The Way of the Wicked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 2) (27 page)

Finally, after what seemed like hours, there was a gentle tap and Violet peeked around the door.

“Are you okay, honey?”

Cooper managed to drag herself to a standing position. “Yes, ma’am. Let me just wash up and I’ll be right out.”

She scrubbed her hands vigorously and then leaned over and rinsed her mouth directly from the tap, gurgling to remove the foul taste from the back of her throat.

When she returned to the sunporch, Violet handed her a cup of hot tea. “This’ll settle your stomach and help calm your nerves.”

After taking a tentative sip, Cooper blew a mist of steam from the surface of the milky tea and drank another swallow, marveling at the restorative powers of the tea. “Thank you. I feel much better already.” Allowing her body to relax a fraction, she looked at the stricken faces patiently awaiting an explanation. “When I saw that picture”—she quickly pointed at the photograph so as not to hold the sisters in suspense another second—“I knew which of the volunteers was the murderer. One of them—a man—introduced us to a woman he claimed was his grandmother. When I looked at Vera’s face and saw her purple glasses, I knew that this man had introduced us to your
sister.
”

“Are you sure?” Violet asked with an expression of disbelief.

“It wasn’t just the purple rhinestone glasses, though those are pretty unique,” Cooper told her with confidence. “It’s Vera’s eyes. They look out on the world like this man’s Grandma Helen’s did. Her gaze, it’s, it was . . .” Cooper didn’t know how to describe the feeling of vacancy implied by Vera’s stare without offending her sisters.

“Like she wasn’t all there?” Velma suggested.

Cooper nodded. “Kind of absent, yet very content. I met Vera at a potluck dinner my Bible study group hosted for the volunteers. Erik was there, too, but since he hadn’t met your sister before or seen a current photograph of her, he also thought she was this other man’s grandmother.” She gave the sisters a weak smile. “Vera seemed perfectly happy at the dinner. I want you to know that she wasn’t mistreated in any way. In fact, she enjoyed the food and tapped on the table with her fork and knife when the band played.”

Violet grinned. “Vera always loved music. Any loud sounds, actually. Especially after she started forgetting things, she loved to hear a strong rain or a bowling ball striking pins.”

“Or bingo tiles?” Cooper asked, trying to keep the revulsion she felt about Warren’s duplicity out of her voice.

“One of her favorite noises,” Velma agreed. She then looked at Cooper in horror. “So you’re saying that this person, this man who . . . killed my sister, actually led her around like some kind of pet before he took her life?”

Cradling her teacup for warmth, Cooper struggled to come up with an answer. “I don’t know what his motives were, ma’am. And I’m sorry if I’ve caused you more grief by revealing all this. To tell you the truth, and I know this sounds crazy, but this man acted like he really cared for your sister. It was like he really believed she was his grandmother. I can’t explain what caused him to turn from the conscientious person who cut up Vera’s food and fetched her punch and dessert into the monster who took several lives.”

“Of course you can’t, dear.” Violet shook her head in sorrow. “None of us can wrap our minds around how such a twisted soul operates and I doubt we ever will. The Lord will judge this man and he will be found wanting, I’m sure of that.” She returned her hands to her lap and tried to stop them from shaking. “Are the police going to get him now?”

“Yes,” Cooper whispered soberly. “He lives in his family’s farmhouse out in Louisa. They’re on their way now.”

The three women fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Cooper finished her tea and a heavy drowsiness seemed to fall over her. She longed to go home and curl up on the sofa. Perhaps she’d call Nathan and ask him to drive out to see her. She’d like nothing more than to lie in his arms for a few hours, listening to the comforting sound of his heartbeat.

“I’m going to wash this teacup,” she said and stood. “Can I bring you anything?”

Velma shook her head. “We’re going to sit here for a spell. I imagine we won’t have much quiet later on, so we should rest while we can.” She reached out with both of her arms and Cooper put down the teacup and accepted the old woman’s tender embrace. “They’ll release Erik because of you. Bless you, child.”

Cooper then turned and hugged Violet. All three women had tears running from their eyes. Shock, grief, anger, and the desperate desire to cling to hope was too much to hold inside.

“I wish I’d known sooner,” Cooper whispered into Violet’s hair. “Your sister could have been spared. Forgive me.” She sniffed and then, drawing away from Violet, pressed a napkin against her face.

“There is nothing to forgive.” Violet managed a tremulous smile. “You brought daisies, kindness, and justice into our home today. You’re a true friend to us and to Erik.”

Velma wagged a finger at Cooper. “You stay in touch now, young lady. We have a wedding to invite you to once we’re done grieving for our Vera. There will be laughter yet in these rooms if I’ve got any say in the matter.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cooper dried her eyes, cleaned up the tea things, and showed herself out.

Standing on the cement walkway, she was temporarily blinded by the brilliance of the afternoon sun.

“It’s over.” She glanced up at the fiery yellow and crimson-tinged treetops. A breeze whispered through the leaves. And birds flitted among the branches. Cooper stood with her face upturned, relishing the peace. Closing her eyes, she welcomed the cleansing light.

17

As Cooper climbed the steps to her apartment her legs felt like they were made of cement. Looking over her shoulder, she saw a rectangle of warm light spilling from the kitchen window of her parents’ house below. It was a comfort to imagine her mother moving around inside, humming as she added ingredients to bubbling saucepans and then knocking the oven door closed with her hip.

Columbus squawked from within his aviary and Cooper silently promised to walk him later. Inside her apartment, she flopped on the sofa and switched on the television, hoping to find a show that could take her mind off the Door-2-Door killer.

HGTV provided the perfect pictorial balm. As the cameras panned over banks of perennial beds blooming alongside a quaint stone cottage nestled somewhere in the English countryside, Cooper felt her body sink deeper into the cushions. Her lids grew heavy and by the time the show’s narrator turned his attention to the charming home’s herb garden, Cooper was on the cusp of sleep.

When the Beatles burst into song from the speaker of her cell phone, which was buried at the bottom of her purse, she decided to ignore it. Repositioning herself on the sofa, she slipped her arm under a throw pillow, pulled a crocheted afghan over her legs, and prepared to take a restorative nap.

Her cell phone sang again.

“Damn it,” Cooper muttered crossly. She opened her eyes but didn’t get up.

This time, the caller left a message. Cooper’s phone, which had an annoying habit of repeatedly chirping whenever she had a new voice mail, issued its first alert signal.

“So much for a rest.” She swung her legs onto the floor and sat upright for a moment, reluctant to stand up. When the alert sounded again, she threw off her blanket in irritation and grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter.

Bringing the phone to life with the touch of a button, Cooper noticed that the calls had both come from Rector. Regretting that she hadn’t answered him the first time, she was just about to prompt her phone to dial his number when a voice commanded, “I’d like you to put that down. Right now.”

Cooper swung around. Warren was leaning against the door frame leading into her bathroom. He held a snack-sized plastic bag filled with what looked like crushed brown leaves in his hand and his eyes glinted with a strange and ominous light.

Without looking away from Warren, Cooper’s thumb edged toward the send button.

Warren shook the bag and gave her a crooked grin. “Don’t do it or your family will suffer. You see, we had a little tea party while you were out.”

The phone clattered to the floor as the implications of Warren’s words hit home. Cooper’s voice was taut with anger and fear. “What have you done to them?”

Warren shrugged. “I just introduced myself as one of your volunteer friends and invited them to taste my unique blend of Lipton’s Cranberry Pomegranate and Jimsonweed.” He held up three syringes. “But don’t worry, if they’re given a shot of this lorazepam they should make it to the hospital without having a seizure. Jimsonweed can make some people really agitated. Not good for the heart at all.”

“Jimsonweed?” Cooper was confused, and that made her feel even more frightened. “Is that some kind of poison?”

Again, the crooked smile. “It can be. But I’m disappointed in you, Cooper. You’re a country girl. And a gardener. I thought I could count on you to recognize the beauty and versatility of my favorite herb.”

“Sorry, but I don’t.”

Gesturing at her kitchen chair, Warren moved forward a step. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you about it. I guess that you don’t recognize my plant because while you are out in the sticks, you don’t live near any farms. When I was a kid, Jimsonweed grew all over the edges of our cow pastures. It produces pretty purple or white bell-shaped flowers, but my grandparents warned me never to touch them because the seeds hold power.”

“The power to make people sleep?” Cooper asked. “All they need to do is ingest the seeds?”

Pleased, Warren dipped his chin. “Correct. The Indians—excuse me—the
Native Americans
used Jimsonweed in their sacred ceremonies. I think it was the Navajo who had a little chant about it.” His voice changed to a childlike singsong. “‘Eat a little, and go to sleep. Eat some more, and have a dream. Eat some more, and don’t wake up.’ That’s pretty accurate.”

“That’s why Frank Crosby lost a day. You didn’t give him enough to kill him, but he slept for almost twenty-four hours.” Cooper looked away in disgust.

“It wasn’t my intention to have him sleep any longer. Not
that
time. I was trying to get him to tell me where he’d hidden the rest of his Civil War treasures. I knew he was holding out on me and people will spill their secrets more freely after swallowing a bit of my special brew.” Warren fondled the bag of tea leaves. “I got bored trying to understand his gibberish about yellow this and coward that, so I decided that he needed to move on. He was tired of life.”

“Is that why you killed all those people? Because you thought they were done living?” Despite her fears, Cooper wanted to understand Warren’s motives. If she could pretend to be sympathetic and learn about how the poison worked, she might be able to save her family.

“Of course they were done!” Warren spat. “They were poor, lonely, and pathetic. No one should end up in such an undignified state. That’s what happened to my grandparents. They were the ones who raised me. Then age started getting the better of them. They got stupid and weak and gullible and sold our land for nothing.” His hands gripped the tea bag until the leaves were crushed beneath his fingers. “I’ve had to work two jobs since I turned sixteen. All through my twenties, when I should have been having fun and seeing the world, I worked to keep the three of us afloat. And when they got so that I couldn’t take care of them, I calculated how much it would cost to put them in a nursing home and I knew I couldn’t take any more!” He relaxed his hands and made a clear effort to calm himself. “So I gave them a gentle way out.”

“But Mrs. Davenport wasn’t lonely,” Cooper argued softly. “She had her daughter.”

“That witch?” Warren spluttered. “All she wanted was her mama’s jewelry. I was over there once when she was cleaning it. She asked to try on that necklace every time, saying that it looked better on her and that her mama was too old to wear it, but Mrs. Davenport liked to remember her husband by looking at it. She wanted to be with him. She’d told me that a dozen times, so I granted her wish.” He smirked. “And there was no way I was going to let that greedy daughter have the jewelry, so I took it.”

“Please,” Cooper spoke plaintively. “
I
care about my family more than anything in the world. They’re not ready to let go. We’re happy the way we are. Please let me help them.”

“Tell me the story behind your butterfly pin,” Warren said instead, sitting down at the table next to Cooper. “I’ve never seen you without it.”

Cooper stroked the filigree wings as if she could draw strength from the thin silver. “It was my grammy’s. She gave it to me when I was going through a rough time. My grandpa gave it to her for the same reason.”

“Would you say that it’s your most prized possession?” Warren leaned closer to her and Cooper tried not to flinch.

She cupped her hand over the pin, obscuring it from Warren’s covetous gaze. “That’s how you decided what you were going to steal. You took the one thing each person valued most. Mr. Manningham’s coin, Mrs. Davenport’s necklace, Frank Crosby’s sword, and Vera’s watch.”

“I collect a fee for my services,” Warren said blithely. “I also needed portable wealth in case I had to relocate in a hurry.”

“But no one here requires your services. My family makes the most of every day.” Seeing that her words had no effect on Warren at all, Cooper took surreptitious glances around her kitchen in search of a handy weapon. To distract him while she tried to concoct a plan, she asked, “Why Vera, Warren? Why did you treat her like a grandmother and then murder her? I saw you with her at the volunteer dinner. You were so gentle, so attentive. I admired how you cared for her.”

For the first time, Warren seemed uncomfortable. He picked at the red crust of a tomato sauce stain on the edge of Cooper’s table. “I missed Grandma Helen. She and Vera were a lot alike. I could tell Vera anything and she was always happy to see me. Even when she couldn’t remember my name, she’d smile like she knew me.”

Cooper tried to recall the specifics of Warren’s job.

“And as the pickup guy for LabTech, you visit nursing homes. That’s how you met Vera in the first place.”