The Graves of the Guilty (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 3) (13 page)

Scowling, Angela took a step toward the stranger.

“What did you say your name was, Ms. . . . ?”

“It’s
Mrs.
!” the woman snapped, flicking the tail end of her cashmere scarf over her shoulder. She waddled down the hall toward the office and then paused to call over her shoulder, “Mrs.
Farmer
! You got that, blondie?”

8

Cooper stood in front of the full-length mirror in Ashley’s bathroom dressed in a leather miniskirt, knee-high black boots, and a T-shirt embellished with a Chinese dragon.

“Add a tight suede jacket to the ensemble and you’re ready to hit the clubs,” Ashley pronounced. She stood behind her sister and held an enormous pair of silver hoops beneath each ear. “Perfect. These give you a little ghetto edge. Now you need to tease your hair. And make it high. I’ll loan you gel and holding spray.”

Pivoting slightly, Cooper frowned over the amount of leg protruding from the short skirt. “Isn’t this skirt a bit too short? How will I be able to sit down?”

“You’re not going to be sitting.” Ashley laughed. “Jeez. It hasn’t been
that
long since you were on the scene with Drew. You’re only in your thirties, Coop.”

“My
ex
and I went to mainstream hangouts, like the club inside the Sheraton. They played Top 40 music and closed at midnight. After I described Miguel’s clothing style and taste in music to Edward, he told me to meet him at a dance club downtown. And not until ten thirty.”

Ashley yawned. “Good Lord, that’s late! I’ll be in bed with Nora Roberts by then.” She smiled at Cooper. “You’re doing the right thing. I admire your tenacity.”

“Even though I’m going out with Edward?” Cooper asked.

“It’s not a date.” Ashley handed her sister a tube of garnet-hued lip gloss. “He’s helping you investigate, that’s all.”

When Cooper remained silent, her sister stopped rifling through her makeup drawer. Their eyes met in the mirror. “Oh, my word, you’ve got a thing for him.”  

“Edward’s just more exciting because I don’t know anyone like him.” Cooper focused on applying the lip gloss. “He’s intriguing. But it’s
not
a date.”

Ashley sat on the countertop and rubbed moisturizer onto her cheeks. “I saw the way he looked at you, Coop. Be careful. You’d better tread lightly with that man. He’s like a caged tiger released back into the wild. And he’s picked you, big sis, as his prey.”

“You have some imagination, Ashley. Let’s go downstairs. I need to drink twelve cups of coffee if I’m going to survive this night.”

“Rrrrrrrr.”
Ashley made a rumbling noise deep in her throat and curved her hands into mock claws. “Come here, you sexy little rabbit.”

“Knock it off.” Cooper pulled her sister out of the bathroom. They stepped over the trail of shopping bags and headed downstairs. Ashley continued to growl like a tiger.

“Why don’t you save that act for Lincoln? I’m sure he’d find it appealing.”

Upon hearing her husband’s name, Ashley stopped play-acting. “He’s going to be late
again.
I’m sure I’ll be sound asleep by the time he gets home.”

Cooper scooped fragrant grounds into Ashley’s coffeemaker. “Another dinner at Morton’s?”

“With the finance manager. His name is Alex, or something that sounds like that. It’s their second after-hours meeting this week.”

Watching the steam rise from the top of the carafe, Cooper asked, “Can’t they have a conference during the day?”

Ashley removed a pint of rocky road ice cream from the fridge and dug into it with a tablespoon. “That’s what
I
wanted to know, but Lincoln got mad when I asked. He said Miguel’s death has everyone unsettled at the dealership. But sales are at an all-time high, which is strange considering it’s wintertime.”

“So he and Alex are working on promotions or inventory changes or what?” Cooper persisted.

“Heaven only knows!” Ashley shoveled the ice cream into her mouth. “I’ve never been too interested in the nuts and bolts of his business before, so Lincoln doesn’t really go into detail with me.”

Cooper turned to her sister. “One of his employees has been murdered. Your husband is attending a bunch of late-night meetings, and in the middle of winter, during a recession, sales are going up?” She stirred milk into her coffee and then wagged the spoon at Ashley. “You’d
better
get interested in the details. Something’s going on at Love Motors.”

Ashley nodded glumly. “You’re right, but I’m scared. I have a feeling that I don’t want to hear the answers to my questions. My life might never be the same again.”

Touching her sister’s hand, Cooper said, “I’m scared, too, but now’s the time for us to call on our inner strength. I know it’s in you and I pray it’s in me.”

The sisters stared at one another, their hands clasped tightly. Ashley broke contact first.

“You’d better fix me coffee, too.” She slapped the lid on the ice cream container and stuffed it back into the freezer. “I’m waiting up for my husband. And when he walks through that front door, that man is going to tell me exactly what his meeting was about. I can be a tigress when I need to be.” And she issued a menacing growl.

• • •

At ten thirty-five, Cooper stood by the front door of the Flood Zone, a downtown dance club. Hugging herself against the cold, she turned her head each time the club’s metal door swung open. The blast of loud music and the scent of stale beer and cigarette smoke escaped as the bouncer waved couples and small groups of friends into the club.

Suddenly, someone slipped an arm around her waist. It was Edward. He was dressed in jeans, a black T-shirt, and the same leather jacket he’d worn the night they rode to Ashley’s house on his motorcycle.

“You’ve let your hair grow in,” she said over the thumping of her heart.

Edward ran a hand over the dark hair covering his scalp. “My tat didn’t go over so well at work.” He jerked his head toward the club. “Besides, my old crew would recognize me straight off if I didn’t do something different.” He glanced around the street. “I only want to talk to them if I need to. You brought the picture?”

Cooper handed him the Love Motors newsletter. Edward moved beneath the pool of light cast by the streetlamp and examined Miguel Ramos’s photograph. “I’ve seen you somewhere before.” He rubbed his stubbly chin. “He wasn’t a user, but somewhere, somehow, he was in the game.” Edward shoved the newsletter into his front pocket and shook his head. “You played with matches and you got burned. What did you do, little man?”

“Let’s go inside,” Cooper said. “It’s freezing out here.”

“Yeah, we’re going.” Edward placed his hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the bouncer. After the two men exchanged cryptic nods, Edward opened the heavy front door and escorted Cooper into a steam bath of strobe lights and gyrating bodies.

In such a crush of people, the pair could not make their way toward the bar walking side by side, so Edward took a firm grip on Cooper’s hand and carved a path through the crowd. Women eyed him appreciatively and Cooper felt an unanticipated flush of pride that she should be the woman he turned to and asked, “What’ll ya have, sweetheart?”

Flustered by the use of the endearment, which he uttered with just enough humor to make her doubt its sincerity, Cooper stared at the rows of liquor bottles, beer taps, and drink machines filled with frozen cocktails, and tried to make a decision.

“Two Coronas!” Edward shouted his order and then smiled at Cooper. “You need to act fast or they’ll serve somebody else.” He pointed at the margarita and daiquiri machines. “Besides, you’re a tough chick tonight. No sissy drinks for you.”

The beer came in chilled bottles with a lime wedge tucked into the necks. Edward slapped a bill on the bar and turned around, relaxing his shoulders and taking a pull of beer as he surveyed the room.

“Damn,” he muttered, and the rest of his words were drowned out by the music, but Cooper had read his lips.

“What is it?” she shouted.

Edward turned toward her. “The fuzz is in the house, which is good. It means a deal is supposed to go down. But it’s bad, too.”

For a moment, Cooper was confused. Then she said, “Because no one will want to talk about Miguel once the cops make their move.”

Nodding, Edward smiled. “Brains and beauty. You can’t beat that.”

Cooper followed him as he edged around the dance floor. She had no idea that he was heading for a tall black-haired man with light coffee-colored skin. Without making eye contact, Edward spoke casually to him. The only word Cooper caught was “papers.”

The man gave Cooper a licentious stare and then jerked his head toward the restrooms.

“Stay here!” Edward commanded and disappeared with his new acquaintance.

Suddenly stranded beneath the flashing lights, Cooper distanced herself from the nearest speaker and tried to strike a nonchalant pose by leaning against a wall and taking lazy sips of beer. She pretended not to notice an attractive man in his late thirties smiling at her, but her lack of interest didn’t deter him from approaching her.

“Your beer’s almost empty. Can I get you a refill?” he shouted and then added, “My name’s Rich.”

“No, thanks.” Cooper replied loudly. “I’m actually waiting for someone!”

“Aren’t we all?” Rich smiled again. “I saw you two come in. Guess I’m not your type—seeing as you like guys with rough edges.”

Cooper gave the stranger a sideways glance. There was something about him that struck her as incongruous. Like most of the other men in the Flood Zone, Rich was wearing acid-washed jeans and a T-shirt. The males on the dance floor seemed to opt for the colorful silk button-downs Cooper had seen in Miguel’s closet. Those lingering around the fringes—settled at the bar or openly assessing the females closest to them—wore tight T-shirts with a variety of graphic designs. Rich’s shirt was gray and featured a box of Good & Plenty candy on the front. He saw her grin as she stared at it.

“Says it all,” he said cheerfully as the DJ paused the music in order to announce drink specials and future Flood Zone events. “I’d offer to hook you up, but your boy’s probably got you covered.”

Having no idea what Rich was talking about, Cooper murmured unintelligibly and wished Edward would finish whatever business he was conducting in the bathroom.

“I’ve never seen you here before,” she said, deciding to challenge him.

A shadow passed over his face but he recovered quickly. “I keep late hours. You’re probably snug in bed before I even walk through that door.”

Suddenly, Cooper knew why Rich carried himself as if he were on guard. “You’re a cop, aren’t you?” she asked, and before he could argue, added, “It’s cool. I won’t grab the mic and tell everyone.”

Rich took a step closer. “You seem like a nice young woman. Stay away from the Colonel. You should go. Now!” He had to shout again as the frenzied music recommenced.

At that moment, Edward emerged from the restroom and made a beeline for Cooper. Smirking, he walked straight up to the undercover cop and pointed at his shirt. “Nobody calls them that anymore. Get yourself some updated threads, man.”

Unperturbed, Rich toasted Edward with his empty beer bottle. “Word has it that you’ve cleaned up your act. Working two jobs. Paying your taxes like any other true-blooded American.” He fixed his gaze in the direction of the restrooms. “Maybe you can’t believe everything you hear.”

Edward shrugged and grabbed Cooper’s hand. “Thought you knew that already, dog. How many bad tips have you chased down?”

“A lot!” Rich bellowed good-naturedly. “But some of them work out, like the one that led me to you. No hard feelings, Colonel?” He held out his hand.

Edward searched the man’s face and then clasped his hand. “I might want to trade favors with you someday. Off the record. You cool with that?”

Rich winked at Cooper. “Sno-cone cool.”

It was impossible not to like the man, and Cooper smiled at him before following Edward out of the club.

Edward didn’t speak again until they’d walked several blocks east of the Flood Zone to a public parking lot. He marched up to a white sedan painted with the text
After Dark Taxi
and below, in smaller letters,
6 p.m.
–2
a.m.
and a phone number.

“Your second job?” she asked, breaking the silence. “And who was that guy back there?”

“A cop.” The usual derisiveness was missing from Edward’s use of the word. “The special drug task force kind of cop. The guy’s a machine. I don’t think he ever sleeps. He’s like Batman. Shows up out of nowhere and takes no prisoners.”

“Sounds like you admire him.”

Considering this, Edward fiddled with his keys. “I respect the man. He gets results without treating people like they’re scum. He reads them their rights, makes sure none of his buddies get the chance to slip in a few right hooks or kicks to the ribs, and takes them in for booking.” He unlocked the doors and he and Cooper quickly escaped the winter air. “When Rich Johnson showed up, I wouldn’t rat anybody out and he just signed the papers and sent me to Jail West. No threatening or yelling or blowing smoke in my face. He gave me a choice. I chose doing time over getting chopped up into tiny pieces and being tossed into the James. So yeah, I respect him because he plays fair.”

Cooper checked her watch. It was well after eleven. “Um, where are we going?”

“There’s a video store a few blocks from here. Let’s just say they have a back room that’s not full of porn.”

“Fake IDs?” Cooper asked.

“Yeah, and you’re going to buy one. Got any cash?” Edward had warned her previously that she might need to spend some money to uncover a clue about Miguel’s death.

“Two hundred. It’s all I could spare.”

“It’ll do. I’ll make sure of that.”

Edward parked in front of Doc Buster’s Video, and Cooper had to smile at the name. Her grin quickly dissipated as she looked around the ill-lit street and noticed several people hulking in the shadows. Shattered glass was strewn on the sidewalk, the streetlamps cast a bruised purplish light, and the store’s filmy windows displayed water-stained posters of movies that were popular a decade earlier.