Coop Knows the Scoop

by Taryn Souders

  “What on earth were you thinking?” she said through her teeth.

  I winced.

  Why were adults always asking me that?

  She stormed toward us with the ferociousness of a late-summer hurricane—the type that had enough strength to level a small town sitting a hundred miles inland.

  Tick intercepted Hurricane Delilah before she got to us. He reached out and gently touched her shoulder and said something. If the words were “calm down,” they had little impact. I wished he had put me in his car. At least then I’d be safe from Mama’s rage.

  “Just be glad your grandfather was already asleep when Keith called,” she said glaring at me over Tick’s shoulder.

  I glanced at Lib, Jus, and Beau. They studied their shoes…again. Mr. Gordon had arrived the same as Mama but had yet to say anything, which was worse than actually saying something. He just glowered at the four of us.

  “I thought you’d be proud, Mama,” I choked.

  Tick, Mama, and Mr. Gordon glanced wide-eyed at each other and then at me.

  “Proud?” they repeated together.

  Mama put her hands on her hip. “And why, pray tell, would I be proud to have the police call and tell me you were caught breaking into a funeral parlor?”

  “Because I think—”

  “Wrong!” Mama’s hands slammed against hips. “The one thing you didn’t do was think!”

  Her voice echoed in the empty alley. Earl and Deputy Gomez both looked up from where they stood by the back door. Earl sneered.

  “I am so disappointed in you,” she said.

  She probably thought if Daddy was still alive I wouldn’t have done something so stupid.

  I’d like to think if Daddy was still alive, he’d have taught me how to not get caught.

  “But, Mama, we found—”

  “I. Don’t. Care.” Mama seethed. “I don’t care if you found the Holy Grail or the Lost City of Atlantis. You were breaking and entering!”

  “—Tabby’s murderer,” I said.

  She pressed both hands to her face and took a deep breath. She stared at Tick. “He’s not listening. I can’t. I can’t even…” she turned away, her hands in the air.

  “Tick,” I pleaded. “We just wanted to test Earl’s typewriter.”

  “Why?”

  “To see if it matched Gran’s goodbye letter.”

  Tick sighed. “I could have the four of you arrested, you realize that, right?”

  “No, Keith, please.” Mama turned and grabbed his arm.

  “It’s not up to me, Delilah.” He gestured behind him to Earl. “If Earl wants to press charges, it’s within his legal rights to do so.”

  “Do y’all know how much trouble you’re in?” Mr. Gordon said.

  I bit my lip. I hadn’t actually thought we might end up in jail.

  “But, Tick, the suitcase.” I gestured to his car. “That was Gran’s.”

  Mama looked where I pointed and gasped.

  I pointed across the alley at Earl. “He had it. He must’ve killed Gran!”

  Tick ran his hand over his face. “You’d better be careful of any accusations you make, Cooper.” He walked over to the suitcase. “Where exactly did you find this?”

  “Hidden in his office.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Great. Now Earl can add larceny to the list of charges. I hope you didn’t take anything else.” Tick turned to Mama. “You recognize this, Delilah?”

  She nodded. “From pictures. Harley would know for sure, though.”

  “It was Gran’s,” I insisted. “Open it. Her clothes are inside.”

  “But because you’ve removed it,” said Tick, “you can’t prove it was in Earl’s possession.”

  Liberty put her finger up and stepped forward.

  He stopped her in her tracks. “And before you say you can back up what Coop’s saying, partners in crime aren’t considered reliable witnesses. Earl could say you planted it.”

  My stomach flip-flopped as his words sunk in. How dumb was I to have taken it from his office? I screwed up. Big-time.

  “But Tick,” I argued, “how could I have planted it? It’s been missing for forty years.”

  Earl shook hands with Gomez, then shuffled toward us in his bathrobe. “Miscreants! Hope you know I’m pressing charges.”

  I took a step toward him. “You killed my gran!”

  Tick pulled me back. “Earl,” he held up the suitcase. “How’d you get this?”

  Why was Tick asking nicely? Wasn’t it obvious Earl stole it?

  Earl stopped dead in his tracks.

  I could picture it all. Earl would start squirming. Maybe he’d get dry mouth or something. He’d run his hand through his thin, comb-over hair. Then his shoulders would sag as the realization he was caught sunk in. “You’re right. You got me,” he’d say. “I did it. Tabby discovered I was stealing from the church. She threatened to turn me in. I had to silence her and then I made it look like she ran away…” then he’d drift off into silence. Tick would cuff him and lead him away in his bathrobe and slippers.

  “Earl?” Tick gestured to Gomez, who nudged Earl toward us.

  Even in the orange light, he looked pale as he stared at the suitcase. “I forgot that was even there,” he whispered.

  I didn’t even know I’d been holding my breath, but, as soon as he said those words, I let out a lungful of air.

  From the corner of my eye I could see Tick’s shoulders drop, like he was also relieved. At least Earl wasn’t going to claim he’d never seen it before or that I’d planted it.

  “Earl,” Tick crossed his arms and faced him. “You need to tell me—”

  “Please don’t lock me up! I got the claustrophobia real bad and I—I just panicked,” he cried. “I didn’t mean for Tabby to die. I tried to warn her, but it was too late! She was already dead when I got there!”

  Chapter 30

  After a moment of stunned silence, Deputy Gomez pulled his handcuffs from his utility belt. “Earl Winston, I’m arresting you for the murder of Tabitha Goodman. You have the right to an attorney—”

  “It was an accident! I never meant to kill her. But you gotta understand, I couldn’t go to jail. I—I—I can’t go to jail!” He clung to Tick’s arm. “I’ll never survive.”

  Tick raised a brow.

  Earl moaned and ran his hands through his hair. “A jail cell. They’re so small and—and locked…”

  “Earl, what happened? Start from the beginning,” Tick said, pulling his black notepad from his front pocket. “Try to remember as much as you can.”

  Earl sighed. “I haven’t forgotten a single thing from that day. But you have to believe me. It was a horrible accident. Tabby came to see me at Comforted Souls late that morning.”

  Tick clicked his pen. “About what?”

  “Gambling. She was furious with Doc.”

  Wait. What? Gramps didn’t gamble.

  “Why did she come to you?” asked Tick.

  Earl hung his head. “I was his bookie.”

  That went against everything Gramps had ever told me. “That’s a lie,” I shouted. “Gramps doesn’t gamble. It’s his rule! He only has two—don’t drink and don’t gamble! He wouldn’t! He won’t even buy a raffle ticket.”

  Mama’s brow creased. “Coop’s right. Harley’s so straitlaced he practically wears a corset. You honestly expect people to believe he’s a gambler?”

  Earl scoffed. “Maybe not now, but he sure used to. Could put away a few drinks back then as well.”

  I clenched my fists. “No! Didn’t you hear me? That’s his other rule! He doesn’t! He can’t—” My voice cracked.

  “Ask him yourself. He didn’t always have those rules, now did he?” He shook his head. “If there’s something gamblers are good at, it’s lying to those aroun
d them so they don’t find ’em out. There wasn’t a horse race or card game anywhere he didn’t place a bet on. He might’ve been the town doctor, but she was the one with all the money, and he blew through her cash like a tornado at the U.S. Treasury.”

  Gomez shot a glance to Tick. “Then what?”

  Earl stared at the ground. “Tabby said she and Harley had had a fight. She’d threatened to cut him off. Then she threatened to turn me in if I didn’t stop acting as his bookie. She was shouting so loud she could’ve woken Mrs. Simmons laid out in the embalming room. Passersby actually stopped and peered in through the front windows. I begged her to keep her voice down and swore to her I’d stop.”

  “Sounds like motive to me,” said Gomez.

  Earl swiveled, his fists opening and closing. “No! We parted on good terms. I gave her some zucchini muffins before she left—as a kind of peace offering.”

  Gomez raised a brow. “She yells at you about enabling her husband’s gambling habit, threatens to turn you in to the police, and you send her home with muffins?”

  Earl stroked his robe as though it were a fine suit. “I’m an excellent baker. It’s always been a hobby. Still is. Ask anyone.” But he paled.

  “What next?” asked Tick.

  “I musta been in too big a hurry.” His eyes widened. “Later I saw a box of Balm-A-Body was right next to the baking soda! Maybe I brought it up with me by accident or something.” He nearly sobbed the last sentence.

  Earl ran his handcuffed hands back and forth through his hair. “I knew I had to warn Tabby right away not to eat the muffins—just in case I’d gotten the powders mixed up. I jumped into the hearse, but when I got to her house… I was too late!”

  Justice leaned over to me. “And he wonders why your Mama won’t sell his stuff at the store.”

  Earl let out a moan. “Nuthin’ but a coupla plates with crumbs. I panicked. The whole town had heard her screeching threats at me earlier. And worse, the Feather sisters! You know how they gossip. I had a criminal record. There was no way people would believe it was an accident.”

  Earl held up his hands. “I just made it look like she ran off—typed the note on Doc’s typewriter. Grabbed some clothes and the suitcase…” He swallowed hard. “The playground had just been put in, I had my hearse, so I did what I had to…” He trailed off. “Afterward I hid her stuff here and tried to forget the whole mess.”

  “Helped yourself to her necklace too, right, Lear Stowinn?” said Beau.

  Both Tick and Gomez turned and stared at Beau.

  Earl nodded. “I couldn’t help myself. Old habits die hard.”

  “Told you,” Beau mouthed smugly to us.

  “But the minute her remains were found I knew I had to get rid of it,” said Earl. “Having me a record and all I figured the police might come ’round looking to talk to me.” He faced me. “Harley and I are about the same height, so I dressed like him and pawned it at the Trash and Treasures in Sangerville. Wasn’t easy, let me tell you. He’s not a scrawny man. Had to put on a few layers of clothes to pad myself and kept my back to the camera.”

  “Why not mention Doc’s gambling problem in the note?” asked Tick. “After the fight she and Doc had, it would have been an easy sell for Harley.”

  Earl squirmed. “I wanted to keep quiet about the gambling. Didn’t want to risk an investigation. Gambling wasn’t legal back then.”

  “Hate to tell you, but being a bookie isn’t legal now,” muttered Tick.

  “That’s pretty logical thinking for someone who claims it was an accident,” said Gomez.

  “It was! You have to believe me.” Earl held his arms close to his chest like a scared mouse. He looked at me, his eyes softening. “I’m so sorry, Coop. I didn’t mean to kill your grandma. She was one of the few people around town who didn’t treat me like dirt.” He whimpered something about claustrophobia again, but I couldn’t make the words out.

  Tick handed the suitcase to Deputy Gomez. “You’ll want this to tag into evidence.”

  Gomez nodded and opened the door of Tick’s cruiser. Earl slid in.

  “Wait!” I jogged over. “How did your blood end up on her ring?”

  Earl looked up from the back seat. “Tabby’s kitchen was a wreck. Overturned chairs. Broken glass. Couldn’t have it looking that way if I wanted Doc to believe the note. I cut my hand cleaning, and I must’ve got some on her ring when I moved her body.”

  Gomez shut the door, then he and Tick walked away and talked for a few minutes. Then Gomez drove off in his own car, leaving Earl handcuffed inside of Tick’s.

  Tick walked over to where we stood. “You kids are still in trouble for breaking into Earl’s—even if it did lead to finding evidence.”

  I heaved a sigh. “I don’t care. Gramps is off the hook, and that’s all that matters.”

  Beau, Justice, and Liberty nodded.

  Tick hooked his thumbs into his utility belt and exhaled. “That’s where you’re wrong, Cooper.”

  I cocked my head. “What do you mean?”

  “Earl just admitted to killing Tabby,” said Mama. “I don’t understand.”

  Tick ran his hand over his face. “The poison that killed Tabby was arsenic—which isn’t found in Balm-A-Body.

  “It is!” I said. “I did research. Embalming stuff used to have arsenic in it. So it totally could’ve—”

  Tick shook his head. “Used to, Coop. In the nineteenth century. Don’t you think we checked that out? Earl wouldn’t have been using anything like that.” He nodded toward his car. “He may think he killed Tabby, but he didn’t. He just buried her.”

  “So the real murderer is still out there?” I asked.

  “Not for long.” Tick faced me. “The DA has everything he needs. Being cut off from a fortune is a heavy-duty motive, especially when you’re dealing with a compulsive gambler. They’ll do anything to keep their addiction going. Pair that with the fact he’d bought the arsenic…”

  “What are you saying?” My breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t breathe.

  Tick’s eyes met mine. “Gomez is leaving to arrest your grandfather now.”

  Mama gasped.

  “But he can’t!” I said.

  He threw his hands up in the air. “He flat-out lied, Cooper. I asked him if there were marital problems, fights, or money issues, and he said no. For the love of all that’s holy! Gambling checks all three of those boxes!”

  Chapter 31

  I sat on the edge of my bed, numb, staring at the case closet wall. Moonlight shined on my notes and photographs, but I didn’t care about them anymore. I didn’t care about Lear Stowinn or Earl Winston or whatever he wanted to call himself. I didn’t care about some bookkeeper forty years ago who might’ve been stealing money from the church. It had nothing to do with Gran’s death. I was done with mysteries. They brought nothing but pain.

  Gramps had lied to me. I wanted to punch something, my heart hurt so bad. I hadn’t known what betrayal felt like until now. If there’s something gamblers are good at, it’s lying to those around them. Earl’s words repeated in my head. He was right. Gramps had lied about the gambling and marriage problems. It’s not a stretch to think he lied about being a murderer too. Bile rose in my throat.

  Stupid case closet.

  Stupid photographs and suspect cards.

  Stupid me.

  I pushed off the bed. My whole body shook, but I refused to give in to the tears that wanted to fall. I clawed at the papers taped to my closet wall, ripping them all down. Discarded photos and notecards scattered and floated to floor.

  Beau rolled over on his mattress. “What are you doing?” he mumbled.

  “Nothing.” I choked back a sob. “Go back to sleep.”

  He sat up and leaned against the wall. He remained quiet for several moments, and then broke the silence. “You worried abou
t your gramps?”

  I didn’t answer. Just stared at the pile of torn papers and pictures at my feet.

  I wasn’t worried. I was ticked.

  “It gets better. You get used to it. That sick feeling in your stomach.”

  My chest tightened. “He’s not who he said he was.”

  Beau looked out the window. “Most people aren’t.” After a moment he shoved his covers off and stepped across his mattress. He sat on the window seat. “Hey, man. I get the lying thing. Really.” Beau rested his head against the windowpane. “Lying is when your daddy says he’s going to the store for ice cream but comes back with beer. Or when he swears he’s not drunk and you pretend to believe him because living with that lie is easier than living with the truth.”

  I scoffed. “Yeah well, loving your dad when he’s the town drunk is different than loving a possible murderer.”

  Beau’s face tightened.

  The heat of shame rushed to my face. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have.” He stared back out the window. “But just because your gramps lied doesn’t mean he killed his wife. Why are you giving up on him so fast? Think about how long you’ve known him.” He swung his legs down, perched on the edge of the window seat, and faced me. “Do you really believe he’s a murderer?”

  “Gramps once said trust doesn’t come with a refill. When it’s gone, you probably won’t get it back, and if you do, it’s never the same.” I looked at Beau. “If that’s the case, I’m holding an empty cup.” I slumped over to my bed and sat on the edge. “I get why he didn’t talk about his past at all. He didn’t just have skeletons in his closet. He might’ve had ’em at the playground too.”

  I was sick of secrets being kept and even sicker when I discovered what they were. I’d always believed Gramps was a man of his word. Brave and trustworthy. But now, was everything a lie? Cowards hid behind lies. Not brave men. Brave men faced the truth and fought the fight. Like my daddy had done. But Daddy was gone. And Gramps, who’d become like my daddy, was gone too.

  “If you’d asked me two weeks ago if I could trust Gramps for anything, I’d have said yes.” I picked at the threads on my bedspread. “But now…I can’t.”