Coop Knows the Scoop Page 2

  “What’s the word on the body?”

  “Who is it?”

  “How long’s it been there?”

  “Where’s Chief Rogers?”

  “Hey, Keith! Was it murder?”

  “When can we play baseball again?”

  Everyone turned and stared at Liberty, who stood at the top of the steps, tossing her ball.

  “What?” She shrugged. “We’ve got a game coming up.”

  I don’t care what Gramps said about how life was a journey and how there were always forks in the road we could take to change our direction. I was pretty sure Lib’s road was going to take her straight to being the first female player in the big leagues. She was a good player, but talent wouldn’t get her onto a team. Sheer cussedness would. She was the most stubborn girl ever. Danced to her own tune, Mama said. Ha! As if Lib would ever be caught dead dancing.

  Tick grinned. “Your batting average is already better than mine, Liberty.” He held up his hands to the crowd. “I can’t talk about an ongoing investigation. As soon as I have something I’m able to give y’all, I will. You got my word. Now back inside—your coffees are getting cold.”

  He shooed people in the direction of the door. “Plus, you’re blocking the sidewalk.”

  “That’s the least of your problems now, Vidler,” someone shouted.

  Tick shook his head and dragged himself up the steps to where I stood.

  “Morning, Coop.” He took his hat off. “Your mama in?”

  I thumbed toward the back hallway. “In the storeroom doing inventory.”

  He smiled and gave me a small salute. “Thank you.”

  When Mama and I moved in with Gramps after Daddy’s death, Tick was the first to appear on the front porch, welcoming us. Daddy and Tick had been best friends growing up. He told me stories of him and Daddy getting in all sorts of trouble. Stories that helped both Mama and I crawl out from underneath our sadness. “We were inseparable,” Tick said. “People would say if your daddy was a hound dog, then I was the tick.” It had been the first time in ages I’d laughed at something, so after that, he told me I could call him Tick if I wanted. I was eight years old, and I’d been calling him that ever since.

  I stepped in front of him and stood straight, trying to gain an inch of height. “So you really don’t know who you dug up?”

  Liberty nudged me aside. “We know it’s a lady though, right? I mean, the skeleton was in a dress.” She tightened her lips. “Though personally, I wouldn’t be caught dead in one.”

  Tick sighed. “How’d you hear about that?”

  “We got connections.”

  Mama popped around the corner, holding her clipboard. “Wondered if that was you causing such a ruckus, Keith. We heard it all the way back in the storeroom.”

  Tick admitted to his ruckus-causing with a nod. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Are you investigating that mess up at the playground?”

  “Sure am.”

  “What’s the Tipton County Sheriff’s office doing getting their hands dirty with this? Not that I object, mind you.” She tapped her pencil against his wide shoulder and smiled. “But the playground is within the Windy Bottom township.”

  He nodded. “Chief Rogers asked. Said it’s just her right now. She feels like she’s treading in a mud pit and could use the help.” He ran his fingers around the rim of his hat. “Not an easy thing for a police chief to ask. Got to admire her for that.”

  Mama nodded. “Murray left yesterday for a two-week cruise with his new bride. And O’Connell just had his appendix out. No wonder she feels overwhelmed.”

  “The sheriff figured since I live here I’ll have an easier go at things.”

  She studied him for a moment and a smile crept across her lips. “You look like you got trampled by a herd of cattle.”

  He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “Nope—just your customers.”

  “Let’s get you some coffee. Then I’ll show you a quiet spot near Poetry where you can set yourself down and think. Or get some shut-eye.” She winked at him.

  “A nap would be nice, but I need to make a few calls. Couldn’t get a decent signal at the playground.”

  He placed his hand on her back and followed her.

  Jus elbowed me and gestured toward Tick and Mama as they disappeared down the hall. “Whoa. What’s up with that?”

  “Where’ve you been? He’s been sweet on her for months.”

  Justice turned to me, eyes wide. “She like him back?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. “I overheard her tell Gramps she’s a sucker for a guy in uniform.”

  Daddy had died five years ago, and I knew Mama was lonely. But Tick? I liked him a lot, but a policeman’s job could be just as dangerous as the Marines. What if something happened? Mama didn’t need to go through all that again.

  Neither did I.

  Chapter 4

  Burma moseyed into our store moments later, gray hair slicked back and smelling of aftershave. He ran the Cut ’N’ Curl and owned three things that half the people in town didn’t: all his teeth, a full head of hair, and a sense of humor. He had years of experience pulling pranks.

  “Morning, Coop.” He leaned against the counter and thumbed behind him toward the door. “Saw the deputy pull in. Is he here for me?” He chuckled at his own joke.

  “Only if you mess up Shakespeare again,” Liberty muttered. She handed me a clean mug for Burma’s drink then focused her stare on him. “We’re under strict orders from Mom to keep an eye on you.”

  Last week he took it upon himself to rearrange all of Shakespeare’s tragedies based on how the main character kicked the bucket. It took Liberty and Mrs. Gordon ages before the books went from stabbed, poisoned, or baked into a pie (that one’s from Titus Andronicus), back to alphabetical order.

  I slid his latté across the counter and looked around to make sure Mama wasn’t nearby. “Hey, Burma. Have you gone up to the playground? Do you know anything about the skeleton? Mama won’t let us check it out.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry, son. I’m staying out of the way. Besides, I don’t need to go looking for news. News tends to walk right through the front door of my shop and make itself comfortable in the chairs.” He chuckled and paid for his coffee. “You know how it is.”

  I might as well have tossed my hopes alongside the coffee beans Liberty was pouring into the grinder.

  He eyeballed my head. “Speaking of… You’re looking shaggier than a stray dog.”

  I ran my fingers through my hair with a slim hope it would look less wild.

  Burma shook his head. “Now you’ve gone and made it worse. But if I know your mama, she’ll have you come in to see me before school starts.”

  She probably would.

  “Harley in yet? I want to ask him about this wart on my finger.”

  I shook my head. “Should be in soon.”

  Harley was my gramps. And before he retired and became the town philosopher—as Mama called him—he had been the town doctor. He’d spent plenty of time both bringing people into the world and seeing them out of it. Most everyone still called him Doc. Mama and Burma were the only ones who called him by his actual name. Probably ’cause Burma and Gramps had been friends since they were kids.

  Burma leaned in. The scent of his aftershave floated over the counter. “Is my Ruth flower here?”

  Justice, with a dish towel draped over his shoulder, pushed a tray stacked with dirty coffee mugs and crumb-filled plates across the counter toward me. “Don’t you mean feather? Ruth Feather? She’s here. Her sister too.”

  Burma grinned at him. “No, son. I mean my flower.” Then he winked.

  From the doorway, Liberty caught my eye and pointed her finger down her throat, pretending to gag. Justice’s brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “Romance
befuddles him even more than vocabulary, Burma,” I said. “His brain misfired one day in the fourth grade after we watched a video on puberty.”

  Liberty snickered. “Yeah. I think the idea a girl might like him one day scared him near to stupid. I told him that was something he shouldn’t ever worry about though.”

  Burma’s eyes twinkled. “I see.”

  “Miss Ruth and Miss Meriwether sat down a few minutes ago—just before Tick arrived,” I said. “They’re in their usual spot, talking about the skeleton probably. Miss Meriwether seems to be not-so-merry today,” I warned.

  “Crankier than usual, eh?” He grabbed Mama’s small vase of fresh cut flowers that sat next to the cash register, then hurried off to join the Feather sisters.

  * * *

  A half hour later Liberty, Justice, and I circulated the bookstore wiping down tables and straightening chairs. Apparently, since Tick hadn’t shared anything of interest, the morning crowd had taken it upon themselves to witness the to-do at the playground firsthand, leaving a path of empty chairs and lipstick-stained cups wider than Sherman’s March to the Sea. No doubt Lib, Jus, and I were the only ones in town not at the playground.

  I dropped Miss Meriwether’s, Miss Ruth’s, and Burma’s empty dishes onto my tray with a clatter. A teacup rattled in its saucer and threatened to tip over but didn’t. I picked up the tiny vase and plopped it down too.

  Daddy had always been a stickler for duty—probably got it from Gramps. But I bet he would’ve left the dishes and cut out to see a skeleton…maybe.

  I sighed. No, he wouldn’t. Not if he’d already said he’d help Mama. He had been a man of his word. Mama and Gramps and Tick all told me that.

  I spun around and collided into Tick.

  “Whoa there, Coop.” The vase toppled into his hands. “Sorry—wasn’t expecting you to turn around so quickly.” He stared at the vase before setting it back on my tray. “Your flowers are missing.”

  “Burma.” I figured that was explanation enough.

  “Ah. Hey, if I dropped off a poster for the clothing drive the police are sponsoring, would you tape it somewhere it’d be seen?”

  “Sure.”

  His hands rested on his holster belt and he looked at my tray full of cups and plates. “You do a good job helping your mama, Coop. Your daddy would’ve been proud of you.”

  I looked away. “I suppose so.”

  He grabbed my shoulder. “Oh no, you don’t. What’s wrong? You don’t think your daddy would be proud?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s face it. Doing dishes and shelving books at the café hardly screams heroic. It’s not even close to being like a Marine.”

  Tick leaned against the bookcase and crossed his arms. “Two things, Coop.”

  I looked at him.

  He held up a finger. “One—there are no thirteen-year-old Marine heroes in the world. Cut yourself some slack.”

  I smiled. Yeah. Maybe. I guess even Daddy wasn’t a Marine hero when he was my age.

  “Two,” Tick said, holding up another finger. “Your dad had his talents, and you have your own. You’re the best problem solver I’ve met. You’ve got a good, logical brain. Your mama tells me you designed a new inventory-tracking spreadsheet.”

  “Yeah, well, that was just so I didn’t have to waste my whole summer using that old system she had.”

  Tick shook his head. “The reason doesn’t matter. You’re a talented kid and on your way to being a great man, Coop. Give yourself time. And believe me when I say you have done your daddy proud.” He smiled. “Now, tell me you believe me, so I can get my coffee and get back to work.”

  “Okay, fine. I believe you,” I said.

  Tick stepped back to let me through and followed me to the counter. “I need to order some coffee for the team at the crime scene. I’m about to head back.” He pulled out his wallet.

  I shook my head. “You know Mama’s rules. Anyone in uniform gets free coffee—pretty sure that includes your CSI team. You’ll get me grounded.”

  He smiled. “I doubt that. But to be on the safe side, we’ll do it your way.” He pulled out a twenty, stuffed it in the tip jar next to the register, and winked at me. “Your mama never said anything about not tipping the help, though.”

  Justice came back from his station by the front window—where he’d been pretending to wash tables while he peered down the street in the direction of the playground—and peeked into the normally empty jar. “Wow! Sweet! Thanks, Deputy.”

  I circled around the counter and checked the level of coffee. “I’ll need to grind more beans. It’s going to take a few minutes.” I turned my head toward the kitchen. “Hey, Lib! Bring out some beans, will ya?”

  Tick checked his watch and frowned.

  Inspiration hit like a blast of air-conditioning. “Tell you what, Tick. Since you’re obviously in a hurry and this’ll take some time, why don’t you head out? I got an idea.”

  The swinging door thwopped back and forth, and Liberty plopped a large bag of unground coffee beans on the counter.

  I stepped on Lib’s foot, signaling her to stick around. “Mr. Gordon installed delivery baskets on our bikes a couple weeks back. Give us time to brew a jug of joe, and we’ll bring it with all the fixings over to y’all at the playground.” I looked at the clock behind the register. “It might not be until around eleven that we make it there. Will that be too late for coffee?”

  “It’s never too late for coffee, Coop. Ask any police officer.” Tick grinned. “But doesn’t your mama need you in the shop?”

  Mama had wanted our help that morning, but now that she’d had time to get some work done, maybe we could cut loose. As if divinely directed, Gramps walked through the swinging door of the kitchen.

  “Hey, Coop.” He squeezed my shoulder.

  Gramps was tall and strong, just like Daddy had been, though Tick stood a good three inches taller. He dished out the kind of hugs that stayed with you for an entire day. Gramps pulled an apron over his head of hair that refused to turn gray and nodded a greeting to Tick.

  “Gramps! Perfect timing.” I smiled casually. “Can you watch over the place? We got an important errand for Tick.”

  “Please, Doc,” Justice said. “We’re dying to see—”

  I stomped on his foot.

  “—how well the delivery baskets work.”

  A small frown creased his forehead. “Hold on, son. You check with your mama?”

  There was nothing for it. I headed for the back room. Clutching the doorframe, I explained our plan. “Please, Mama. Gramps is here.” I took a deep breath. I didn’t want to sound whiny. Goodmans don’t whine—I remembered that from Daddy too. “We won’t cause any trouble. I promise.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You best not get underfoot. You take the coffee over, set stuff up, and come straight back, you hear?”

  “Yes, ma’am! Thank you!” I left before she could change her mind.

  “And Coop?”

  I stopped and turned. “Ma’am?”

  She poked her head out the storeroom door. “I know everyone’s curious, but remember it’s a grave.” Her eyes held a hint of sadness. “Show respect for the dead.”

  Chapter 5

  Lib, Jus, and I arrived at the playground with three large jugs filled with hot coffee in our baskets, along with a bag stuffed with cups, sugar, and creamers.

  “Sheesh.” Liberty balanced a jug on her hip and dropped her bike to the dirt. “The whole town’s here.”

  “I bet Dollar Daze is closed for the morning—there’s Mr. Ponti.” I nodded toward where Mr. Ponti chattered with Willy the postman. “And it looks like no one’s getting mail.”

  “Nobody’s getting any gas, either,” said Justice.

  Suds O’Leary, owner of Windy Bottom Gas and Bait, and the Feather sisters huddled together in conversation in
a prime observation spot near the front of the crowd. You could pick Suds out of a crowd a mile away. In a not-so-brilliant marketing move, he’d ordered two hundred puke-green T-shirts plastered with the phrase “SUDS GAVE ME GAS.” He’d said he hoped to “improve his market visibility” by selling them. He was visible, all right. But he was the only one who ever wore them.

  Even the bank manager, Mr. Rutherford Willis, surrendered to curiosity about the crime scene. Sure it was a sweltering ninety-five degrees in the shade, but he still wore a three-piece suit. I elbowed Liberty and pointed toward where he leaned against the side of his shimmering black Cadillac, silk tie and all. She rolled her eyes and snorted.

  We pushed our way through the crowd of onlookers who waited outside the black-and-yellow-striped crime scene tape surrounding the area around the playground.

  The playground was crawling with crime scene investigators in white jumpsuits. A TIPTON COUNTY CRIME SCENE UNIT van was parked near the construction trailer. The investigators were sifting through dirt, taking photos, or writing on clipboards. One CSI dumped shovelfuls of dirt from inside the excavator’s large scoop into a shallow box while another person gently shook the box back and forth, allowing the dirt to fall through the holes. Someone else put a soil sample into an evidence bag and sealed it with tape.

  Justice frowned. “What do you think they’re looking for?”

  Liberty came up behind him. “Probably evidence of some kind. Let’s get a closer look.”

  Tick stood talking with another police officer near an excavator. I handed over my coffee jug to Justice and whistled. Tick looked up and waved.

  Justice handed me back the coffee. “Do you think that’s the excavator that uncovered the skeleton?”

  “Hope so.” I grinned. “That’d be cool.”

  Suds O’Leary waved us over to where he stood near the front of crowd. “Make room now, folks.”