Path Of The Wicked Part 18

Cooper shut the door behind her and, after removing a pile of newspapers from the only other chair in the room, sat down and faced her boss. "Sir. Have you been sending Angela roses?"

Mr. Farmer blushed from the bottom of his cheeks to the bald spot in the center of his head. "Well, I-"

"Because I know you care about her and that you might believe she has feelings for Emilio. In a sense, she would like him to have feelings for her, just for vanity's sake, but the truth is that she wants a man to share her life with. The man she's waiting for is not Emilio." She stared intently at Mr. Farmer. "It's you."

Fl.u.s.tered, her boss's fingers twitched erratically and his pinkie hit the total b.u.t.ton on the adding machine. Numbers appeared on the thin strip of white paper as the machine buzzed in a wild frenzy of ink. Mr. Farmer reached out to turn it off, but he couldn't control the trembling of his hands, so Cooper walked around the desk and flicked the switch for him.

"You've got to make a bold statement, sir. Not roses. Something that declares how you feel in a big way. Prove to her once and for all that you're willing to take the risk and ask her to be with you." Cooper paused, wondering if she was making a grave mistake by issuing orders to her boss. "Forgive me for b.u.t.ting in here, sir, but she's been miserable lately and I think you have, too."

After a pregnant pause, Mr. Farmer issued the briefest of nods. Finally, without meeting Cooper's eyes, he murmured, "What should I do?"

For the moment, Cooper forgot her own troubles. Perhaps she could balance out her reckless act of breaking into Frank's house by finally bringing Angela and Mr. Farmer together. With a grin, she resumed her seat across from her boss. "Don't worry, sir. I have an idea."

Cooper's first appointment after lunch was at an unexpected location. Lali Gupta had phoned earlier in the day and requested an annual service contract with Make It Work!

"The director asked for you personally." Angela handed Cooper a work order. "They've got a busted copier and fax machine. Get her to sign our annual contract form before you leave, too. Mr. Farmer is going to give them a special rate 'cause they're a nonprofit. He's got such a big heart, that man." Opening the makeup compact that was never far from reach, Angela reapplied a layer of scarlet lipstick. "He asked me to stay late tonight. We've never worked a minute past five before. I can't imagine what he's up to."

"Me, either," Cooper replied innocently. "But he's got some nasty-looking spreadsheets in his office, so it can't be anything fun."

Frowning in disappointment, Angela returned to her desk while Cooper slid the Door-2-Door paperwork onto her clipboard and headed out to a work van. Emilio intercepted her before she could open the driver's door.

"Hey, gorgeous." Emilio leaned against the van, his knuckles pushing his biceps outward. "How was the weekend? Did you sit around, eat bonbons, and maybe wonder just for a minute what I was doin'? 'Cause I was thinkin' about you. Let's go out tonight. I became good buddies with one of the chefs at Ruth Chris. We could eat like kings. What do ya say?"

Emilio was the last person Cooper wanted to see at the moment. Hoping to run him off, she opened one of the van's rear doors, planted her toolbox firmly on the floor, and slammed the door shut. Giving him a wide berth, she walked back to the front of the van. "I had a lovely weekend, thank you. I ate a bunch of fried food, broke into an old man's house with my boyfriend, received a threatening note from a serial killer, went to church, and then turned myself into the police because I broke the law and I d.a.m.ned well knew it. In fact, I'm waiting for a phone call from one of the detectives who's probably going to tell me to get my a.s.s down to the station before his coffee gets cold, so if you'll excuse me, I'd like to get to this next job as quick as I can."

Instead of being repelled by Cooper's caustic demeanor, Emilio inched closer to her. "You don't need to make up stories to impress me. I already think you're awesome."

"Well, the feeling's not mutual!" Cooper snapped and then jumped into the van and locked the door.

As she sped off, Emilio stared after her. "She likes this cat-and-mouse game, but I'm not a patient guy." His mind conjured a fantasy scene in which Cooper served him a gigantic rib-eye while modeling skimpy lingerie. "Time to get rid of this so-called boyfriend. She needs a real man."

Emilio turned back to the office, hoping to flirt with Angela until she gave him some useful information about Cooper's boyfriend. Whistling Wild Thing, Emilio strutted across the parking lot, his wavy, dark hair blowing in the wind and his eyes narrowed in determination. At that moment, he looked more like a wolf than a man.

When Cooper approached Lali Gupta's desk, she was shocked by the woman's appearance. Lali was a wreck. Her black hair was stringy and dull, her eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and her blouse was wrinkled and had been b.u.t.toned incorrectly. Even her nails had been chewed into jagged fragments. Cooper wished she could find a way to comfort the unhappy woman, but she knew that only the police could offer Lali the kind of resolution she desperately needed.

Despite knowing the answer, Cooper asked the volunteer director how she was holding up. Lali sighed heavily. "There was a story in Sunday's paper about the suspicious deaths of our clients. I knew it would come out sooner or later, but the timing is really awful because we just sent out our quarterly requests for funding last week. We've had two corporate accounts already call this morning to say that they'll be donating to a different cause in the future as they don't want their names connected to our troubles."

"That's awful."

"If we lose any more benefactors, we're going to have to turn away clients." Lali rubbed her temples. "I can't stand the thought of saying no to people who have a true need for our services. I don't even know where we're going to sc.r.a.pe together the money to pay for our current clients."

Cooper observed the men and women seated in nearby cubicles. Every one of them was engaged in a phone conversation, and as Cooper worked on the broken fax machine located in the middle of the row, it became obvious that the Door-2-Door staff was putting every ounce of their energy into garnering donations. Even though their pleas were replete with pa.s.sion and conviction, most of them hung up their phones without having secured any funds.

Angrily twisting a screw into place, Cooper reflected that the Door-2-Door killer had already stolen the lives of several helpless elderly men and women, but now, the villain was also diminishing the chances for other aged Richmonders to receive the meals they desperately needed.

"It's out of our hands now," Cooper reminded herself with a whisper.

When her repair on the fax machine was complete, she packed up her tools and relocated to a hallway outside the conference room. The copier, a refurbished Canon image-Runner 6000, looked as though it hadn't been serviced since it left the factory. Cooper accessed the interior of the machine and began her a.n.a.lysis of the existing problems. She was so absorbed in her work that she didn't notice a pair of black boots appear behind her toolbox. She gazed up to see Campbell standing there, his ma.s.sive arms on his hips and a playful smirk on his face.

"Well, well. So you're our repairman, eh? A woman wielding tools is a cool thing. It's easy to forget that our volunteers have lives outside of my kitchen." He stroked the braid hanging down from his beard. "I won't be seein' you guys this weekend." He blinked and the amused glimmer vanished. "Keep an eye on things for me, would you?"

Cooper's mind raced. Did Campbell realize that the killer was likely one of his Friday or Sat.u.r.day volunteers? Was he leaving town because he was guilty?

"Of course I will," she a.s.sured him. "But I don't quite give off the same vibe of authority as you do. Guess I could rent one of those muscle suits, but there's no chance of me growing a Fu Manchu by Sat.u.r.day." She wiped her hands on a rag. "So where are you off to?"

"I've gotta run to the beach. There's this girl there. Aurora. She's a bartender at one of the big hotels on the strip. She rides a Harley, she sings like an angel, and she's tough as nails."

"And pretty?"

The light returned to Campbell's eyes. "The most beautiful woman to ever walk this earth. And I'm gonna meet her folks for lunch on Sat.u.r.day. She wants to be serious about our relationship and if this is what it takes to officially make her my own, then I'll meet her family, her preacher, her high school teachers, her Girl Scout leader-anybody!"

Cooper wiped some ink from her wrench and smiled. "I heard that you've liked this woman for a long time but she didn't really, um, return your affection. How'd you get her to change her mind?"

"With this." Campbell turned his back on Cooper and then yanked his tight black T-shirt over his head. A spectrum of colors covering the skin of his back was suddenly revealed. Cooper found herself staring at the biggest tattoo she had ever seen. It began as blue waves on his lower back-an ocean filled with tropical fish and fingers of coral. Above the curls of white foam in the middle of Campbell's back, porpoises leapt from the surf. An enormous sunrise, created with dazzling yellows, oranges, and hot pinks, spread from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Striped sunrays radiated outward from the edges of Campbell's shoulders to the base of his neck. Doves carrying red roses in their beaks flew upward toward the ornate black letters spelling out the name Aurora.

"Wow," Cooper breathed.

Campbell pulled his shirt down over the taut muscles of his back and swiveled around. "That's what Aurora said. She figured I must really want the real thing with her to do what I did."

Cooper nodded. "Yeah, I would say so! That's a pretty permanent gesture."

"She's all I ever wanted." Campbell held out his hands as though he meant to grab the handlebars of his bike. "In a few days, it'll be time to ride to my lady. Anita's filling in for me this weekend, but help her keep an eye on everybody. If I catch the piece of sc.u.m that's been messin' with my food, I'm gonna think of all new uses for that deep freeze."

"I'll do my best," Cooper promised him and then watched as he walked away, his burly figure buoyed by a litheness that could only be attributed to happiness.

He's not the killer, she thought. Like Erik, Campbell is motivated by love instead of money. So who wants money, or to deliberately hurt old folks, more than anything else? That's our murderer.

Before she had the chance to review her mental list of remaining suspects, her phone rang. Swallowing, she saw that the number belonged to a Taylor Rector. She was being summoned.

Nathan happened to call her cell right after she got off the phone with Investigator Rector and he insisted on accompanying her to the police headquarters. Although Cooper argued with him over his decision as she drove toward Parham Road, he wouldn't take no for an answer.

"I was with you, remember?"

"You wouldn't have been there if I'd just kept my big mouth shut about what I was doing. I refuse to let you get in trouble with the cops because you were trying to be a good boyfriend."

"It took me long enough!" Nathan countered. "I kept putting work before you. Not anymore, Cooper."

Though pleased by his comment, Cooper couldn't let Nathan share the blame for her rash behavior. "I'm pulling into the parking lot and I refuse to tell you who I'm here to see. Please wait for me out in the lobby, Nathan. Just knowing you're close by will mean the world to me."

Nathan mumbled something noncommittal and said good-bye.

After checking in at the front, Cooper was led through a warren of desks by a stern-faced and uncommunicative officer until they reached a wooden door bearing Investigator Rector's name on a bra.s.s plate.

The investigating officer was not what Cooper had expected. He was about her age and, due to his ruddy cheeks and freckled nose, had a boyish appearance. His hair was roguishly wavy and his brown eyes, tinged with green, were framed by a sweep of dark eyelashes that most women would kill for. A file folder was open in the center of a disheveled desk and, by pointing at one of the two empty chairs pushed against the back wall, Rector indicated that Cooper should sit while he wrapped up his phone conversation.

Swallowing nervously, she noticed that Aaron Crosby's diary had been transferred to an official plastic evidence bag and was placed in a prominent position on the policeman's desk.

"Ms. Lee, I presume?" Investigator Rector said rhetorically as he replaced his phone receiver with a firm click into the cradle.

"Guilty as charged," Cooper replied and then silently cursed herself for such a poor choice of words.

Rector raised his brows, unamused by her quip. "Breaking into a sealed crime scene is a felony, Ms. Lee. In certain circ.u.mstances, you could be looking at a steep fine." He held up a thin sheaf of stapled papers. "I've checked you out. Fortunately, you've got a clean record. Not even a moving violation in the past six months, so what made you suddenly decide to tamper with evidence and hinder a police investigation?"

Cooper took a deep breath. "I wasn't trying to interfere with your case, sir. I paid a visit to Frank Crosby's son and he told me about the existence of a diary and a sword. Until then, it didn't seem like there was anything valuable in Mr. Crosby's house and that he had been killed for no reason." She gazed at the diary. "It had been a long time since The Colonel, I mean, Edward Crosby, had been in his daddy's house. He and Frank didn't get along and I didn't want to waste your time unless he was telling the truth about those items, so I went to look for them myself."

Rector's eyes flashed, but his lips curved into the hint of a smile. "You were just watching out for us, is that it? Didn't want us to waste valuable manpower?"

Cooper's falsified tale withered under Rector's scrutiny. "I met Frank Crosby. He was nervous, and bitter, and, I'm ashamed to say this, but a little disgusting, too. His house was a mess, his clothes were gross, and he had no one to care for him. The biggest highlight of his day was when he could get his hands on the neighbor's newspaper so he could work the puzzles."

After a pause, Rector said, "Go on."

"I pitied Frank. I wished for a better life for him." Cooper gazed at her hands. "And I was grateful to him, too, for he made me realize that I had so much to be thankful for. With his son in jail, I felt a responsibility to find out what happened to him. I know that might not make sense to you, but when I thought about someone stealing from and then . . . poisoning my own Grammy, I just couldn't sit by and wait. Something . . . inside drove me to act."

"Tell me about the sword," Rector prompted.

"Edward told us that his father kept Aaron Crosby's sword in his bedroom closet. It was supposed to be in excellent shape and Frank liked to take it out of its scabbard every now and again to clean it. I don't know any other details about it, but maybe Edward does."

Rector pivoted in his chair and turned his attention to his computer keyboard. "Let's see." His fingers worked rapidly. "According to this auction site, Civil War swords complete with scabbard sell for a range of six hundred to three thousand dollars."

"That's it?" Cooper was shocked. "Frank got killed for that amount of money?"

"People have been killed for much less, Ms. Lee. Still, it makes me wonder if money is this guy's main motive after all," Rector mumbled to himself. "Our killer is angry with senior citizens for some reason. He or she wants to get rid of them, but doesn't have what it takes to do it with his own hands. Therefore he poisons them so they just slip away."

"He can feel less guilt that way," Cooper suggested quietly. "As though he's done them a kindness by relieving them of their sad lives. It's almost as though he hates them, but cares about them, too."

Studying her again, Rector folded his hands together. "And were you alone when you went to Frank's? I'm just asking out of curiosity."

"My boyfriend was with me. I . . . I didn't want him to come but he was worried about my safety. Truthfully, I should have tried harder to convince him to stay home," she confessed hurriedly. "He tried to talk me out of going, though. He and my friends were in agreement that we should leave everything in the hands of the police."

"Nathan Dexter is another member of the ill.u.s.trious Sunrise Bible study, right?"

Stunned at the amount of information the investigator seemed to have gathered, she nodded. "Yes."

"Don't be too impressed." The officer grinned, shuffling papers around. "I ate lunch with Investigator McNamara today. I'm sure you remember him. He had a lot to say about you."

McNamara had been the lead investigator in the murder case Cooper and her friends had been involved with during the spring of last year. The officer had treated them courteously, and had even shared Scripture quotes with them, but, when all was said and done, had sternly ordered them to cease their sleuthing. McNamara was older than Rector and had a fiercer intensity about him, but Cooper knew that Rector's youthful face could easily belie an unbending determination to uphold the law, no matter what explanations she provided in her own defense.

"There's something else I should tell you." Cooper inhaled and then hastily described the message left on her truck.

The policeman jerked upright in his chair, his eyes alert and excited. "The killer was following you! We might be able to use this." He twiddled his thumbs as he thought. After a few moments, he seemed to recall that Cooper was in the room. "All right, Ms. Lee, you're free to go. I merely wanted to discover if you'd found anything that might prove useful to us and it seems that you have." His expression turned pensive. "I may call on you to do something for me in the immediate future. Something to bait our suspect into revealing his ident.i.ty. Would you be interested in cooperating with us?"

Cooper exhaled in relief. Standing, she grasped the investigator's outstretched hand and pumped it heartily. "I'll help you any way that I can!"

"No so fast," he added sternly. "I'd also like your word that you and your friends are officially off the case. Should some clue or piece of useful information come your way, you are to contact me directly. Otherwise, until I get in touch, the Sunrise Sleuths are officially retired. Is that crystal clear?"

"Yes."

Rector raised his left brow. "I'm sure, being that you're a faithful churchgoer, that I can take you at your word. Have a nice day."

Cooper walked down the hallway with a much lighter step, uttered a quick prayer of grat.i.tude for being able to share what she knew with the young investigator without reprisal, and then burst through the lobby doors.

Nathan, who had been pacing back and forth near a row of plastic chairs, looked at her anxiously. She responded by swiftly closing the distance between them. Throwing her arms around his neck, she smiled. "It's okay! We just had a nice, civilized discussion."

"Good!" Nathan lifted her from the ground in celebration. The movement caused her purse to drop from her shoulder. Though its contents spread across the marble floor in a noisy clatter, Cooper still clung to Nathan.

"Watch out!" he cautioned, releasing his hold. "You're about to step on your phone." He scooped it off the ground and then watched as Cooper shoved her wallet, car keys, sungla.s.ses, a packet of tissues, a lip gloss, and a roll of Life Savers back into her purse.

"I've got to grab a drink of water," she said and shrugged her purse back onto her shoulder. "My mouth went so dry back there." Spying a sign for the restrooms, Cooper squeezed Nathan's arm. "Be right back."

By the time she turned the corner and headed off to where the restrooms, pay phones, and water fountains could be found, Cooper was too far away to hear her cell phone's customized Beatles text message alert go off.

Nathan looked at the vibrating phone in his hand and, out of sheer habit, pressed the b.u.t.ton that would allow him to read the incoming text message. Staring at the display window, his face fell as he read the black letters that appeared in the field of silver: Can't W8 2 B alone w/ U in the break room again. I want 2 smell the perfume I gave U. XOXO Emilio The cell phone went quiet and then, as Nathan tried to fully comprehend the message, the phone broke into song for the second time and a second message appeared on the screen: I'M WAITING Nathan jabbed the end b.u.t.ton until the screen went dark. He experienced such a tumult of mixed emotions that he didn't know what to feel. At that moment, Cooper returned, wearing an exuberant smile. She locked her arm in his and together, they stepped outside.

Leaves tripped down the sidewalk and the flags whipped back and forth in the late afternoon breeze. Cooper inhaled the crisp air with renewed appreciation and sent a wayward stick scuttling into the gra.s.s with a playful kick.

"Now that the interrogation is over, I've got to call Ashley," Cooper stated. "As long as her surgery went well, then this has turned out to be a pretty good day after all."

As they walked toward the parking lot, Cooper told Nathan about seeing Campbell at Door-2-Door. When she was finished, Nathan gave her the phone he had been gripping so tightly in his right hand.

"It's amazing what a guy will do to impress a woman," he remarked wryly, but Cooper was too happy to notice the acerbic tone to his voice. She kissed him, thanked him again for standing by her, and then got into her truck, her thoughts already focused on Ashley.

At home, Grammy and Earl were arguing over the directions Maggie had written regarding the preparation of their dinner.

"It's a chicken pot pie, son. Just stick it in the oven for a spell. If you poke your finger in the middle and get burnt, then it's ready to eat."

"I'm right sure this is a three." Earl pointed at a sheet of notepaper. Seeing Cooper, he thrust the instructions at her. "What do you think?"

Reading over her mother's hasty scrawl, Cooper set the oven, pulled a tossed salad from the fridge, and then shook up a mason jar containing homemade poppy seed dressing. "How's Ashley, Daddy?"

"Just fine," Earl answered, spreading open his newspaper. "Your mama's gone to fix her supper. Says your sister's a bit tired, but in high spirits. I take it they mended everythin' that needed fixin'."

"Was Lincoln there?" Cooper placed a pair of wooden salad forks in the center of the table.

After nodding, Earl turned his attention to his paper. Meanwhile, Grammy had settled herself at the kitchen table and was giving Cooper one of her eagle-eyed stares.

"You never came home Friday night, girlie," she said with a cackle. "You and that boy are finally startin' to act your ages. 'Bout time you took a roll in the hay. You've been chaste as a nun for far too long."

No one responded. Earl pretended to be absorbed in an article about declining interest rates while Cooper gathered silverware from the drawer next to the sink, her neck flushing pink.

Grammy had erroneously a.s.sumed that Cooper and Nathan had had s.e.x, but Cooper decided not to bother correcting her. After all, she hoped that she'd have more sleepovers with her boyfriend in the near future. Until then, it was time to follow Aurora's lead. The woman was right in inviting Campbell to meet her family in order to cement the seriousness of the relationship.

"Any plans this weekend, Daddy?" Cooper asked and handed Grammy an orange napkin.

Earl shrugged. "Nothin' special." He looked sideways at his mother. "You'd know better than me."

Grammy shook her head. "Just another bake sale at church. Why, granddaughter? You got somethin' excitin' in mind?"

Cooper sat across from her and smiled. "Exciting to me. I'd like to invite Nathan here for Sunday dinner. It's time for you all to meet each other."