The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (19 page)

Cindi clearly didn’t like being one-upped. “Oh, I’ve had my share of folks pestering me. This one crazy lady called every day for over two months. I kept telling her that there was no problem with her credit card statement, but she wouldn’t believe me. Finally, I told her to call my boyfriend in the IT department and I thought I had finally gotten rid of her.”

“What happened?” Trish asked, her fascination only slightly exaggerated.

Cindi looked pleased to have completely captivated Trish’s attention. “She actually showed up at my desk with her bill and, get this, an old adding machine! She started adding up her charges and then demanded to see my boss! What a fruitcake!”

Trish uttered a shallow laugh. “She must have been nuts. Did she look like she was on something?”
Trish lowered her voice. “You know, like
drugs
?”

“Oh, no.” Cindi waved off the suggestion just as her nail technician tried to apply the first coat of polish. “She was a tiny old black woman with glasses as thick as my wrist. I have more designer purses than that Hazel lady has teeth,” she added cruelly.

Trish pretended to shiver at the image, but Cooper knew that the mention of Hazel’s name was what had startled her. “What did she want?”

Cindi’s face immediately clouded over. “Oh, the usual complaint,” she said. “But I know she just didn’t want to pay her bill. That’s what it always comes down to. I never actually listened to her crazy idea about what was wrong with her statement and I called security as soon as she started yelling at me and shaking her adding machine in my face. Can you imagine?”

“You poor thing!” Trish cried and patted Cindi’s thin arm. “I hope she never bothered you again.”

Cindi shrugged. “I think she called one more time, but after that she must have given up.” She sighed. “Her account’s closed anyway, so she’s got nothing more to complain about.”

“Wow, she must have really gotten mad to have canceled her card. I don’t know what I’d do without my credit card!” Trish looked horrified by the possibility.

“Me either!” Cindi agreed. “Especially with two kids. They need something all the time. New shoes, new coats, sports equipment. More, more, more. They think I’m some kind of walking ATM.”

Trish nodded. “Exactly. So I can’t see how that woman could cancel her card. Everyone knows Capital City has the best interest rates.”

“We
are
the best,” Cindi said proudly. “But Hazel didn’t cancel her card; someone in
our
company canceled it for her. Had to be a bigwig. I
don’t have that kind of power.”

Trish and Cooper exchanged glances and then Cooper looked down at her feet. Minnie was applying a topcoat of clear polish over two thick coats of Dulce de Leche.

“They’re really nice,” she said, delighted at the result. She liked both the shade and the neatness of her evenly filed toenails.

“You have other shoes?” Minnie pointed at Cooper’s work boots.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Cooper admitted in dismay. “Will my toes get messed up if I put them back in my shoes?”

Minnie nodded. “We give you some,” she assured her client and walked to the back of the salon. By the time she returned with a pair of yellow foam flip-flops, Trish and Cindi had relocated to a new set of chairs stationed at a machine that seemed to dry wet nails using an ultraviolet light.

“I’m going to my boyfriend’s Little League game tomorrow night. He’s a coach,” Cooper heard Cindi saying as Minnie slipped on the foam flip-flops.

“Me too!” Trish declared. “A good friend of mine is an assistant coach. How funny. Which field is your boyfriend’s team playing on?”

“One of those Tuckahoe fields.” Cindi abruptly stood up to leave, obviously not wanting to discuss the subject any further. “It was nice chatting with you. I need to get my kids from the sitter’s.”

“We might run into each other at the baseball field tomorrow. If you see me, don’t think I’m stalking you!” Trish teased. “And if I don’t bump into you, remember to call me if you have any real estate needs. I’m the best!”

Holding her spread fingers in the air, Cindi smiled and opened the salon door with her hip and exited. Once she was out of sight, Cooper stepped awkwardly down from her pedicure chair and shuffled to the front to pay for the service.

“I’ll call the Sunrise members,” Trish said, joining her. “It’s time to learn a bit more about this boyfriend of Cindi’s. Maybe
he’s
the bigwig who closed Hazel’s account.”

“I’ll call Nathan, Savannah, and Quinton,” Cooper offered. “So you’re not on the phone all night.”

“That’s a deal.” Trish glanced at Cooper’s toes. “How did you like your pedicure?”

“I loved it. And it was a treat to see you in your element,” Cooper said. “You did a great job getting Cindi to talk.”

Beaming at the compliment, Trish thanked her, said good-bye, and stepped out of the salon, her heels clicking on the brick walkway leading toward the parking lot. Cooper tried to follow at a similar pace but could only shuffle carefully on her paper-thin sandals.

Settling herself into the Jeep, Cooper noticed the mangled state of the foam slippers. She gingerly removed the temporary flip-flops, tossed them on the passenger seat, and cranked up the stereo. Driving home with the windows down and “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds” blaring out of her speaker, Cooper wiggled her bare feet with pleasure.

12

Thursday arrived with the full glory of spring. Cooper ate a quick breakfast of maple and brown sugar instant oatmeal and then grabbed her travel mug and the gift box she had carefully wrapped in Betty Boop paper the night before.

It was May 8, a famous day in history for Truman fans (he was born in 1884), lovers of aviation (the first transatlantic flight took place), and Beatlemaniacs (the Beatles released their
Let It Be
album in the United Kingdom). May 8 was also Angela’s birthday, though she would tell no one in what year this auspicious event had occurred. Angela’s fellow employees of Make It Work! always tried to make her feel special on this day as a way of thanking her for being the heart and soul of their company. Mr. Farmer paid for lunch and often bought Angela flowers or a small gift on behalf of all the employees.

Several birthday celebrations ago, Angela had declared that she would like to be surprised for her next birthday, as no one had ever succeeded in surprising her. After that statement, made over four years ago, her coworkers had steadily failed to live up to the task. Angela always seemed to know that they had reserved a private room for a luncheon at Maggiano’s, hired a magician, arranged for the Domino’s delivery man to arrive with a large pizza pie—upon which Angela’s name was spelled out with pieces of pepperoni—or splurged on a day’s worth of spa treatments. This year, the gang had decided to buy Angela gifts to celebrate her love of vintage items and Mr. Farmer had promised to order her a cake that would knock her false eyelashes right off.

Driving to work, Cooper listened to her favorite morning radio show,
Breakfast with the Beatles.
She pulled into a parking space just as the final bars of “Hey Jude” were drifting away and felt confident that it was going to be a marvelous day.

Inside the Make It Work! office, Mr. Farmer was fussing over Angela’s desk, where he was apparently trying to decide where to place a gift bag stuffed with colorful tissue paper.

“Good morning,” Cooper greeted her boss.

Mr. Farmer gave her a quick wave and then gestured at the present tucked under Cooper’s arm. “How can we surprise Angela? She knows everything that goes on around here. I’ve made all of the phone calls regarding her cake from my car, but I bet that she already knows the flavor of the frosting.”

Cooper watched her boss as he glanced at the date on Angela’s calendar. May 8 had been circled with red ink. Mr. Farmer, who rarely left the sanctuary of his office, frowned at the calendar. Sweat speckled his wrinkled brow, causing his mostly bald head to look even shinier than usual. “No offense, sir, but you’re not a very good poker player, are you?”

Mr. Farmer nervously scratched the center of his round head and shrugged. “It’s me, isn’t it? I give the secret away every time. What should I do?” He looked so eager to surprise Angela that Cooper took his gift bag from his clammy hand and smiled reassuringly.

“First, we need to hide these presents. Secondly, you should leave for the day. You’re not supposed to be out of the office and Angela won’t expect a sudden absence. She’ll be expecting you to hover around her desk—something you only do when we’re planning some kind of party. Getting you out of Dodge will help with the surprise part.”

“I hover? Really?” Mr. Farmer stroked the dome of his head in bewilderment. “I could take my laptop to the Starbucks down the road. What else?”

“Well, we always do something for Angela around lunchtime. If we all pretend like today’s a regular day, then Angela will think we actually
forgot
her birthday. We’ll surprise her this afternoon, before we all go home.” She looked at her boss. “Can you set up the cake in the back of a van a few minutes before five?”

Mr. Farmer smiled, his pudgy features transformed with delight. “Back of the van. Got it. Good thinking, Cooper. You tell the others the plan. I’d better get out of here before Angela shows up. She’s never been late a day in her life,” he added with admiration.

As her boss scuttled off, Cooper couldn’t help but wonder if her taciturn employer had a soft spot for Angela after all. He was acting more interested in pleasing the office manager than most bosses did. And why not? Cooper thought. He’s single. She’s single. Perhaps Angela’s conspicuous flirting had finally penetrated his hermitlike defenses.

Less than two minutes later, Angela arrived in a cloud of heady perfume and a tight black skirt trimmed with black ruffles. She wore a butter-yellow blouse and a necklace of bulbous white beads. Her platinum hair was puffed out even bigger than usual and her long nails were as red as a clown’s nose. Her four-inch heels created a perky staccato as she sauntered to her place behind her desk. “Good morning, Cooper!” her voice sang out. “Fabulous day, isn’t it?” The penciled lines that formed her eyebrows rose up and down suggestively.

“Sure is. What’s my first stop today?” Cooper asked as cheerfully as she would on any other morning, but gave no indication that the day was special for any reason.

Angela hesitated, searching Cooper’s blank features. She then glanced down at her appointment book. “Short Pump Elementary. Broken copier and laminator.”

“Ugh, I hate those laminating machines,” Cooper complained. “More trouble than they’re worth.”

“Don’t worry, darlin’.” Angela smiled knowingly. “You should be done in time for lunch.”

Cooper collected her toolbox and a set of van keys and was just about to exit the office when Angela blocked her path. “Where’s Mr. Farmer?” she demanded. “He’s never late.”

“He mentioned having some work to do off-site, but that’s all he said.” Cooper shrugged. “You know him. He doesn’t waste words.”

Angela flipped through her appointment book. “I don’t have any off-site meetings written down! Hrmph. I’ll just get him on his cell.” The determined click of her heels sounded across the floor as she returned to her desk.

Hiding her grin, Cooper loaded her tools in the van and drove to the elementary school. As soon as she’d signed the visitors’ log in the front office, the secretary led her to a vestibule outside the principal’s office where the malfunctioning laminator and copier sat.

Cooper frowned. She’d repaired this copier, a Toshiba e-Studio 28, several times before and knew that it was only a matter of time before the outdated and overused machine finally collapsed. The mechanical dinosaur had been fitted with so many replacement parts that it now resembled a science-fair project. Cooper shook her head in sympathy. The copier needed to be scrapped, but she suspected the school lacked the funds to buy a new one.

Working on the spent machine was bound to be depressing, so Cooper decided to tackle the laminator first. She disliked dealing with the contraption that covered everything fed into its aperture with a slick, plastic coating, but she knew that the teachers had come to rely on the machine. The last time Cooper had been called to fix the laminator, an agitated young teacher had found herself stuck in the middle of a massive project in which she was laminating the shapes of each of the fifty states. The machine started malfunctioning as it was fed North Dakota and refused to budge until Cooper arrived. She had had to disassemble the entire laminator and North Dakota had been destroyed in the process, but the teacher had been so pleased that her favorite piece of equipment was fixed that she didn’t mind having to draw a replacement state.

After repairing the laminator again, Cooper began work on the tired copier, coaxing belts, levers, knobs, and rollers into action. As her skilled hands worked their magic, she enjoyed listening to the laughter and delighted shrieks of children coming from the playground. Echoes of a merry song about rainbows drifted down the wide halls and made Cooper smile. She was just replacing the back panel when an older woman holding the hand of a young boy with enormous brown eyes and a freckled face appeared next to the copier.

“Oh, thank goodness!” The woman beamed at Cooper. “Is it ready to go?”

Cooper cast a solemn glance at the machine. “For now. It might make it to the end of the school year, but I can’t promise anything.”

“Is it sick?” the little boy asked, his brows creasing in concern.

Unsure of how to reply, Cooper looked to the teacher for help.

“It’s just old, Brandon. It’s tired and would like a rest. Kind of like me! Now, let’s run off these tulip templates so that we can finish our April Showers, May Flowers board, shall we?”

Brandon nodded, staring at Cooper as she put away her tools.

When his teacher released his hand, the boy edged closer to Cooper. “Why do you have two different color eyes?” he whispered.

After a brief hesitation, Cooper bent down and looked at the boy. “I had an accident,” she said in a soft voice. “And I got a new green eye to replace the blue one I lost. See?” She pointed at the dazzling emerald iris.