Methods of Malice, page 14
“Okay, don’t look now, but Trish had me add two cameras overhead on the hanging lights,” Jake said. “Try not to stand in front of whomever you offer chocolate to, so the camera has a clear shot.”
“You want me to stand like Bryant, giving the weather report?”
Jake laughed. “Basically, yeah.”
“Okay, here I go.” Cooper crossed the room and scooped up the box of chocolates. “I can do this. I can do this,” she murmured under her breath.
She approached Simon, Jasmine, and Laura and smiled. “Hi there. Our assistant director was kind enough to buy sweets to share. May I offer you a piece?” She widened her grin and inched the box closer. It’s Délicieux French Chocolates, ganache, truffles, and pralines.”
“These are my absolute favorite,” Jasmine practically squealed. She leaned forward to examine the choices. “Where did she find these? I usually have to buy them online and wait weeks for them to arrive.”
“The Little French Pâtissier. Are you familiar with the shop?”
“No, I’m not. Simon bought me a box for my birthday. I’ve been dreaming about these since then. I love the pralines.” She carefully picked up a chocolate-covered pecan praline and popped it into her mouth. “These are a little bit of heaven.”
“They sure are,” Cooper said. “Laura?” She pushed the box in front of Simon’s assistant.
Laura’s face paled. She shoved back her chair and jumped to her feet. “Please excuse me.”
Cooper turned in her direction. “Shall I save you some?” she called.
She raced from the room without answering. A very odd response, unless you knew how Regina died.
“Mr. Doyle?” Cooper asked.
“No. I’m not a fan of chocolate.”
“Can you believe that? Who doesn’t love chocolate?” Jasmine asked with a laugh. “That’s okay, more for us chocolate lovers.”
Cooper turned, looking for Michael. He had disappeared yet again.
After a sweep of the room, offering chocolate as she went, Cooper put the silver box back on the table. When she returned to the table, Trish, Quinton, and Bryant had joined Jake and Savannah.
“How did it go?” Trish asked.
“While that wasn’t a very conclusive experiment, it’s obvious Jasmine has no idea how Regina died,” Cooper said. “As for Laura, she looked like she’d seen a ghost.”
“I saw that reaction,” Jake said. “She couldn’t leave the room fast enough.”
Cooper turned to Trish. “I’m sorry to say this, but I think we need to dig deeper into Laura’s motives.”
“What about Michael?” Trish asked. “He remains my number-one suspect.”
“Yes. Michael too.” Cooper turned to the men. “What do you think?”
“Thanksgiving is Thursday. I’m off on Friday,” Quinton said. “Anyone care to team up for surveillance?”
“Sure, I can give it a couple of hours,” Bryant said. “Then the family is going to the movies.”
Jake shook his head. “Plumbers don’t have Black Friday off. It’s one of the busiest days of the year. You don’t want to know what people try to shove down their garbage disposals.”
“I’m obligated as well,” Savannah said. “I have students registered for a special painting program.”
“That leaves you and me and the problem of Laura,” Trish said. Weariness seemed to settle on her as she spoke.
“I think it’s time we find out how Laura spends her days,” Cooper said with reluctance. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Trish.
“Though it pains me to say this,” Trish said, “whatever you want to do, I’m in.”
“Friday?” Cooper asked.
“Yes, I’m good for Friday as well,” Trish said.
“Okay.” Cooper suddenly remembered her fitting. She stood, nearly knocking over her water.
“Cooper, where are you going in such a rush?” Quinton asked
“Costume fitting. Then Jon is coming over.”
“Jon?” Quinton perked up, and his eyes rounded.
“I invited Jon for dessert.”
Her friend feigned a shocked expression. “You’re making dessert?”
Cooper laughed. “No, Quinton. I’m serving toaster pastries.”
“Tell me you’re kidding,” he said. “Please tell me that you are kidding.”
“I’m kidding.” She scooped up her phone and the play script from the table.
“Remember,” Savannah said, “no Bible study this Sunday. Everyone have a blessed Thanksgiving.”
“Yes. Have a great turkey day, everyone,” Bryant said. “I’ll see some of you at the senior center on Thursday evening.”
Cooper raced down the hall toward the wardrobe room. As she rounded the corner, she collided with a human wall. The script and her phone went flying.
She looked up to see Jasmine wobble a few steps and put a hand on the wall for support.
“We have to stop meeting like this,” the actress said.
“I’m so sorry,” Cooper said. “I was moving much too fast.” She glanced around, only to see that the contents of Jasmine’s purse had spilled across the hallway. Cooper picked up a coin purse, a package of tissues, and over-the-counter allergy pills before handing everything to the actress. “Oh, and your lipstick rolled over here.”
“Thanks, I’ve got to hurry,” Jasmine said. She shoved everything back into her purse and straightened. “Sorry for the collision, Cooper. Have a nice Thanksgiving.” Without a backward glance, she rushed toward the theater lobby.
Cooper grabbed her phone and eyed the time. Yes, she had to hurry too. She could sort the papers later. For now, she began picking up the strewn pages as quickly as possible. Beneath the first bunch, she found a business card. Shady Oaks Rehab Facility. The card had Jasmine Ryan printed on the back, along with a date from last year. It was an appointment card. Like the sort you get at the dentist. Lifting the last scattered pages, Cooper discovered a silver pen and a driver’s license. It had Jasmine’s face but not her name.
For a minute, she stared at the license. What in the world? Who was Delores Melville?
Another puzzle to figure out.
Cooper tucked the items into her jacket pocket and strode down to the wardrobe room. At the door, she knocked and entered.
“Hi, Cooper.”
Cooper turned around to see Libby, the nurse Quinton was sort of dating.
“Hi, there. I’m here for my fitting.”
“I’m ready for you.” Libby took a vintage shirtwaist dress appropriate for the post–World War Two era play from a rack of clothing. “Would you try this on for me?” She motioned to a paneled divider. “That’s our dressing area.”
Minutes later, Cooper came out in the calf-length dress. “If dresses today were as comfortable as this, I’d wear them more often.”
“It’s a sweet dress and fits you perfectly. No alterations needed.” She returned the dress to the rack and sighed.
“What’s wrong, Libby?”
“I think Quinton is avoiding me,” she said quietly.
“What? No. I don’t think so.”
“I hope not. He sure is a nice guy, isn’t he?”
“Quinton is one of my dearest friends. He’s involved in his church, and he’s always helping people. And the man sure can bake.”
“I’ll say. He brought me cupcakes after the Fall Festival.” She smiled. “Some men bring flowers, but Quinton Enderly brings cupcakes. I love that about him.”
“Why don’t you talk to him?”
“I don’t know. He’s been acting a little distant lately. Maybe he’s trying to break up with me.”
“I’m sure it’s the play. We’re all a bit stressed. This is a huge obligation, and we all want to do our best.”
“I hope you’re right.”
Cooper searched for a way to change the subject. The last thing she wanted to do was get in the middle of Quinton’s love life.
“What are we going to do about my hair?” Cooper asked.
“There was a wig that went with your costume.”
“Was?”
“Yes. A shoulder-length black wig. We’d usually fix the crown in a cute nineteen-forties style hair roll.”
“What happened to the wig?” Cooper asked.
“It’s missing. In fact, a few things are missing.” She frowned. “I did an inventory of the department before the first rehearsal, so I know it was there. That just annoys me to no end.”
“What else is missing?”
“A hat and a prop gun.”
“A gun?”
“It’s a rubber gun. It doesn’t shoot anything. Why anyone would even want it is beyond me.”
“Who has access to the wardrobe department?”
“Only Ms. Tyler and Mr. Doyle.”
Quinton stuck his head into the wardrobe room. “Did anyone notice that it’s snowing?”
“Don’t tell Bryant that.” Cooper chuckled. “Can you come in here for a minute, Quinton?” She looked up and down the hallway and then closed the door behind him.
“Something up?” he asked.
“Yes. Libby says she has a missing wig. A black wig.”
“What?” He looked at Libby. “When did you notice it was missing?”
“Yesterday, but who knows how long it’s been missing. It was here when I inventoried on the first day of rehearsals. I’ve been so busy with fittings that I haven’t had much time to mull the situation. One thing I can tell you is that this room is always locked. We rent many of our costumes from the Costume Palace, so an accurate inventory is critical.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Quinton?”
“Yes. Délicieux French Chocolates.” He looked at Libby. “Don’t tell anyone about this until Cooper and I can do a little investigating.”
“Investigating?” Libby’s voice registered alarm. “That sounds worrisome.”
“It is,” Cooper said. “It is.”
The puzzle pieces were starting to fit together and the big picture wasn’t going to be pretty.
Chapter Eleven
“Thank you, Lord, for that which we are about to eat and for your bountiful blessings. Amen.” Earl Lee raised his head and looked around the table at his family. “I’m sad that Ashley and her family couldn’t be with us,” he said.
“Now, Earl, you remember what that’s like, having two families to please at the holidays,” Cooper’s mother said. “We used to alternate between Grammy Lee’s table and my mama’s.”
“I’m a better cook, so it was an easy call,” Grammy said.
Maggie raised a brow but said nothing.
“When will the Love family be able to break bread with us?” Earl asked.
“Ashley, Lincoln, and Hannah will be here for Leftover Sunday,” Maggie said.
Leftover Sunday was an annual tradition at the Lee house. Every year her mother challenged herself to find new recipes for Thanksgiving leftovers.
“What are you trying for Leftover Sunday this year, Mama?”
“I’ve never tried turkey tetrazzini. What do you think about that?”
“Sounds wonderful,” Cooper said. In thirty-five years, she’d never had a meal at the Lee table that wasn’t delicious. Her mother’s cooking was a gift from God.
“Frank’s coming too,” Grammy said. “Cooper, pass those biscuits while they’re warm.”
Cooper passed the basket, only to observe Grammy Lee put one biscuit on her plate and one in her pocket. Her grandmother raised her head, and her gaze met Cooper’s.
“What? I’m saving one for Popeye. Dogs get to celebrate Thanksgiving too, you know.”
“What are those theater folks doing for Thanksgiving, Cooper?” Earl asked. “Maybe you should have invited them here.”
“They were invited to the mayor’s house.” There was no way Cooper was going to invite them to the Lee house. Someone in Simon Doyle’s entourage was a killer. She didn’t want any of them near her Thanksgiving meal.
“The mayor’s house,” Grammy repeated. “Well, fancy schmancy.” She raised her nose in the air. “Too bad the mayor doesn’t have the best turkey dressing in all of Richmond.”
“Grammy, that’s your recipe,” Cooper said.
“Yep, that’s what I mean.” She reached for the honey.
Cooper bit her tongue. Now was probably not a good time to mention that the fancy-schmancy mayor had invited the cast to an after-party gala on opening night. The event would be held at the Richmond Grand.
“I hear those Northerners say stuffing instead of dressing. Have you ever heard such a thing, granddaughter?”
“The first Thanksgiving was about people of different backgrounds sharing a meal, Grammy. I don’t suppose it matters if it’s stuffing or dressing as long as there is plenty of gravy.”
“Well said, Cooper,” Maggie said. “I’m guessing that if the first Thanksgiving was in Plymouth, Massachusetts, they likely had lobster and fish fry with their turkey, not dressing.”
“I never thought about that, Mama. I think you’re right. We ought to try an authentic Pilgrim Thanksgiving sometime.”
Grammy’s head popped up. “Over my dead body. I’ve been eating turkey, mashed potatoes, and gravy on Thanksgiving my whole life.” She pointed around the table with her fork. “I’m too old to try something new.”
Cooper chuckled. Some things never changed, like Grammy Lee and like Thanksgiving. That was probably where she got her fear of change from. It was hereditary.
Two slices of turkey and a generous serving of mashed potatoes later, Cooper looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run. I’ll eat pie when I get home.”
Earl looked up from his plate. “Where are you going on Thanksgiving?”
“The Sunrise Bible study is serving dinner at the senior center. I signed up for the last shift and cleanup.”
“What a wonderful thing to do. I’m so proud of you, Cooper,” Maggie said. The oven beeped, and she stood. “That’s the apple pie.”
“Oooh! I want apple pie and pumpkin,” Cooper said. “Save me some, please.”
“Not if I get to it first,” Grammy said.
“Don’t worry,” her mother said. “I’ll save you pie.”
“Whose idea was serving at the senior center?” Earl asked.
“Bryant Shelton. That man has a real heart for seniors,” Cooper said. “He and his family serve meals there once a month.”
“Glad to hear he has redeeming qualities,” Grammy said. “Because he sure doesn’t have a head for the weather. The man is the worst meteorologist I’ve ever seen. Whatever he predicts, I plan for the opposite.”
“Grammy, that’s not true,” Cooper said. While it was true that Bryant was notorious for his vague weather predictions, that didn’t make him a candidate for the worst meteorologist. His charming demeanor and gentle heart made up for his shortcomings as a weather predictor.
“Sure it is.” Grammy glanced around the table. “I’m going to need more gravy.”
Earl handed her the gravy. “Mother, you may be exaggerating about Mr. Shelton.”
“If you say so,” Grammy said. “Your weather friend said seventy next week.” She winked. “Anyone want to bet it’s going to snow?”
“Grammy, we don’t bet in this house,” Cooper’s mother said.
“Figure of speech is all.” She smothered her biscuit with turkey gravy. “You can’t see it, Cooper, because he’s your friend. It’s natural to overlook the negative attributes of the people we care about.”
Cooper stared at her grandmother. Every now and again, the Lee matriarch spouted wisdom that put all her other half-baked notions to shame.
“What are you all looking at?” Grammy asked. “I’m right, and we all know it.”
Cooper took her plate to the sink, ran it under water, and placed it in the dishwasher. “I take it Grammy didn’t see that article in the paper on Sunday?” she whispered to her mother.
“Oh, heavens, no. I made sure she didn’t. We’d never hear the end of it if she did.”
“How did you manage to keep her from reading the paper?” Cooper asked.
“I accidentally spilled coffee on the front page,” Maggie said with a chuckle. “What else could I do?”
“Oh, Mama, thank you.”
“Anytime. However, that doesn’t let you off the hook. I’m not keen on knowing my older child may be spending her time with a potential murderer.”
“I know, and we are working hard to uncover the culprit.”
“Murder, Cooper. We’re talking murder if that article is to be believed. Can’t you leave it to the police?”
“I am talking regularly with Detective Olson. But, Mama, it’s been weeks. The case is practically cold now. There’s no evidence. We’ve got to do something before that reporter decides to pen another article. She’s trying to advance her career. We’re trying to save the senior center.”
“Okay, but promise me you will not do anything foolhardy.”
“Like go down into a dark basement when the lights go out?” She chuckled. All the dumb heroines in cheesy murder mysteries did that.
“Oh, Cooper,” her mother scolded with a little laugh. “That is not funny.”
“Oh, Cooper, what?” Grammy asked.
“She forgot to pick up the whipping cream for the pie.”
“I saw whipping cream in the refrigerator.” Grammy frowned. She looked Maggie up and down. “You’re working too hard. Why don’t you set a spell and relax? Earl will do the dishes.”
“That sounds like a lovely idea,” Maggie said.
“What did she say now?” Earl asked, looking between the women.
Cooper kissed her mother’s soft cheek. “You’re the best, Mama.”
When Cooper arrived at the senior center, Trish was already there, along with Bryant and his family.
It was nice to see Jane and her sweet children again. Bryant and his wife made her a little envious of married life. They were so happy.
“Quinton, Savannah, and Jake took earlier shifts,” Bryant said.
“How can I help?” Cooper asked.
Bryant handed her an apron. “If you and Trish stay here serving up pie, the rest of us will start cleaning up.”
“How was your Thanksgiving, Cooper?” Trish asked as she tied an apron around her cashmere sweater and wool skirt. Cooper knew it was cashmere because her sister Ashley had one just like it, with little cashmere bows on the shoulders.
