The Root of All Evil (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 4) (8 page)

“Do you want to talk about it?”

For a moment, Cooper thought this might be the perfect time to talk about something else—about them and their relationship. He seemed so warm and loving this morning. Maybe he was in a better mood today than last week. But she quickly decided against it; that was a conversation better had in the privacy of a home, when they could really open up, cry and yell if they needed to, without anyone overhearing.

She cleared her throat. “Did you notice how he acted today?”

“He seemed to be himself.”

“Humph,” Cooper snorted. “I guess that’s true. He’s never been the most friendly person. When I first met him, he yelled at the top of his lungs because I called him Edward instead of ‘the Colonel.’ Just when I think he’s changed, he gets weird again. Like today, he sure gave Ms. Donna the cold shoulder.”

Nathan pursed his lips pensively, as if he struggled to find the words he wanted.

“What?”

“It’s just that . . . is it really surprising?”

“That Edward can be a jerk? I guess not.”

“Not that. Is it surprising he doesn’t like Ms. Donna? She came in—a nice motherly woman—and started talking about her daughter and grandkids. When you met Edward, it was because you were investigating his father’s murder, and Edward never had a great relationship with his dad.”

A wave of guilt washed over Cooper. She could feel her neck and face flush red with shame. She thought of Mr. Crosby—Edward’s father—whom she’d met shortly before his death the year before. Edward was in prison then, and that was how Cooper met him—trying to find information to track down his father’s killer. Edward had been a different man then, imprisoned for selling drugs. Even now, though Edward was changing, his heart was still hardened toward his deceased father, a man he’d never been able to depend on, a man who’d never treated him with fatherly affection.

“Of course,” Cooper sighed, slapping her palm against her forehead. “Ms. Donna reminds Edward of his father . . . probably of his mother, too. She’s the model parent and grandparent, whereas Edward has no parents, no grandparents and no fond memories. Of course he dislikes her. How could I have missed that?”

“It’s probably because you have such a good relationship with your parents,” Nathan replied, sliding his arm around Cooper’s waist. “You don’t think of someone else being haunted by a bad relationship.”

“I should apologize to him.”

Nathan shook his head. “Whatever you said, he’s already forgotten it.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s a guy. And he’s Edward.”

Cooper smiled. “It’s that simple, huh?”

“Yep. That simple.”

Arm in arm, they moseyed to the chapel and sat in the back beside Savannah and Ms. Donna. The worship team—led by Quinton’s girlfriend, Gloria—performed a song. Cooper shot a glance over at Ms. Donna, who smiled and clapped her hands along with the song, and thought about Nathan’s explanation for Edward’s cold shoulder. His past had to be the reason for it. Why else would Edward act that way toward a kind woman, and a stranger at that?

• • •

Monday and Tuesday passed uneventfully. Cooper went to see Ashley Monday evening and spent Tuesday late in the office, catching up on paperwork. While Cooper brushed her hair before work Wednesday morning, her cell phone rang.

Yawning, she answered.

“Cooper? I’m so glad I caught you.” It was Savannah, her speech rapid and tone troubled. “I need you to come to the church.”

Cooper looked at her watch. “I’m about to walk out the door for work. What’s going on?”

Savannah took a deep breath. “I’d rather tell you in person. Please come to the church. Now.”

Cooper recognized the sound of panic and her chest tightened with anxiety. “What’s wrong, Savannah? Are you okay? Is it someone from Bible study? Are they hurt?”

“No, Cooper, but . . . There’s been an incident at the school here. Pastor Matthews needs some friends here, and, well, I think Inspector McNamara will want to speak with you, personally.”

Cooper froze. Inspector McNamara worked homicide. “Savannah, just tell me . . .”

Savannah paused. “There’s a body.”

5

The drive from the Lee house to Hope Street Church was a blur. Questions streamed through Cooper’s mind. Whose body was it? And what happened? Was it someone from church? A stranger? Was Pastor Matthews involved? Why did the inspector want to talk to Cooper?

She pulled into a parking lot full of police cars and flashing lights. The scene was chaotic, frightening. Every expression said the same thing: something horrible had happened here.

Cooper scanned the area. Inspector McNamara stood just off the parking lot, deep in discussion with a uniformed officer. Beside them, three officers had their notebooks open, exchanging observations and information. The police crime scene truck was backed up to the school’s main entrance as techs scurried around, conducting their business.

Cooper’s eyes went to the curb near the truck. There, Savannah and Jake sat on either side of Pastor Matthews, all three heads bowed, whether in prayer or sorrow Cooper couldn’t tell. She started toward them, slowly at first. The closer she got, the better she could see the fear and doubt in their faces. The better she could see, the faster she went until at last she was jogging. Savannah rose and greeted her with a hug, her countenance pale with anxiety.

She pulled Cooper a few steps away from Jake and the pastor and kept her voice low. “I’m glad you could make it,” the artist said. “I know you’ve got work, but . . .”

But Cooper was in no mood for avoiding the issue. “Savannah, whose body is it?”

“It’s the teacher you were talking to last Friday, the one who came to our snack table. The art teacher. Pastor Matthews found her.”

“And she’s dead?”

Savannah nodded. Cooper sank to the curb beside the pastor, with Savannah sitting beside her. For a moment, she sat in stunned silence. She could see Sylvia Cassel’s face so vividly and hear her voice as if the teacher were there now. Less than a week ago, Sylvia had been enjoying Magnolia’s Marvels. Now she was gone.

With a deep breath, Cooper pulled herself together. She reached over and took Pastor Matthews’s hand. Two sad eyes looked up to meet hers.

“I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” Cooper stammered. The sorrow in his face brought tears to her own eyes. “Is there anything . . . anything I can do?”

Pastor Matthews shook his head, but said nothing.

Savannah put her arm around Cooper’s shoulders. “Sylvia’s body was in his office when he came in this morning. It’s been a shock for him.”

“Do you know how she died?”

“The police haven’t told us anything. I’m not sure how much they know.”

Pastor Matthews muttered something as he rubbed his eyes with his fists.

Cooper touched his arm. “What was that?”

He heaved a devastated sigh. “She was stabbed.”

Two shiny shoes and well-creased pant legs appeared before them, and Cooper turned her eyes upward. Inspector McNamara stared back.

“Ms. Cooper,” he said with a salutary nod of his head. “They told me you were coming. Thank you for making the trip.”

Cooper stood on the curb, bringing her closer to the inspector’s height than if she’d been standing on the parking lot. “Savannah here filled me in on what happened.”

“It’s a shame, to put it lightly. First, we’ve got some criminal robbing churches and now we’ve got some criminal killing in one.” The inspector shook his head slowly. “Just a shame.”

“Do you think the crimes are related? The thefts and the murder?”

The inspector put up his hands as if to fend her off. “I’m not saying that. I’m not saying anything like that. I’m just saying it’s a shame. And I’m sorry, Pastor Matthews, but I need you to walk me through what happened today.”

Pastor Matthews cleared his throat. “All right.”

“What time did you arrive?”

“Seven thirty. I usually get here at seven to get everything in order for the day. I try to be the first person here, so my teachers know I’m working hard for them, just like they’re working hard for the kids. But today I was late.” He looked up into McNamara’s face. “You don’t suppose if I’d gotten here earlier—”

McNamara cut him off. “It wouldn’t have helped, so don’t start thinking that way. The coroner says she died sometime last night. We don’t know the exact time of death yet, but you coming earlier today wouldn’t have saved her. Remember that, all right?”

Pastor Matthews nodded weakly.

“Now then, what did you see when you got here?”

“Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Did you see anyone else here?”

“I saw Harry’s car in the teachers’ lot. He’s the science teacher at Hope Street.” The pastor pointed to the appropriate parking lot. “His is the green sedan in the corner. A lot of the teachers park on the other side of the school because they’re closer to their classrooms that way, so I don’t know who else was here.”

“Is Harry usually here around seven thirty?”

“Like clockwork.”

Inspector McNamara scribbled in his notepad. “Did you see the victim’s car?”

“Sylvia rode the bus.”

“Okay. So you drive here. You park. You see Harry’s car. Then what?”

“I unlocked the main entrance.”

“If the door was locked until you arrived, how did Harry get in?”

“All the teachers have keys to the side door.”

“All of them?” McNamara raised a skeptical brow. “Isn’t that a security risk?”

Pastor Matthews shook his head. “I trust all my teachers. Besides, it’s a small school, and everybody has a different schedule. They’re all here during the day, but after school some take work home, others prefer to work at their desks, and a few come in on weekends. I realized a long time ago it’s easier and more efficient if all of them have keys to the side door.”

The inspector arched a disapproving brow. “All right then. Where does the side door lead?”

“To the teachers’ lounge.”

“What happened next?”

“After I unlocked the main door, I went to my office.” There was a catch in the pastor’s throat. He paused for a few seconds before continuing. “I opened the office door. I turned on the light. That’s . . . that’s when . . . I found Sylvia.”

McNamara knelt down in front of the pastor. He smiled kindly and spoke in a low, gentle voice. “I’m sorry, Pastor Matthews. I know this isn’t easy for you, for any of you. But I need you to describe what you saw when you entered the office. Everything. Windows open or closed. Doors ajar. Every detail you can remember.”

Pastor Matthews closed his eyes, breathing deeply, concentrating and remembering. “There are two doors to my office. One leads to the hallway by the classrooms. One goes directly into the chapel. The one to the chapel was closed and locked, but the one to the hallway was unlocked already.”

“Do you usually leave that door open?”

“No,” the pastor replied. He paused and canted his head in thought. “No, I don’t. I don’t leave the door open. I always lock both office doors before I leave.”

“Do you remember locking the doors last night?”

Pastor Matthews shrugged. “I don’t know. I think so, but . . . Maybe I didn’t. I always do, but maybe I forgot. I’m not sure.”

“So it’s possible you left the door unlocked.”

“I suppose it’s possible.”

McNamara made another notation. Despite the pastor’s hesitation, McNamara was patient. “All right. Now, let’s talk about the office. What did you see?”

“Everything looked normal . . . at first. I set down my briefcase on my desk, and then I saw Sylvia, lying on the floor on the other side of the desk. There was blood, and she . . . she wasn’t moving. I checked her pulse and called 911. I sat on the floor beside her until you got there, just in case I’d missed her heartbeat and she . . . I didn’t want her to wake up and be all alone.”

Pastor Matthews paused, his breaths deep and labored, exhausted from relating what had happened. “That’s everything . . .”

McNamara extended a hand and the pastor took it. “Thank you, Pastor Matthews. If you think of something else, please let me know. We’ll find out if the other staff members saw anything interesting.” The inspector stood and turned away.

“Saw anything?” Pastor Matthews muttered. “Saw anything interesting.” He fixated on the idea as if struggling to recall an elusive detail. “Saw anything.” He jumped up. “Wait! There’s something else.”

McNamara returned a steady gaze to him, pen ready at his notepad. “Yes?”

“I’d almost forgotten. It’s so new, I didn’t think of it. But it may have caught something.”

The inspector furrowed his brow. “Pastor Matthews, are you all right? Would you like to talk to a counselor?”

Pastor Matthews ignored the insinuation that he was suffering an emotional break, but Cooper didn’t. She shot a dirty look in McNamara’s direction. The inspector looked back wide-eyed and innocent.

“I can’t believe I forgot,” Pastor Matthews continued. “One of our parishioners installed a security camera Sunday evening.”

The furrow disappeared from the inspector’s face and was replaced by a look of surprise. “You have a security system?
That
is useful information.”

“It’s not a whole system,” Pastor Matthews explained. “Just one camera.” He turned to Cooper. “Your friend Edward suggested it Sunday before church. He must have come to me straight from your Bible study.”

Cooper thought back to Sunday morning, when Edward had stormed off after Cooper confronted him about his treatment of Ms. Donna. “That’s what he was talking to you about?” she asked. “A security camera?”

As Pastor Matthews focused on something other than the image of Sylvia on his office floor, he came alive. “Edward wanted to install an entire system, but I didn’t want folks to be deterred from coming into the church. I didn’t want them to feel like they were being watched. He was quite insistent, though, given the other church robberies. Edward said that the other churches had been entered via a back door, and we really ought to watch every entrance other than the main one. I finally agreed to let him install one camera on one door.”