Part 20 (1/2)

”I'll be right back,” he promised the old woman and jogged out to his car. He popped the trunk, grabbed a large Ziploc bag filled with kibble and two cans of moist dog food and returned to Mrs. Tilden's kitchen. Her canine, a mixed breed named Buddy Boy, began to thump his tail on the floor as Warren replenished his empty bowls.

”You go on and eat now, Buddy,” his owner directed and the dog sprang toward his dinner. Warren seemed pleased to watch Mrs. Tilden's pet devour his meal. He then brushed a few of Buddy's hairs from his pants and said good-bye to Mrs. Tilden.

”I don't know what we'd do without you, dear man!” she called after Warren, a grateful smile on her face.

”Do you have a dog?” Cooper asked him on the way to their next stop.

”No. I'd like one, but Grandma Helen's afraid of them now. She didn't used to be. We had all kinds of dogs on the farm when I was a kid.” He glanced in Cooper's direction as they paused at a four-way stop sign and she noticed that his eyes seemed sad.

”You take really good care of her. Even if she can't tell you that all the time, she's grateful.” She smiled at him. ”Do you have any help? Your parents? Siblings?”

”Whoa! You sound like that police investigator who interviewed me.” He laughed. ”Are you wearing a wire inside that leather jacket or something?”

Cooper was embarra.s.sed. ”I'm sorry. I've always been lousy at small talk. It couldn't have been too much fun to have been interrogated by the cops and here I am, doing the same thing.”

”But hopefully for different reasons. Like you just want to get to know me,” Warren answered flirtatiously. ”And that Rector guy wasn't nasty or anything. He was really polite, actually, and he didn't ask me anything unreasonable, considering what's going on. Background stuff, mostly. And where I was last Friday night.”

”I hope your alibi's tighter than Penny's. She's worried because no one saw her. She was just at home, watching TV.”

Warren nodded. ”That's what half of America does most nights. I was lucky, because Friday night is bingo night and I took Grandma Helen to the Columbine Center to play. She doesn't always know what's going on during the games, but she smiles like a kid at the circus when she hears those tiles being spun around. We go at least once a month, so people recognize us.” He wiped his hand across his forehead in a dramatized gesture of relief. ”I was never so grateful for bingo in my life!”

”Maybe the police are overlooking something. I keep thinking that there's no way it's a Door-2-Door person.” Cooper sighed in frustration. ”When I consider the people I've met, well, you're all too nice!” She looked at him as he pulled in front of their final delivery stop. ”You've been there almost a year, so you've stood beside the same people week after week. Doesn't it blow your mind that someone could be a murderer?”

Warren parked and then dropped his eyes to his lap. ”I just hope they're wrong. That's all I can do.” He looked at her, his face pinched and drawn. ”Because the other possibility is too hard to accept. This could be the end of Door-2-Door. People will stop donating and others will be too afraid to volunteer. Without gifts of money and time, this organization can't make it.”

”And hundreds of clients will suffer.”

”Hundreds,” Warren repeated softly.

They delivered meals to their last stop quickly and then drove back to headquarters in gloomy silence. As the square building came into view, the gray walls facing the parking lot were highlighted by flashes of blue. Three Henrico County police cars and a pair of City of Richmond cruisers had parked in a fanlike pattern within steps of the front door.

Warren, whose face had gone pale, seemed to freeze behind the wheel at the intersection across from Door-2-Door.

”They're bringing someone out,” Cooper breathed. ”I can't tell who, though. We're too far away.”

Blinking, Warren pressed the accelerator and they pulled into the parking lot. Cooper jumped out of the Corolla just as one of the police car's rear doors was slammed shut. The vehicle was obscured by the bodies of a dozen uniformed officers. Rector was there, too. He gesticulated briefly to several of his men and then walked briskly toward a black mustang.

Cooper looked at the scene Rector had left in his wake. Most of the Door-2-Door volunteers had completed their delivery routes and were posed in positions of open-mouthed shock on the building's front steps. Trish was standing on the loading ramp, her hand clamped over her mouth.

Cooper ran up to Trish and blocked her vision of the police cars. ”What's happened?”

”I just don't believe it,” Trish murmured and then pointed at the cruiser in the center of the pack. ”They've arrested Erik.”

”The police think he's the killer?” Cooper was astounded.

Trish nodded numbly. ”There's been another murder. A woman named Vera. She's not a Door-2-Door client, but she was given food from here.”

Vera? The name sounded familiar to Cooper. She turned her attention to the parking lot. The policemen had disappeared inside their cars and were slowly beginning to drive off, blue lights still ablaze.

”Violet!” Cooper exclaimed. ”Vera is Violet's sister! There are three Vs. Violet, Vera, and Velma.”

Trish swallowed hard and stared at Cooper in horror. ”He murdered his own fiancee's sister?”

”No.” Cooper rejected the idea immediately. ”No way was it him.”

Trish put her hand on Cooper's shoulder as Warren joined them on the ramp. ”I heard two of the policemen explaining things to Lali. They found Vera dead in her chair. Just like the others.” Trish spoke softly, reluctant to press the point. ”Her watch was taken right off her wrist. It was the only valuable thing she owned.”

”And she was poisoned?” It didn't make sense to Cooper. She struggled to understand how Erik could have gained access to a woman living in a center with round-the-clock care.

”They think it was in her milk carton,” Bryant said. ”It looked like it had been opened a bit and then resealed. Lali's been asked to review all the victim's dietary records to see if they were milk drinkers.”

Cooper ran her hand through her hair. ”How could the Door-2-Door killer have gotten milk into a senior center? You can't just waltz into those kind of facilities, can you?”

”No. There's usually a check-in at the front door.” Trish stared into the distance, equally puzzled.

Cooper grabbed her friend's hand. ”Oh, Trish. This is so awful!” She looked around for Nathan, longing to be taken into his arms, but he was nowhere to be seen.

The volunteers began to slowly drift back inside, but Cooper didn't want to be in the midst of the speculative talk about Erik's guilt. Suddenly, she recalled an image of him and Violet giggling together, heads drawn close, shoulders touching. She remembered his contented smile earlier in the day. It was not the expression of a murderer recalling his sordid deeds, but of a man dreaming of his future with the woman he loved.

Without really thinking about her actions, Cooper raced toward Cherry-O and headed for Violet's house. She knew that she'd be of little comfort to Violet, but perhaps having another person present who believed in her fiance's innocence would be a balm to the older woman. Cooper didn't pause long enough to consider that the poor woman who had lost her sister and her future husband within hours might not be interested in receiving visitors.

Cooper was in need of comfort, too, and an inner voice told her that she was driving in the right direction to find it.

16.

For such people are not serving our Lord Christ, but their own appet.i.tes. By smooth talk and flattery they deceive the minds of naive people.

Romans 16:18 (NIV) Halfway to Violet and Velma's, Cooper noticed that her truck was almost out of gas. Even in her numb state of mind, she deliberately risked driving past the higher-priced stations like Sh.e.l.l and Exxon and headed for one of the lesser-known names in order to save two cents per gallon. Out of habit, she pulled into the closest Wawa and, after affixing the nozzle to its automatic pumping setting, wandered over to the temporary tent erected next to the vacuum station. A young man wearing a green ap.r.o.n and a boyishly charming smile was selling cut flowers and plush animals.

While he was busy a.s.sisting another customer, Cooper ran her fingertips over the rose bouquets, deciding that they were too formal and stiff to bring the grieving sisters. Instead, she chose an arrangement of red, yellow, and orange Gerbera daises that had been artistically mixed with a cl.u.s.ter of Bittersweet. The boy wrapped the flowers in green tissue and tied them with a white ribbon, his long fingers deft and graceful. He small-talked and smiled gratefully throughout the transaction and though Copper wanted to be friendly, she felt too detached from the scene to respond, as though her body were floating miles above the gas station and the cheerful flower vendor's tent.

It didn't help that she felt repulsed by the toothy grins of the purple, pink, and bright blue rabbits, spotted dogs, and teddy bears. To her, their frozen smiles bordered on leers, so she accepted the flowers with a murmur of thanks and retreated to the silent safety of her truck.

There were no cars parked in front of Violet's house when Cooper arrived, but the porch light was on. She didn't know if it had been burning throughout the night and, even though it was weak compet.i.tion for the autumn sun, she took it as a sign that she should pursue her decision to visit the women inside.

Velma answered Cooper's gentle knock, but only after peering hesitantly through a crack between the wooden door and the locked screen door.

”Do you remember me, ma'am?” Cooper said, holding the flowers in front of her like a peace offering. ”I was here with Erik last week.”

”Of course, child.” Velma unlocked the outer door and shuffled backward. ”Come in, come in.”

There were no lights on inside the house and the air felt heavy and still. Velma led her out to the sun porch and sank into the same chair she had occupied during Cooper's last visit. The old woman seemed to have been reduced in size since that time. Her body looked shrunken, her face especially pale, and her sharp eyes dull and somnolent. Cooper laid the flowers carefully on the table and took the seat facing Velma.

”I am so sorry for your loss,” she said, wis.h.i.+ng she could think of a more original expression of condolence. ”For everything that's happened. Can I do anything for you? Get you some groceries or run errands? I've got the whole day free and I'd love to help.”

Velma turned toward the window as if she hadn't heard a word. ”I gave her the milk, you know. Brought it with me durin' our visit like I always do. Vera wanted it. Had to have it. You see, the center doesn't serve Richfood milk, so Vera won't touch it. We've been drinkin' Rich-food milk since we were little girls and it's the only brand Vera recognizes. She'd get real put-out with me if I didn't bring her that milk. Why, she even threatened to snitch to our mama if I didn't hand it over fast enough!” Her profile was etched with pain. ”So I brought it to her every visit. How she smiled when she took that first sip,” she added ruefully. ”You'd have thought it was a bottle of Coca-Cola. We weren't allowed to drink soda pop until we lived on our own, you know.”