The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (5 page)

“It’ll be a struggle,” Savannah said seriously. “But I have faith in you, Jake, and we’ll encourage you in any way that we can.”

Buoyed by her warm response, Jake’s face broke into a smile and he seemed to grow an inch taller in his chair. Cooper noticed for the first time that he was a fairly attractive man behind his stubble and slightly unkempt hair.

“Hey, you have a partner in withdrawal,” she whispered to him. “I just threw a full pack of Camel Lights into the garbage can outside the back door.”

Jake gave her a high five and offered her a piece of nicotine gum, but she brandished the package of Wrigley’s within her purse and, after exchanging collaborative grins, the pair turned their attention to Bryant.

“My best beginning was the day of my wedding,” the meteorologist stated, pushing a wave of blonde hair off his forehead. Cooper thought that Bryant looked like he should be on a beach in California instead of in a church in Richmond.

“I’m not trying to sound crass, but which wedding?” Savannah inquired.

Everyone giggled and Cooper took the opportunity to peek over at Nathan. He was refreshingly quiet. He simply listened to the others and sat in his chair with an aura of calm attentiveness that Cooper found appealing. She noticed that he tucked his feet under his chair as far as they would go and wondered if he was self-conscious about either his height or his incredibly large shoes.

“The first one,” Bryant said without ire. He was undoubtedly used to answering questions from the local media about his marriages and divorces. Cooper realized that he was probably closest to her in age. Everyone else seemed to be in his or her late thirties.

How many marriages could the guy have had and barely look a day over thirty?
she wondered.

“The wedding most people don’t know about because the marriage was annulled the next day,” Bryant continued.

“Sounds like Britney Spears.” Trish looked at the others. “Wasn’t her first marriage a Vegas hoax?” No one replied, and the subject of Britney’s marital past was quickly passed over.

“I loved my first wife more than I’ve ever loved any woman,” Bryant declared with feeling. “But she was pregnant when we married and, as it turned out, I wasn’t the father. She left me for
him
the day after our wedding.”

“That’s awful!” Trish cried, while the rest of the members nodded in sympathy.

Savannah turned her face toward Nathan. “What’s your most recent beginning?”

“Um.” He tucked his feet a few inches farther under the chair. “This is a bit embarrassing, but I just joined an online dating service.”

Trish licked her shellacked lips and leaned forward eagerly in her seat. “Which one?”

Nathan ran his fingers through his hair and mumbled, “RichmondMatchmaker.com.” He looked at Cooper. “I design and develop websites, so I spend most of my time in front of my computer. Figured I may as well date on the computer too.” He clasped his long fingers together and raised his eyebrows. “Your turn, new girl.”

Cooper traced the rim of her coffee cup. “I met a woman who’s a member here. She invited me to come and it felt like something I wanted to try.”

Jake raised his brows. “You looking for a church to join?”

“To tell the truth, I’m not sure what I’m looking for,” Cooper said. And when the Sunrise members continued to gaze at her expectantly, she reluctantly added, “The man I expected to marry broke up with me. I’m trying to get over him—to move on. I thought coming here would help.”

“What happened?” Nathan asked sympathetically.

Encouraged by his tone, Cooper pushed the words out rapid-fire. “My ex-boyfriend is a home inspector. He liked to drink beer, and toward the end of our relationship he was drinking way too much. He started showing up to work late or sometimes not at all. One day he went to a home inspection totally drunk and it didn’t work out so well.”

Trish made a disapproving
tsk-tsk
noise. “Not good.”

. “Exactly,” Cooper agreed. “Drew threw up all over the client’s antique Oriental rug. He and the client, a guy named Trent, called each other some ugly names, punches were thrown, and finally a neighbor called the cops. Both men spent the night in jail, and when it was time for their bail to be posted . . . ah, now I’m at the hard part . . .”

“You’re doing great,” Jake coaxed. “Go on. Get it out.”

Cooper rubbed the smooth surface of the desktop. “This gorgeous redhead named Anna Lynne White came to bail out her brother, Trent.” Cooper fought to keep her voice even. “She also paid for Drew’s bail and announced to both guys that the price for her having sprung them was that they would both have to go to church with her straightaway. That was her deal. Trent did as his sister asked but the big surprise was that Drew did too. Apparently, Drew fell in love with Anna Lynne White the second he laid eyes on her. That spelled the end of our relationship.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Thank you for sharing with us,” Savannah said and some of the other group members echoed their gratitude. “We welcome you to our group with open hearts and open hands. If you’re ready for a new beginning, then we’ll do our best to support you as you step onto this unfamiliar road. Friends”—Savannah held out her hands—“let’s pray for our friend Cooper.”

Cooper watched as the other Sunrise members bowed their heads and closed their eyes.

They’re doing this for me,
she thought, amazed.

Just as the group finished praying, a plain-faced man in an expensive but rumpled suit entered the room. Everything about him spoke of excess, including the gold rings stuffed onto his sausagelike fingers, the loose double chin, and the swell of an overfed belly that strained the rich material of his double-breasted blazer. The large man gripped a Tupperware cake holder in his free hand as if it offered protection. Cooper could detect smudges of chocolate frosting shadowing the inside of the lid.

“Quinton?” Savannah lifted her nose in the air. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” Jake confirmed, his rough voice sounding worried. “What’s wrong, big man?”

Staggering toward the closest empty seat, Quinton fell into the chair, as though being shoved down by the force of a great burden. Cooper felt the atmosphere in the classroom transform. Gone was the light-spirited talk and intimate banter. Every set of anxious eyes was glued to Quinton’s troubled face.

“Savannah,” he murmured in an anguished tone, “a member of our congregation has been killed.” He put his face in his hands and, without looking up, said, “And Wesley Hughes has been arrested for murder.”

As a collective, the group gasped.

Quinton stared down at his trembling hands and tried locking them together. His agitated gaze shifted and alighted on Cooper. “Forgive me.” He spoke directly to her. “I think I’m still in shock. I’m Quinton.”

Jake rose and left the room, returning seconds later with a paper cup filled with water.

“Who was killed?” Jake asked, putting a hand on Quinton’s shoulder.

Quinton took a sip of water and then put down the cup and sighed. “I don’t know how to tell you this, because she was such a sweet and generous woman. She was . . .” He trailed off and dropped his gaze.

Cooper felt a deep sense of dread creep into her belly and rise inside her chest. She couldn’t tear her gaze from Quinton’s pained face, even when the anguished man looked up and stared at Cooper’s peculiar eyes.

“Oh, my friends,” he cried softly. “It’s Brooke Hughes. And her husband has been accused of killing her.”

Trish closed her gaping mouth and then opened it again. “Brooke! I just saw her at the Women’s Fellowship luncheon last week. She was happy, healthy. This is insane. She can’t be dead! And Wesley wouldn’t hurt a hair on her head!”

Quinton nodded, reluctant to confirm what he knew. “One of the officers who responded to the 911 call is a member. I just overheard him in the teachers’ lounge telling Pastor Matthews what he knew.” He pressed his fingers into his eyes to stop his tears from escaping. “The cops think Wesley’s responsible.”

Jake sprang to his feet, his face filled with fury. “Wesley Hughes wouldn’t step on a snake even if it bit him. He’s been an elder at this church for years. Those idiots have the wrong man!”

“Friends, friends!” Savannah called out urgently. “Reach out to one another. Hold on tight. Now is the time for prayer. Then, we’ll come up with a plan of action.”

The Sunrise Bible Study members grasped one another’s hands. Cooper hastily closed her eyes and took the hands of Jake and Savannah. They squeezed hers firmly and she took comfort from the warmth of their skin.

Savannah prayed for strength and discernment and for help in discovering the truth. She also asked for comfort for Wesley Hughes, which told Cooper that Savannah also refused to believe that he was capable of killing his wife.

Why Brooke?
Cooper demanded silently, feeling a surge of anger.
Who would murder such a lovely person?

At that moment she was grateful to be in this circle of strangers.

Even after their prayer was over, the Bible study members did not release one another’s hands. They stayed still for a long time, wordlessly mourning the loss of Brooke Hughes. And in the silence, no one let go.

3

Music began to float through the halls of the school wing. It had an uplifting and slightly frenzied beat, as though hurrying its listeners to quickly find seats in the chapel before the melody came to an end.

Trish raised her head in the direction of the muted strains and dropped her friends’ hands. “The band’s started. I’m supposed to be a greeter today, but I don’t think I can do it now.”

No one moved. They were still paralyzed by Quinton’s news.

Cooper felt like her own limbs had turned to stone. Brooke Hughes was dead. How could it be possible? She recalled the elation on Brooke’s face a little over a week ago as the married woman envisioned celebrating her anniversary with her beloved husband. Her state of marital bliss was utterly genuine, of that Cooper was certain. And yet, Brooke had been upset too. She had behaved like a person on the verge of a significant and possibly dangerous act. Still, Cooper was certain that Brooke’s agitation was work-related and that her positive remarks about her relationship with her husband were true.

How could anyone harm such a caring and delightful person? Cooper felt the heaviness of grief spread through her body as she fixed her eyes on the floor and listened as the other members vocalized their feelings.

“I’ve only met the Hugheses a few times,” Nathan spoke into the silence. “But I got the impression they were both really involved with Hope Street. I know that Brooke organized several mission trips, and isn’t Wesley one of the church’s stewards?”

Savannah nodded. “Yes. He’s been on our Leadership Team for years.” She offered Nathan a small smile. “Wesley, Brooke and I were in the Newcomers’ Class together many years ago. We’ve shared many experiences since then, and I view their friendship as one of the great gifts of my life.”

Turning to Cooper, Savannah said, “I’m sorry that your first experience with our church has been . . . marred.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Cooper assured the group leader while thinking that she had never wanted a cigarette so badly in her life. “I just wish there was something I could say or do.”

“Me too.” Jake twisted his hands together. Cooper noticed that his nails had been chewed right down to the beds. The skin on his hands looked raw and the palms were covered with tough, discolored calluses. He picked at one of these, his eyes flashing with anger. “This is crazy! Wesley was devoted to Brooke.”

“It’s true.” Bryant sighed. “Unlike me, those two knew how to make a marriage work.”

Trish shot him a surprised look. Then she smoothed her skirt and tugged on her form-fitting blazer as her face took on a determined expression. “Well, we can’t help unless we’re more informed. Do you know details, Quinton? How was Brooke . . . taken from us?”

Quinton clutched his thick study Bible as though he could draw strength from its worn and supple cover. “I overheard Jack Burgess—the policeman I mentioned before—telling Pastor Matthews that Brooke was shot. Wesley’s prints were on the gun, though he swears they never owned a firearm. He said he was the only one in the house with her. There were no signs of a struggle, a burglary, or forced entry.”

“Where was Wesley?” Bryant asked.

“He was upstairs taking a nap. He slept deeply because he had a cold and had taken a dose of Benadryl. Not only that, but he was wearing earplugs to help him sleep. When he woke, he went downstairs for a cup of coffee and found Brooke.” Quinton swallowed hard. “Wesley saw the blood pooling around her head and the gun near her hand. His instinct told him to push it away—said it was like the feeling you get when you’re near a snake or a rat. You just have to get it away from you. That’s why he touched it.”

Trish shook her head. “Wesley’s a pacifist.” She turned to Cooper. “He owns a store for wild birds. It offers all kinds of food, baths, houses, and ornamental things for the garden. He’s a total nature lover. A very gentle man.”

“He reminds me a bit of Francis of Assisi,” Savannah added, her voice laced with sadness. “I remember attending a meeting at their house last summer. We could barely hear one another over the birdsong.”

“And now he’s in a cage,” Quinton said mournfully.

Cooper glanced around the circle of somber faces and felt at a complete loss. She was a stranger in the midst of a group of people suddenly stricken with pain and couldn’t think of anything to say.

“We should go to him,” Jake suddenly suggested. “He must be sitting in a cell right now, feeling like he hasn’t got a friend in this world.”

Trish nodded in approval. “Yes! I think we should take action! Obviously, the evidence found at the scene is determining the action of the authorities. Wesley’s were the only prints found on what’s probably an untraceable gun and he was the only one in the house with Brooke when she was killed, but
they
don’t know this man.
They
don’t realize that he isn’t capable of violence.”