Cooper watched Trish welcome Lali, Anita, and a man she a.s.sumed was Anita's husband. "I'm glad Trish sent the girls home. I'm sure she didn't want them exposed to someone dangerous. After all, there's a wicked person among us, Jake."

"I see what you're sayin'." Jake nodded thoughtfully.

"Did Trish hire a band?" Cooper pointed at a raised platform in the corner, which held three microphones, an amplifier, a keyboard, and a drum set.

"That would be so cool!" Bryant said, having arrived a few minutes behind Cooper. "And here I always thought Trish was so uptight, but I must be wrong. We've got spiked punch and maybe some rock music. What a gig!"

Jake laughed. "Before you get your Sat.u.r.day Night Fever on, I asked her about the little stage over there. It's just been set up for some guy's surprise birthday party. They're usin' this room after us for some late-night bash to celebrate him turnin' twenty-one."

Bryant sighed. "I remember my twenty-first. It was awesome."

"If Trish were standing here, she'd tell you that you still believe you're twenty-one," Cooper teased.

"You're only as young as you think you are," Bryant quipped.

"Or as young as the girls you date." Jake nudged him playfully in the side. "Did you ask out that woman you work with yet?"

Nodding, Bryant smiled. "And her kids! I took them bowling. First of all, I never realized how much food kids can pack away. Popcorn, pretzels, hot dogs, pitchers of soda, and then ice cream for dessert. You should have seen the debris scattered across the table! Secondly, I've never been so badly beaten by an entire family during a casual game of knock-down-the-pins. Paige outscored me by twenty and somehow still managed to make me feel like I was the best bowler in the room."

"She sounds like a real special lady," Jake said. "I think you're gonna have a lot of fun with her and her kids. I'm right glad you took her out, my man."

"Me, too." Bryant grinned sheepishly.

"Okay, friends." Quinton gestured toward the tables. "Let's start socializing. I've been a.s.signed Madge and Eugene. Eugene ought to be easy enough to cross off the list. He always has to go along with someone who can drive, so unless he's been stealing things on the sly during deliveries, he's in the clear." Quinton glanced at the young man, who was putting a face on a pumpkin using a permanent marker, his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated. "Not that I can see him hurting anyone. He seems completely content, so what would be his motive for taking other people's treasures?"

As Quinton walked away, Cooper reflected on his comment. What was the thief's motive? Money? Did they sell the objects they stole? Did they feel humiliated or overlooked and needed to prey on folks they could overpower? Were they seeking revenge against the elderly?

Cooper watched as Jake and Quinton seated themselves at different tables and began to strike up conversations. Shaking her head, she wondered if any of her friends truly possessed the ability to determine whether one of the volunteers fit the profile of a thief and possible murderer.

"You all right?" Nathan whispered, placing his hand on the small of her back. "You look lost in thought."

"This just feels wrong. We should be saluting these folks and celebrating all they do, but we're here to wring out their secrets, hang them on the line, and then examine them with a magnifying gla.s.s."

"I know," Nathan replied softly. "But think of Mr. Crosby. He's all alone, as are so many of the old folks relying on Door-2-Door. If we don't protect them, who will?" His hand slid up her back and squeezed her shoulder, sending a tingle along the k.n.o.bs of her spine. "Just let your heart listen, Cooper. It'll know what to do."

Buoyed by Nathan's pep talk, Cooper joined Warren as he made his way to the food table. Picking up a paper plate covered by designs of a fruit-filled cornucopia, Cooper observed that Trish had also used coordinating cornucopia note cards to identify the dishes. The buffet line began with a cheddar-and-bacon dip accompanied by thin slices of homemade rye bread. Next was a green salad tossed with walnuts and goat cheese. Beyond that, a Crock-Pot filled with simmering corn chowder stood adjacent to a bowl of long-grain rice mixed with dried cranberries. The entree, which Trish had had catered from a nearby restaurant, was an elegant platter of sliced pork tenderloin in a wild mushroom sauce. A deep bowl of tri-colored pasta salad with black olives came next, followed by a colorful squash medley. A wooden bowl overflowing with autumn succotash was at the end of the long line of mouthwatering food.

Cooper loaded up a spoon with succotash, admiring how beautifully the hues of the lima beans, corn kernels, and bacon slivers complimented one another. When her plate could hold no more, she followed Warren past the dessert table, which contained her pumpkin crisp squares along with an apple strudel and a chocolate pecan pie.

"What a spread," Warren stated with admiration. "Seems like everyone in your Bible study is a great cook."

"We've gotten pretty spoiled on homemade baked goods," Cooper agreed. "Most of us can bake something. Except for Jake. He always picks up Krispy Kremes. Oh, and Trish. She doesn't cook anything-not even brownies from a box. She says she's got the cleanest oven in Richmond."

Warren laughed and Cooper felt herself relaxing. This wasn't so hard. All she had to do was make some jokes and ask some questions. Judging by the way Warren smiled at her between bites, Cooper felt certain that she'd at least glean a snapshot of Warren's life.

Placing his hand on the arm of an elderly lady wearing purple bifocals, Warren turned to Cooper. "This is my Nana Helen. She's got Alzheimer's. Don't mind her if she doesn't say much. This has been one of those days where she's been revisiting memories in her mind."

"Does she live with you?" Cooper asked, her heart warmed by the tenderness in Warren's eyes.

"Yeah. We're out in Louisa on what's left of their farm. My grandparents' farm, that is." Warren placed a cup of cider in Helen's hand. "But don't worry, it's not one of those sad, we-were-forced-to-sell-off-the-family-farm stories."

"That's good," Cooper said with relief. " 'Cause I hate those kind of farm stories."

"Me, too," Warren agreed. "My grandparents sold it so my dad and his brothers could go to college. A businessman made them an offer they couldn't turn down and now most of the land is covered by a subdivision called Fox Run."

Cooper took a sip of the spiked cider and enjoyed the feeling of its warmth flowing down her throat. "Why do they always name subdivisions after foxes or eagles or other creatures that wouldn't be caught dead living in the three trees left standing in the yards of those houses?"

"Or horses. There's got to be a thousand neighborhoods named after steeple chases or thoroughbreds or other equestrian terms, even though there hasn't been a horse within fifty miles of the place in this century." Warren laughed and waved at Campbell, Door-2-Door's kitchen manager, as the giant man pa.s.sed by them on his way back to the buffet table. "I'd name my subdivision something honest, like Box Hall or Pre-Fab Villas." Warren cut up Helen's pork into bite-sized pieces as she silently fed herself corn chowder. "There you go, Nana," he said, removing her empty soup bowl and placing the pork in front of her.

Cooper smiled at Warren. "Have you been volunteering at Door-2-Door for a long time?"

"A little over a year now," he answered. "I can remember exactly when because it was about the same time Nana's mind started drifting. I started to think about what life would be like for her if she didn't have family around her and I wanted to help people who didn't have that support." He replaced Helen's napkin, which had slid from her lap to the floor. "She's been inspiring me to give to others my whole life."

"And you do give up every Sat.u.r.day?" Cooper felt a p.r.i.c.k of guilt over persisting in her line of questioning. "Don't you need rest after your workweek?"

Warren thought about this for a moment and then shook his head. "I'm a delivery guy for LabTech. I pick up test samples all over town and bring them to the lab. I also bring supplies to the medical offices we run. I have no stress, I'm paid pretty well, and I'm off by four-thirty every day. No complaints. I figure I can spare a few hours on Sat.u.r.day. I get up early on Sat.u.r.days, anyway, so I can check out the most promising garage sales."

"So Sat.u.r.day's the only time you can drive a route?"

Warren nodded. "Yeah. I wish I could do more, but that's all I can do with my schedule right now. LabTech's got me on a split s.h.i.+ft on Friday so I can pack coolers at Door-2-Door. I like going there twice a week. Everyone is really nice. Even Campbell. He's just a big bear with a loud roar." He smirked. "It took me a while not to tremble every time I made a mistake packing coolers. It was like I half-expected Campbell to strap me to the back of his Harley and drive me to the nearest cliff."

At that moment, Brenda arrived at their table trailed by a young boy wearing gla.s.ses and holding a library book.

"Darik!" Brenda barked at him affectionately. "Put that book on the table and take your plate from your mama. I ain't gonna stand here all day waitin' on you."

Without replying, Darik seated himself at the table and held out his hands for a plate.

Brenda handed her son a napkin and then sat down between Darik and Cooper. "This is my son, y'all. Darik, say h.e.l.lo."

"Pleased to meet you," the boy said softly, keeping his eyes fastened on his plate.

"You stole one of our clients, Warren?" Brenda joked as she waved at Helen.

Warren explained who she was and Brenda beamed at him. "You're a fine grandson, Warren. This is how it's supposed to be-folks takin' care of the old instead of shuttin' them in some home with a bunch of strangers or leavin' them to fend for themselves." She glanced sideways at Darik. "Oh, I'm sorry, baby. Let's thank the Lord so you can eat." She and Darik bowed their heads, clasped their hands on the table, and whispered a prayer. "And thank you, Jesus, for so many reasons to celebrate! Amen!" Brenda ended by saying and Darik echoed her amen with an equal amount of enthusiasm.

"What did you make at that glorious table?" Brenda asked Cooper.

"One of the desserts," Cooper answered. "If anyone has room after the rest of the meal."

"Honey, I'll have plenty of s.p.a.ce!" Brenda declared, gesturing at her formidable belly. "You'd think I'd get tired of food, bein' that I work as a cas.h.i.+er at Kroger and see nothin' but things to shove in my mouth all day long." She sighed. "But heaven help me, I love to eat!"

"Being a cas.h.i.+er's got to be hard," Warren commented. "You're on your feet for so many hours."

Brenda's fork bobbed up and down in agreement. "You've no idea, sug! By the end of my s.h.i.+ft my back hurts, my feet hurt, and even my arms hurt from pus.h.i.+ng those heavy things like Tide and big 'ole cases of beer across the scanner. I work like an ox and am still barely hangin' on." She put her arm around Darik's shoulders. "Good thing this one don't eat too much, but he's little now. I've seen how teenage boys go at their food, and it's somethin' that'll put the fear of G.o.d in you! Three burgers, a gallon of milk, potato chips all night. Shoot, I'd better have made s.h.i.+ft manager by the time Darik goes to junior high!"

"I'll get a job, too, Mama," the boy declared seriously and Brenda's smile was filled was pride.

"Yessir, you're a good worker, too, but I'd much rather see you read your books, son. That's the secret to movin' up in this world. Books." She eyed Cooper. "You work with books?"

Cooper held out her calloused hands. "No. I work with these." She told her tablemates about her job and the conversation flowed smoothly for another thirty minutes. Warren and Brenda offered to fetch enough dessert for all to share while Cooper refilled cups with apple cider. As she poured some of the nonalcoholic cider into Darik's cup, he looked at her curiously.

"How'd you get different-colored eyes like that?"

Cooper touched the skin just below the green eye. "I had an accident playing sports and I was given the green eye to help me see again."

"Wow," Darik breathed. "Do you have X-ray vision? Like Superman? I saw the movie at Jamaar's house. We don't have a TV. Mama says we can't afford one."

With a laugh, Cooper replied, "I can't see through walls, but that would be pretty cool. Still, if I could have magic powers, I'd rather fly." She told Darik about their family pet Columbus and the little boy listened raptly.

"That hawk got shot?" His dark eyes were round. "That's what happened to my daddy, too. But he's in heaven now. I mean, maybe he's in heaven." The boy looked doubtful. "Mama says Daddy wanted nice stuff but didn't wanna pay for it. He did bad things, but she won't tell me what. Then he got shot right here." He touched his chest and then clamped his lips shut as his mother approached.

"Lord, Darik! I'm gonna need to buy a bigger pair of pants if we stay here much longer!" She handed her son a plate of desserts and then dug the side of her fork into a large slice of apple strudel. "Mmm," she moaned and fanned her face with her hand. "I don't know what we did to deserve this party," she said to Cooper. "But I will bless the day you all decided to show up at Door-2-Door that Sat.u.r.day. It's the only day I volunteer and if Darik didn't play with his cousin every Sat.u.r.day, I'd've missed out bein' invited to this feast! We are sure grateful to you all."

"Yes, indeed," Warren said and toasted Cooper with his cider cup. "Thank you for showing us such generosity and appreciation. It's really nice to make new friends."

Flus.h.i.+ng at their words, Cooper felt a wave of shame flood through her. How would Warren and Brenda react if they found out that the purpose of the dinner was to seek out a villain?

She stared at the slice of chocolate pecan pie on her plate and sighed. Her stomach was too replete with rich food to squeeze in another morsel. Warren murmured to Helen as he named the selection of desserts for her. Her eyes twinkled as she picked up a bite-sized piece of strudel and then leaned into her grandson, who gave her a brief hug.

Suddenly, five men wearing s.h.i.+ny gray suits walked into the party. One of them carried a saxophone, one had a trumpet, and another held a clarinet against his chest. They headed directly for the stage, only to be intercepted by Trish, who gesticulated angrily between the raised platform and the tables filled with diners. It seemed as though one of the band members was desperately pleading with Trish and it was only when Bryant joined the fray that Trish's grimace finally melted away. Shrugging her shoulders in resignation, she returned to her table.

The band members fidgeted with their equipment and caused everyone to jump to attention when they conducted a sound check on the microphone.

"Good evening, folks!" The lead singer's voice filled the room. "We appreciate the opportunity to warm up before the birthday party begins in an hour. Rockin' Rob here has had a cold all week and we've gotta make sure he can play. Otherwise, we're gonna have to call in some backup. Anyone out there play the sax?"

Several of the Door-2-Door volunteers laughed as Eugene raised his hand.

"All right!" The band member nodded his head. "We'll keep you in mind, brother. And now, without further ado, we'd like to bring you the jumpin', jivin' tunes of Tommy Ziegler and the Capital City Swing Band!"

Instantly, the trumpet and saxophone burst into life, accompanied by a high-energy drumbeat. Tommy Ziegler began to sing, snap his fingers in time to the zippy music, and shake his hips behind the microphone stand. All around the room, heads began to bob and hands began to clap in time to the rhythm.

"Come on, baby!" Brenda shouted to her son. "Let's shake our stuff!" Darik bounced after his mother to the small square of clear flooring in front of the stand and the twosome began to dance, their faces s.h.i.+ning with delight.

Inspired, people abandoned their desserts and joined Brenda and Darik. Bryant took Trish in his arms and began to perform complicated swing-dance steps with her. At first, she seemed stiff and unrelenting, but after a few minutes, she was kicking up her heels like a Rockette. Nathan also made his way to the dance floor, and Cooper felt a fresh bout of jealousy as she noticed he was holding Lali's hand.

Where is Lali's husband? she wondered crossly and then saw that he was already dancing with Anita.

In order to avoid staring at Nathan, Cooper looked at Helen instead. She was smiling and clapping her hands, and as Cooper's eyes met Warren's, he stood up and offered her his hand. "I'm not much of a dancer, but I'd love the opportunity to step on your feet if you're willing."

"I am." Cooper laughed and took Warren's hand. Just as they made their way to the crowded s.p.a.ce between the tables and the stage, the frenzied swing song ended and Tommy and company began to sing a slow, romantic tune instead.

"Now I can really step on you," Warren said with a shy smile as he slipped his arm around Cooper's lower back.

Noticing that Nathan was now slow-dancing with Lali, Cooper allowed herself to move even closer into Warren's chest. He smelled pleasant, like a mixture of wet gra.s.s and soil. It was a scent that reminded her of her greenhouse and she felt surprisingly comfortable in his arms. Warren guided her into a graceful turn and then effortlessly reeled her back toward him.

"Whoa! You got some moves there, girl!" Jake shouted as he gently held on to Savannah and rocked her from side to side like an awkward pre-teen at a school dance.

"It's all my partner," Cooper confessed with a blush. "He's a strong leader."

Now Warren's cheeks turned pink. The song ended and Cooper thanked him, and then returned to her seat. Tommy Ziegler took a brief bow and then he and his bandmates set their instruments down. Glowing with exertion, Trish ran forward and invited them to partake of their potluck feast.

As the Capital City Swingers loaded their plates, several of the Door-2-Door volunteers gathered their coats and handbags and after thanking each member of the Sunrise Bible study, left for home. Cooper picked up her empty pumpkin square baskets and said good night to her friends. When Nathan offered to accompany her to her truck, she waved him off politely, longing for some fresh air and a few moments of silence in which she could ask G.o.d for forgiveness for practicing deception on such a fine group of people.

"There must be someone else to blame for these thefts," she spoke into the quiet as she drove the dark, one-lane road leading to her house. "Because if all the volunteers are anything like Brenda and Warren, we're accusing angels of being demons."

The next day, Cooper hurriedly dressed for church, anxious to hear what her friends had to say about the Door-2-Door volunteers they had spoken with the night before. She'd completed the last segment of her Amazing Joseph homework just before going to bed, but had felt distracted by remembrances of the party as she flipped through chapters of the Bible or scribbled terse answers in her workbook.

When she walked into the cla.s.sroom where the Sunrise group always met, she was pleased to note that her friends were already a.s.sembled there and waiting on her to begin.

"Who provided us with this lovely breakfast?" Savannah asked as Jake presented her with a flaky croissant brushed with melted b.u.t.ter and a salad made of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries topped by a dollop of creme fraiche.

"I did," Nathan answered. "I was still full from last night's dinner, so I thought I'd avoid our usual fare of iced pastries with a side of coffee cake. I know these croissants look heavy, but they're actually whole wheat and won't settle in your stomach like a pile of bricks."

"You oughta start your own cable show." Jake took an appreciative bite of croissant. "How many guys can come up with somethin' this good made out of wheat?"

Savannah smiled as she tore off the end of her croissant with her elegant, paint-stained fingers. "Maybe Bryant can propose it to his network."

Bryant mumbled something unintelligible and Nathan nudged his elbow. "Late night, Bryant?"

"Sometimes it's hard to keep pace with Paige. I don't know how she has so much energy after spending all day with her kids," Bryant admitted reluctantly.

"A single mom has no choice. She's got an entire family's worth of responsibility on her shoulders." Trish scrutinized Bryant over her coffee cup. "I know Paige is over thirty, but she sounds like she's really got it together. Are you considering getting serious with her?"

Bryant shrugged and Savannah took advantage of the momentary silence to change the subject. "Let's begin, shall we? Any prayer requests?

Quinton asked for a prayer for his nephew to heal quickly from a broken toe. "He shut it in the car door, poor kid," he explained. "Second time he's done that, too."

"I'd like to ask for some clarity in regards to a new client I've recently taken on," Nathan requested. "He brought me his product to photograph for the website and when I examined it, I don't know, let's just say I have my doubts about it."

"What's he hockin'?" Jake wanted to know.

"Muscle-building products," Nathan answered. "He says his goal is to help little guys bulk up and gain confidence. I like the idea of his product, but I'm just not sure it is what he says it is. However, I have no experience with herbal medicines."

"Maybe they're some kind of harmful steroid," Trish suggested, looking aghast at the idea.

Nathan held out his hands in supplication. "Everything appears to be above-board with his business. It's just a feeling I have about this particular product. I don't know anything about this type of item, so I have no right to a.s.sume that there's something wrong with it, but I can't seem to shake the possibility that my client and his goods aren't all that they appear."

Savannah nodded. "We'll pray for the Lord to guide you in this matter, Nathan. Anyone else?"

After a brief hesitation, Cooper spoke up. "I have a prayer request for my sister, Ashley. She and her husband have been trying to start a family for about a year now. Things are . . . getting tense between them. I just worry about her, well, getting depressed because she's not pregnant yet."

Several of Cooper's friends uttered sympathetic murmurs.

"I've got one, too." Jake sat forward in his chair and clasped his hands together over his closed workbook. "You know, when I was readin' about Joseph this weekend-when he gets thrown in the Egyptian slammer for some-thin' he didn't even do-do y'all know the part I'm talkin' about?"

"Yes, the first part of Genesis 40, after Joseph is falsely accused of fooling around with Potiphar's wife," Savannah said.

"Yeah!" Jake tapped on his Bible. "Anyway, I remember that Joseph asked his cellmate, the cupbearer guy, to mention him to Pharaoh when he got called to give his defense. Joseph was hopin' the cupbearer was a decent man and could help him get sprung from jail. Y'all with me?"