago some guy waltzed into town claiming to be Mr. Rutherford Willis’s long-lost uncle.”

  Justice took over. “Mr. Willis refused to share any of the family fortune until the guy proved he really was a blood relative.”

  “How’d he do that?” I asked.

  “This is the good part.” Liberty paused. “They dug up old Mr. D.”

  My eyes widened. “Really? Why not just do a blood test or something?”

  Lib shrugged. “Beats me. Rumor had it Mr. Willis refused to help ‘the charlatan’—that’s what he called him. But when they exhumed old Mr. D’s body, the family noticed the gold ring he was supposed to have been buried with was missing!”

  “Grave robbers?”

  Justice shook his head. “Nope. Earl.”

  “Earl?” I repeated.

  Liberty nodded. “Yeah. When questioned about it, Earl babbled on about how he’d thought the ring was on Mr. D’s pudgy finger when the coffin closed, but after the burial he noticed it still sitting on the mortuary counter. He was ashamed about the mistake and said he intended on returning the ring once a ‘sufficient period of mourning’ had passed, but forgot.”

  Miss Grupe laughed loudly at something Mrs. Riddle said. Thank goodness the bell hadn’t rung yet. I wanted Liberty to finish her story.

  I scooted to the edge of my seat. “Did they believe Earl?”

  “Don’t know. But he scurried to the safe and gave them the ring. It seemed like a harmless mistake at the time, but a few months later when Miss Tilda died—”

  “Of boredom,” Justice interrupted.

  “She was the librarian before you moved here,” Liberty explained. “And she didn’t die of boredom. She was eighty-two and had a stroke.”

  I nodded. “Get to the point.”

  “The point is her diamond brooch disappeared hours before her service. Her relatives called the police.”

  My eyes widened. “Whoa. An investigation?”

  She nodded. “Turned out Earl had already spent time in the slammer—twice! For stealing off the dearly departed. Guess he reckoned if they’d gone on to receive their heavenly treasures they wouldn’t be needing their earthly ones.”

  Justice nudged my back. “But Earl found the brooch right before the funeral.”

  “Yeah,” huffed Liberty. She used finger-quotes. “‘Found’ it. And Chester’s sterling silver dog tag Aunt Leslie sent when we first got him wasn’t on his collar after Earl tried to bury him. He said it was missing when he found Chester, but…” Liberty voice trailed off.

  “You think he stole it?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I think he stole it.”

  “So why are the police talking to Leroy?” I asked. “Why not Earl?”

  “Because,” Liberty said, “Earl’s made himself scarce.”

  I inhaled sharply. “You mean he’s gone missing?” I remembered how the sign on his door read CLOSED yesterday. He’d skipped town? Is Earl the murderer? Had he stolen Tabby’s necklace?

  “Maybe he accidently got himself locked in a coffin again,” muttered Justice.

  Just then, the bell rang, and Miss Grupe waved
goodbye to Mrs. Riddle.

  “There’s more—and you’re going to freak out over this.” Liberty crooked her finger and motioned me to lean in. “Leroy told Mrs. Garcia that the police told him the blood on your grandma’s ring…is Earl’s.”

  My jaw dropped. “Why would Earl’s blood be on her ring?”

  Liberty locked eyes with me. “That’s what the police want to know too.”

  Chapter 14

  After lunch, Miss Grupe waited at the top of the stairs for those of us who needed to put our lunch boxes away in the classroom before heading down to the library. Ambrose and Marcus were staring at Dead Fred and dropped their voices to a whisper when I walked in.

  “Uh, Coop?” Ambrose shifted back and forth on his feet.

  “Yeah?”

  He pointed to Dead Fred behind me.

  I turned. Dead Fred’s hand was raised in greeting, and he had a name tag stuck to his bony clavicle. It read Hello, My Name is Tabby Goodman.

  Gran.

  My gran.

  I stiffened like a stone statue. My breath caught in my throat, but I managed to walk over and rip off the name tag.

  “We didn’t do it, Coop,” Marcus said, walking up to me. “I—I promise.”

  I breathed in deep through my nose. “I know you didn’t.”

  Ambrose joined us. “Someone must have stuck it on there during lunch when the room was empty.”

  I nodded. “I’ve got a pretty good idea who that someone was.”

  I wanted to run to Miss Grupe and show her the name tag. I wanted her to punish Beau. But more than anything, I wanted to give Beau what he deserved. Daddy would’ve handled it on his own, not run off and tattled.

  “Marcus, Ambrose, and Coop.” Miss Grupe’s voice called from down the hall. “We’re waiting.”

  Marcus dropped his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s go.”

  We got to the library, and Beau shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched over to the graphic novels. Warning bells sounded in my head. Leave it alone, they rang.

  I went after him anyway.

  Justice pulled me back. “Dude. Where you headed? Help me find a book.”

  I shook his arm loose. “Just give me a sec.”

  I quickly closed the distance between Beau and me and stood next to him. “You wrote the name tag, didn’t you?”

  He looked up from the book he held. “What if I did? Everyone knows your granny’s the one in the grave. It happened a long time ago, so get over it. It was funny.”

  “Funny?” Heat rose up my neck. “You think it’s funny?”

  “Hysterical.” He smirked. “And you want to know something else?”

  “No.” My hands curled into fists.

  “Your granddad probably put her there and just told people she ran off. Everyone’s thinking it.” Beau leaned in toward me. “I’m just the one saying it.”

  My fist slammed into his nose.

  Beau’s book went sailing, and his feet flew out from under him. I didn’t wait for him to hit the floor. I attacked with the ferocity of a rabid raccoon, my fists pummeling into his sides.

  Beau tried to shove me off. “My nose!” he howled. “You broke my nose!”

  He managed to land a hard punch to my eye. It felt like his whole fist went through my head. Bookshelves and people’s faces blurred around me. My eye vibrated with pain, but I kept hitting.

  “Cooper Goodman!” Miss Grupe’s voice rang through my ears. “Stop now!” She yanked me off Beau and shoved me into a chair. “Don’t move,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Mrs. Garcia arrived with a handful of tissues. Beau sat up and grabbed them from her hand.

  “Hold your head up, Beau, and pinch,” Miss Grupe instructed, leaning down to look at his face. “It will help stop the bleeding.”

  Mrs. Garcia hurried toward her office. “I’ll grab more tissues,” she said over her shoulder.

  Beau glowered. Without a doubt, I was on his menu. My classmates circled around us, not daring to say a word except for Liberty and Justice. That’s because she was curious, and he was just oblivious as to when to keep his mouth shut.

  “What happened, Coop?” Liberty asked.

  “Yeah,” said Justice. “This is the most excitement I’ve ever had in the library.”

  “Justice!” Miss Grupe stood. “Fighting isn’t excitement. It’s disgraceful.” She turned to me. “I never expected this kind of behavior from a Goodman.” She shook her head, walked over to the library desk, and picked up the phone. I heard the words “Principal Bartberger,” “Cooper Goodman,” and “fight.”

  Mama and Gramps would be angrier than hornets in a soda can. I sagged in the chair. My hand hurt from punching Beau. My eye throbbed. There was blood on my shirt, but it wasn’t my own. That made me feel a little better, though I knew it shouldn’t have.

  Beau stopped staring at the ceiling and turned his face to me. His beady eyes became narrow slits. “You still go to church, Chicken Coop?”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “So?”

  “So you’d better give your heart to Jesus ’cause your butt is mine.” He took away the tissues. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll wish you were in that dirt hole with your granny.”

  Chapter 15

  “What in blue blazes were you thinking?” Mama’s words sliced through the air like a thrown dagger. Both she and Gramps had left the bookstore to meet with Principal Bartberger before bringing me home to serve my two-day suspension sentence.

  She hadn’t breathed a word in the car she was so angry, but now that we were home, her vocabulary was coming on strong.

  She threw her keys onto the kitchen table. “Well, Coop?” Both hands rested on her hips. “Let’s hear it.”

  “I was—”

  “I don’t want to hear it!”

  “But you just—”

  “Don’t argue with me, Cooper Steven Goodman.” She marched down the hall into the living room.

  I glanced at Gramps. He always took my side in an argument. He’d understand why I had to fight Beau. But instead he crossed his arms and stood silent. I swallowed the lump of disappointment and followed Mama.

  “Absolutely unbelievable.” She paced in front of the fireplace. “As if we didn’t have enough on our plates as it is.”

  I knew that last remark was about Gran. Even though Gramps had tried to act like life was “business as usual,” I could tell he was a train wreck inside. Mama had put on a happy face for both of their sakes.

  “I was defending the family honor!” I almost stomped my foot but stopped just in time. I clenched my fists instead.

  “Honor?” Gramps walked over to the recliner and sank into the chair. “Where’s the honor in starting a fight?”

  I straightened and faced Gramps. “I didn’t start it.” Sure, I threw the first punch, but Beau accused Gramps of killing Gran and dumping her body in that hole. I was being a man and standing up to him. “And there is honor in fighting. Daddy fought.” I turned and jabbed my finger at the glass box that held Daddy’s flag.

  “Cooper Steven Goodman, that’s enough!” Mama’s eyes simmered with a mixture of anger and disappointment. “You will not talk to your grandfather that way.”

  Gramps sighed and stared at the floor before looking up at me. “Coop.” His voice was a total contrast to Mama’s outrage. “Your father fought to help others, not to help himself.”

  Mama rubbed her temples. “The fact that you would beat up Beau Knapp is unthinkable! The poor kid has so little going for him in life as it is, and you go and pull a stunt like this.”

  She grabbed her keys from where she had dropped them on the kitchen table. “And on top of everything, the delivery truck is due at the coffee shop any minute. We can’t stay and babysit you.”

  “I don’t need a babysitter!�
�

  “You sure?” Gramps stood. His voice was low and soft. “Because your actions this morning proved otherwise.”

  I winced.

  Mama nodded. “We’re going back to the store. You will stay here. There will be no television or anything electronic. You will clean the entire house and do all the laundry. Once you finish, read a book or start on the schoolwork Miss Grupe gave you.” She jabbed her purse under her arm. “And you will not leave. Understand?”

  I slouched against the wall. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And if there’s something in your laundry that doesn’t fit anymore, wash it, and set it aside for the police clothing drive,” she added.

  I trudged upstairs to my room after she and Gramps left and flung my backpack across the floor. To make life worse, now I couldn’t meet Justice and Liberty in the darkroom to develop the photos from Gran’s camera. I flopped on my bed and stared at the ceiling. Beau was lower than a snake’s belly. He got what was coming to him. The whole idea of Gramps being responsible for Gran’s death and then burying her was stupider than the look on Beau’s face right before I punched him.

  I sat up and stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eye wasn’t swollen shut yet, but it was turning an ugly shade of purple. A few drops of Beau’s blood had stained my shirt. Well, good. I peeled it off and tossed it into my laundry hamper in my closet, and caught sight of the box of Dad’s Hardy Boys mysteries I’d shoved there Saturday night.

  That’s what I’d do—go through Dad’s box. Mama told me to read, and it didn’t matter I’d already read every Hardy Boys mystery back in fourth grade. Rereading them would be like spending time with Dad. Touching something he’d held was as close as I would ever get to feeling him again. And I bet he would’ve understood why I punched Beau.

  Of course, I’d have to clean the house and do the laundry first. Mama would tan my hide if she and Gramps came home and found those things not done.

  I might have just gotten myself suspended from school, but I wasn’t dumb.

  * * *

  In between laundry loads I vacuumed, dusted, and wiped down every surface that had the potential to reflect Mama’s irritated face if she found it not done to her standards. It was three hours of my life I’d never get back, but at least I could spend the rest of the afternoon reading since I’d finished all my chores. I just had to wait for the final load of Gramps’s laundry to finish drying. He had a ton of shirts—most dotted with coffee stains. I wondered if he’d notice if I donated a few to the clothing drive.