The Way of the Guilty Part 7

7.

"I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out."

Romans 7:18 (NIV) The next step in Cooper's investigation was to deliver the doc.u.ments in Miguel's personnel file to Quinton. After completing her last repair job of the day, she drove to Wawa to fill up her truck and buy a hazelnut decaf. As her truck gulped down over seventy dollars in gas, Cooper called Quinton at home and asked if he was free in the immediate future.

"Meet me tomorrow," was his cheerful answer. "Let's go to Jimmy's on West Broad and order breakfast. I could do with a three-egg omelet stuffed with mushrooms and provolone."

"A pound of j.a.panese food today and a pile of pancakes tomorrow?" Cooper laughed. "I'd better go on a mighty long run after work this afternoon. See you at Jimmy's."

She turned and waved at the line of drivers waiting to use the pump. At five-thirty, Wawa was even more crowded than usual. With the lowest gas prices in town, people were willing to spend extra time idling in line, but Cooper knew she'd be risking her life if she left her car at the pump in order to go inside for a cup of coffee. She moved her pickup to the only available parking spot at the rear of the convenience store. As she paused to toss yesterday's newspaper into the Dumpster, she noticed a familiar figure jump down from the pa.s.senger seat of a RoomStore furniture truck.

Their eyes met over a row of industrialsized trashcans. Edward Crosby smiled and strutted over to where she stood.

"You following me?" he demanded, popping a stick of gum in his mouth.

Cooper looked over his khaki pants and blue long-sleeved polo bearing the RoomStore logo.

He pointed at the embroidered letters on his chest. "Do I look better in this than in the last uniform you saw me wearing?"

Remembering the beige scrubs he'd worn in jail, she nodded. "Blue suits you. How do you like the job?"

Edward shrugged. "The money's c.r.a.p compared to what I made before." He snorted. "I could make this kind of paycheck in a single day without moving a muscle. Now I gotta carry entertainment centers up three flights of steps while some woman warns me not to get her carpet dirty." He shrugged. "But I've got another job I like better." Without elaborating further, he gestured at the store entrance. "If you're going in to buy something, let's go. This man needs a coffee and I gotta be back on the clock in thirty."

Inside, Cooper poured coffee into the largest cup Wawa sold. As she fitted on a lid, Edward leaned toward her and whispered, "What happened with that dude? The one in your sister's crib?"

Cooper avoided looking into Edward's shimmering gray eyes as she pa.s.sed him the coffee. "No one knows. Or at least I I don't. Neither Ashley nor her husband have received an update from the police." don't. Neither Ashley nor her husband have received an update from the police."

"Pfft!" Edward blew away a curl of steam escaping through a hole in his cup lid. "The men in blue ain't gonna report to your sister or to you. Shoot, girl. They forgot about you before the sun came up the next day." He shook his head in disdain. "Probably stuffed that Mexican boy's file into a drawer and moved on to bigger and better cases. They got things going on in my my part of town and folks are part of town and folks are watching watching them. That's what's important. You following what I'm saying?" them. That's what's important. You following what I'm saying?"

"They're all important!" Cooper retorted heatedly. "Justice is important!" is important!"

Edward stared at her, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing. "Whatcha gonna do with that anger, girl? Let it go to waste? Or are you gonna use it? Change the world with it?"

Cramming a lid onto her own cup, Cooper shot back, "I'm doing something, don't you worry!"

"Glad to hear it." Edward's hard look instantly softened and he gave her a satisfied smile as they joined the checkout line. "That's what's so amazing about you," he continued, his smile dissipating. "You felt that kind of anger on behalf of my daddy. When he died, n.o.body else gave his death a second thought. n.o.body gave a d.a.m.n, but you wouldn't let it go." He put his hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. "Because of what you did-the way you fought for righteousness-I've got your back 'til the day I die. I owe you, and a Crosby never forgets his debts."

Cooper didn't know what to say. She dropped her eyes and murmured her thanks.

"What was the Mexican boy's name?" Edward inquired as he picked up a package of Hostess cupcakes. "I could ask around-see if he was in my old line of work."

"This is a fake name, but it's what he went by." After scribbling Miguel's full name on a napkin, Cooper pa.s.sed it over to Edward. "Shouldn't you avoid those places?" she asked carefully. "What if ... you get drawn back in?"

"Nice to know you care." Edward returned the napkin to her. "Put your digits on here, too. In case I dig up anything in my spare time."

Cooper added her cell phone number to the napkin. She held it out to Edward and his hand shot out and closed around hers, forcing her to lose her balance and careen into his chest. "Of all the people in this town," he whispered into her hair, "I need you you to believe I have the power to change. Understand?" to believe I have the power to change. Understand?"

Once again, Cooper felt as though she could simply melt into Edward's chest. She wanted to linger in the moment, his breath stirring her hair, his hands capturing hers in a warm, strong grip. "I believe in you, Edward," she whispered back, her voice more husky than she'd intended.

"Now that's that's worth the price of coffee." Edward laughed and handed money to the cashier. "And maybe one of my cupcakes." He paused, as though debating the issue. "Nah. I'm keeping them both. I need the sugar rush." worth the price of coffee." Edward laughed and handed money to the cashier. "And maybe one of my cupcakes." He paused, as though debating the issue. "Nah. I'm keeping them both. I need the sugar rush."

He walked Cooper to her truck and held open her driver's-side door. "Be careful poking under rocks, girl. You never know what kinda creepy insect is hiding underneath. I can't watch you all all the time." the time."

"Watch me?" Cooper's heartbeat accelerated wildly. "What do you mean?"

"Like I said. I got your back." Edward winked and slammed her door shut. Without looking back, he jogged across the parking lot and climbed into the delivery truck's cab. The truck reversed to the accompaniment of high-pitched beeping and, after issuing a burst of noxious gray smoke, merged into one of the westbound lanes.

At home, Cooper listened to the message on her answering machine with relief. It was Nathan, imploring her not to go out of her way to cook him anything fancy for dinner as he'd had a filling lunch. Distracted by her run-in with Edward, Cooper doubted whether she could produce anything more complex than a BLT, but after taking an hour-long jog along the serene country road leading from the Lee house to the hamlet of Gum Creek, she felt settled enough to blend together eggs, vegetables, and cheese. She poured the mixture in a prebaked pie sh.e.l.l and took a deliciously hot shower.

Nathan arrived just as Cooper had finished drying her hair. He hung up his coat and the oven's timer went off. "Something smells good, though it doesn't seem possible that I could ever be hungry again after lunch at Grandpa Eddie's." He leaned against the counter and watched Cooper gather her hair into a ponytail. "My client and I split an okra basket and a barbequed rib and hot wing basket. After that, I still still managed to eat an entire pig sandwich managed to eat an entire pig sandwich and and peanut b.u.t.ter pie." Nathan washed his hands and began to chop the two tomatoes positioned on the cutting board. peanut b.u.t.ter pie." Nathan washed his hands and began to chop the two tomatoes positioned on the cutting board.

Drawing the asparagus and Swiss cheese quiche from the oven, Cooper scrutinized the browned crust and smiled. "You'll get your fill of vegetables tonight. The menu is quiche and tossed salad. And all I have for dessert is a box of Junior Mints."

"The perfect movie snack. If you don't have Milk Duds, that is."

Nathan placed the salad bowl in the center of Cooper's table and poured the wine. Over dinner, Cooper described the state of Miguel's apartment.

"Stacks of cold hard cash? Just sitting in a drawer?" He was intrigued. "Maybe Miguel's illegal status caused him to feel safer having his money at home instead of in a bank. A savings account means more paperwork."

"But he must have written checks," Cooper argued. "How else would he pay his bills?"

"With a credit card. He could charge his rent, his utility bills, food, gas, and anything else to the credit card and then send them a cashier's check each month to cover the minimum payment." Nathan helped himself to a large wedge of quiche. "This looks fantastic."

Cooper cut a smaller slice and lifted it toward her plate, leaving a trail of melted Swiss on the tabletop. "I hope Quinton comes up with a major lead. If he doesn't, you and I are going to have to visit some of Miguel's favorite karaoke clubs this weekend in hopes of finding someone someone who really knew him." who really knew him."

Nathan twirled a length of cheese around on his fork. "Um, I might have to drive back to Arlington this weekend." He studied his laden utensil intently. "Rob could use a hand painting his bas.e.m.e.nt, so I'll probably drive up Friday afternoon, before rush hour."

Rob was Nathan's college roommate, and though Cooper knew he was a close friend, she was surprised that Nathan planned to spend two weekends in a row in Arlington. Cooper contemplated another Sat.u.r.day night without her boyfriend and frowned.

How can Nathan believe that helping his friend paint is more important than helping me investigate Miguel's murder? she thought crossly. she thought crossly. Well, I'm not going to let Nathan's absence stop me. If I have to visit Miguel's haunts without a date, so be it. Well, I'm not going to let Nathan's absence stop me. If I have to visit Miguel's haunts without a date, so be it.

Aloud, she simply said, "I'll be thinking of you while sampling neon-colored drinks and listening to people sing 'I Will Survive' and 'Summer Nights' over and over."

" 'Summer Nights'? The song from Grease Grease?" Nathan shivered. "I hope the songs are more contemporary than that!" He laughed. "Better bring some ear plugs. If those folks sing like Rob or ..." he trailed off and shoved another bite of quiche into his mouth.

Cooper was disappointed and more than a little miffed that Nathan seemed perfectly willing to turn her loose in a crowded bar so that she could question a bunch of strangers while he painted his friend's bas.e.m.e.nt walls. Growing grumpier by the minute, she cleaned up the dinner plates in relative silence and then dumped the Junior Mints into a bowl.

The couple got comfortable on the couch and, after quickly devouring the chocolate-covered mints, watched a lackl.u.s.ter comedy in which a jilted wife exacted revenge upon her husband and his girlfriend (who turned out to be their son's science teacher). The final confrontation between husband and wife was especially slapstick and Cooper had never been so relieved to see the end credits appear on screen.

"That movie was a total flop," Nathan declared as he ejected the DVD from Cooper's machine. "I'll drop this off at Blockbuster on my way home. Thanks for a great dinner, Coop. Without you, I'd never eat my vegetables." He planted a brief kiss on her lips, squeezed her tightly, and then jogged out to his car.

Cooper watched his pea-colored BMW back out of the driveway. Long after the cylindrical beams from his headlights had been swallowed by the darkness, she stared out the window.

"Something's up with him," she muttered to her reflection. With a sigh, she turned away from the blue-black sky and pulled her flannel pajamas out of a drawer. When her mind recalled the sensation of Edward Crosby's breath in her hair, she pushed the memory aside and knelt down beside her bed to pray.

"Why am I thinking about the wrong man, Lord?" she whispered into her hands. "Why can't things just move forward with Nathan the way they're supposed to? And this whole thing with Miguel ... am I looking in the right places? I feel like nothing is clear, but I sense danger up ahead. Lord, I really could use Your help. Guide me and protect me. Amen."

When Cooper walked into Make It Work! the next morning after catching an early breakfast with Quinton, Angela met her at the door. Dressed in a tight red pencil skirt and a snug black sweater made from an enticing fuzzy material, Angela's ample curves were accentuated by a wide leather belt cinched tightly at the waist. A chunky bead necklace encircled her neck and her nails and lipstick were of the same tomato red as her skirt. Her platinum hair had recently been touched up at the roots and her fake eyelashes were especially dark and lush. Today, she'd applied her beauty mark just above her right cheekbone.

"You're a vision," Cooper complimented her friend. "Are you celebrating a special occasion or are you and Mr. Farmer going out on yet another hot lunch date?"

"This most certainly is is a special occasion!" Angela drawled. "We've landed a a special occasion!" Angela drawled. "We've landed a major major shredding account." She grabbed Cooper's arm. "We're gonna need a new truck and a new employee to drive it, 'cause the shredding account." She grabbed Cooper's arm. "We're gonna need a new truck and a new employee to drive it, 'cause the entire entire office park that opened off the interstate has signed up for our complete shredding service package. And they want us to start in office park that opened off the interstate has signed up for our complete shredding service package. And they want us to start in two weeks! two weeks! I can't wait to tell Mr. Farmer! We've got to get an ad in I can't wait to tell Mr. Farmer! We've got to get an ad in Job Finders Job Finders as of yesterday!" as of yesterday!"

"Get him to hire a woman. Even up the numbers around here." Cooper pointed toward the front doors. There was Emilio, leaning against the hood of a Trans Am as he flirted with one of the employees of the Sun G.o.ddess Tanning Salon located in the next building.

Angela shook her head. "You got a point there, darlin'. Look what happened when he signed on that Yankee Doodle Hunk."

Up until that moment, Make It Work! had remained small enough for Cooper and Ben to handle all the maintenance and repair requests. Then, Mr. Farmer had branched out into the doc.u.ment-shredding business and Emilio was brought on board. Cooper recalled how Emilio's arrival had disrupted the peace and camaraderie between the current employees and hoped the next new face wouldn't upset the group dynamic in the same manner.

"Mr. Farmer's not in yet?" Cooper was surprised. She glanced at the clock behind Angela's desk. "I don't think I've ever beaten him to work. He usually likes to pore over the latest issue of Wired Wired first thing in the morning." first thing in the morning."

"Don't I know it." Angela popped open her compact and puckered her lips in the mirror. "Do you have any idea what it's like to compete with a bunch of gadgets and gears? It's enough to drive a gal mad!"

"Come on, no machine could hold a candle to you," Ben stated gaily as he picked up the day's work orders from Angela's desk. "The boss man's parking his car. I think this is the only time I ever gotten to the office before him."

Mr. Farmer entered the reception area with an audible sigh and a listless wave. He slowly pushed a ski cap off his head and stuffed it into his coat pocket. Static cling caused the remaining strands of his salt-and-pepper hair to stand straight up, like soldiers saluting a superior officer. He then removed a handkerchief from his other coat pocket, honked twice into its folds, and sighed again. His nose was pink and his eyes were bloodshot and watery.

"Sounds like you've got one heck of a cold," Ben remarked sympathetically.

Their boss nodded and allowed Angela to take his briefcase so he could use both hands to sneeze into the handkerchief. "All made worse by lack of sleep," he grumbled and walked back to his office without saying another word.

The employees exchanged perplexed looks.

"Don't look at me! I stayed home to watch a Cary Grant marathon on AMC last night." Angela trotted behind her desk, sprayed a curtain of perfume into the air, pa.s.sed through the fragrance with her eyes closed, and clasped Mr. Farmer's briefcase against her bosom. "I'll take care of him. Emilio!" she shouted as their coworker sauntered through the door. "You're late! Y'all hustle off and get on with your work orders! We need some peace and quiet 'round here!"

As Angela sailed past, cloaked in a heavy layer of scent, the phone at her desk began to ring. She ignored the chimes and continued down the hall and into Mr. Farmer's office. When a second line began to ring, Emilio turned to Cooper and asked, "What gives?"

Cooper shrugged. "No clue. But I'm not sticking around or I might have to answer those." She gestured at the flashes of red lighting up on Angela's phone. Their consistent blinking conjured up images of irritated callers. When the third line lit up, all three employees sprinted to the locker room to change into their uniforms.

Quinton called Cooper's cell phone soon after she arrived at her second a.s.signment-a small advertising firm located in the Fan District. A girlish secretary led Cooper to the room where the copier was kept. She eased opened the door and flicked on the lights without actually looking inside.

"I apologize for the mess," she whispered as her smooth cheeks flushed red. "Um, I believe some of the executives were celebrating in here last night." She cleared her throat. "Mr. Bowman has this ... tradition. He likes to make Valentine's Day cards of his ..." She stopped and then began again. "Let's just say he's gained some weight since last Valentine's. You'll see what I mean when you get a load of the copier. Uh-oh! I've got to bring Mr. Bowman his cappuccino. Excuse me."

The sound of men's voices caused her to hustle off, patting her hair into place as she returned to her desk to greet her superiors and distribute the carton of Starbucks beverages she'd been busy labeling when Cooper appeared.

The room Cooper entered gave evidence that the evening's festivities had been quite raucous for the higher-ups at Bowman and Peters, Inc. Empty wine bottles were toppled across the surface of a polished conference table, a whiskey bottle was overturned in the sink, and the detritus of vegetable crudites and a fruit and cheese platter filled the room with the odor of rotting food. Kicking aside an empty cardboard bucket from KFC, Cooper noticed that a collection of stripped chicken bones were heaped in the exact center of the table. Balled-up napkins littered the floor and, to Cooper's horror, a pair of ladies panties dangled from the light fixture above the conference table.

The sudden vibrating of the cell phone in her back pocket was a welcome distraction from the sight of the ruined copier.

"Are you busy?" Quinton asked as Cooper approached the machine.

"That depends," she answered with a smile. "I'm responding to a repair call. But they should have called a garbage disposal service instead. This copier is toast. Not only did some drunken VIP break the gla.s.s by sitting on it, but it looks like he proceeded to give it a good beating with a seven iron." Retrieving the offending weapon from beneath the closest chair, she examined the scuffed metal surface and shook her head.

Quinton laughed. "Oh, man! That must have hurt! I've heard of people my size busting the copier gla.s.s, but I thought it was just an urban legend. An office myth."

"I'd take a photo and post it on YouTube, but that goes against Make It Work! ethics." Cooper leaned closer to the top of the copier. "Yuck. There's blood on a lot of these shards. I feel really sorry for the ER nurse who had to pick out the rest rest of the gla.s.s with her tweezers." of the gla.s.s with her tweezers."

"Or his his tweezers!" Quinton added with an amused snort. "I like the idea of some bulky guy named Angus or Hans pulling them out. Roughly." tweezers!" Quinton added with an amused snort. "I like the idea of some bulky guy named Angus or Hans pulling them out. Roughly."

"I doubt the patient felt a thing. You should see all the empty liquor bottles in this room." Cooper examined the copier's battered paper drawers. "Any luck following Miguel's paper trail?"

She could hear a rustling on the other end of the line. "Let me dig out my notes. Miguel had been using his current set of credit cards for less than a year. I can't find any financial records for this guy before that time. No bank accounts, tax refunds, nothing."

Cooper was confused. "But he had another job before this one and needed forms to get paid. Wouldn't he have had a W-2?"

Quinton was silent for a moment. "Not if he got paid under the table. What was the name of his former employer? I'll give them a call and pretend to be with the IRS. Perhaps I can discover his previous salary and position."

"Double A Auto. In Norfolk." Cooper kicked aside a shard of gla.s.s with her work boot. "Though the recommendation letter might be a fake, too. I doubt Miguel is his real name."

"It could be," Quinton countered. "The doc.u.ments aren't real, but he could still have had them made showing his own name. He didn't steal anyone else's ident.i.ty. I already checked that out."

Somehow, Cooper was pleased to learn that Miguel wasn't guilty of ident.i.ty theft, even though he'd clearly committed a minor crime by purchasing false doc.u.ments. "I wonder where you can buy a fake Social Security card?" she wondered aloud. "It must have been good enough to fool the human resources folks at Love Motors and the DMV as well."

Quinton took a sip from something and exhaled. "Can't help you with that one. I'm fresh out of underworld contacts."

Cooper picked up a sliver of gla.s.s and touched its jagged point. "But I I may have one," she mumbled and pictured Edward leading her into a shadowy alley. There, between a Dumpster and the rusted fire door of some vacant store, he'd slip a folded bill into the hand of a figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt in exchange for a whispered name. may have one," she mumbled and pictured Edward leading her into a shadowy alley. There, between a Dumpster and the rusted fire door of some vacant store, he'd slip a folded bill into the hand of a figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt in exchange for a whispered name.

Unintentionally, she gripped the piece of gla.s.s more firmly and the edge bit into her finger. The brief flash of pain jerked her back to reality. Cooper thanked Quinton, got off the phone and told the embarra.s.sed secretary that the damaged copier would have to be replaced. She then headed off for her next a.s.signment.

Cooper returned to the office shortly after noon bearing ham and cheese sandwiches on pumpernickel for herself and Angela. Ben and Emilio opted for Buffalo Wild Wings for lunch, but Angela refused to dine there on the grounds that she'd spend the rest of the day smelling like hot sauce.

As she approached the reception desk, Cooper was greeted by the sound of high-pitched barking, and she smiled as Angela's Yorkshire terrier slipped and skidded across the laminate floor in order to reach her.

"Why, Betty Boop! You look mighty sweet!" Cooper scratched the tiny dog behind the red-and-white polka-dot bow between her ears and admired the terrier's matching polka-dot sundress. "Angela, you and Betty are quite the pair of fashionistas. Did you spray her with your perfume?"

Angela swatted Cooper's arm with an unopened letter. "What kind of mama do you think I am? She's just come from the groomers." She scooped up her dog and planted a series of kisses on her small black nose. "I wanted to show Betty off to Mr. Farmer, but he hasn't come back from lunch yet."

A pout began to form on the secretary's mouth as she sat down across from Cooper in the break room.

"Is anything wrong?" Cooper asked as she handed Angela a sandwich and a bag of Rold Golds.

"Mr. Farmer's actin' real funny today. He said it was awful timin' to have a cold because he's gonna need every spare drop of energy to face his one o'clock appointment."

Cooper waved her pickle spear at the clock. "Who's he meeting?"

Angela frowned. "h.e.l.l if I I know! I'm just his office manager-the person who books each and every meetin' he's had in the past know! I'm just his office manager-the person who books each and every meetin' he's had in the past five five years. I don't know a single thing about this years. I don't know a single thing about this appointment, appointment, and do you know what? I'm not too happy about that!" Angela angrily bit a pretzel in half. and do you know what? I'm not too happy about that!" Angela angrily bit a pretzel in half.

Hoping to distract her friend, Cooper told her about her plans to invite Edward Crosby to join her for a night of club-hopping on Sat.u.r.day in hopes of discovering new information on Miguel.

"And Nathan doesn't mind?" Angela's pencil-drawn eyebrows shot up her forehead.

Cooper fiddled with her sandwich remains as her neck flushed.

"Oh, my word, you're not going to tell him!" Angela shouted and then leaned toward her friend. "Why, Cooper Lee, I do believe you have the hots for a drug dealer!"