The Path of the Crooked (Hope Street Church Mysteries Book 1) (33 page)

Cooper replaced the back panel of the defunct machine, taking her time turning the screws. This was the only part of her job at Make It Work!, an office-machine sales and repair company operating out of Richmond, Virginia, that Cooper disliked. She hated telling nice people, like the kind and courteous secretary in the front office, that she’d been unable to fulfill their expectations and could not repair their machine.

Smoothing her uniform shirt, Cooper snapped her toolbox closed and stood. She patted the lid of the copier. “You’ve given them your best. Time for you to retire to the greener pastures of the recycling facility.”

At the front office, the secretary took one look at Cooper’s doleful expression and said, “Oh, dear. You don’t have good tidings for me, do you?”

“No, ma’am.”

The secretary paused for a moment, unable to keep herself from staring at Cooper’s unusual eyes. The left eye was blue, but such a pale shade of blue that it was almost colorless. The right eye, however, was startlingly green. It called to mind a meadow of sun-dappled spring grass.

“Oh, my.” The secretary shook her head slightly as the enormity of Cooper’s prognosis sank in. “Are you sure you can’t fix our copier? We really need to get a few more months out of that machine.”

“I couldn’t buy you two or three more minutes, let alone months. It has nothing left to give.”

The secretary nodded, unsurprised by the revelation. “I know you did your best. You always do and we appreciate the extra time you’ve taken keeping that ole dinosaur running.” She rose and, signing Cooper’s work order, walked her to the front door.

“It’s going to take more than a bake sale to raise funds for a new copier.” The secretary’s expression was bleak. “And with school starting in two weeks, I don’t know what we’re going to do.” She wrung her hands anxiously.

“The way I see it—you have two choices. You can soak a mess of cakes in a barrel of rum and hope that the folks who show up for the bake sale write checks with a whole lot of zeroes.” Cooper smiled wryly. “Or you could lease one of our machines until you raise the money for a new one.”

The secretary brightened. “A lease?” She paused to consider the idea. “I’m fond of the rum cake plan, too, but a lease just might get us through the crisis. Thank you, Ms. Lee. You’re an angel! Please call me with the rates as soon as you’re able. We need a copier in here as of yesterday.” Then her face grew solemn and she lowered her voice. “And you’ll take away the old one for us?”

Cooper nodded, promised to phone later with leasing options, and hopped into a black van with the Make It Work! logo splashed across both sides in bright red lettering. As she drove back to the office, she remembered that the new employee Mr. Farmer hired to handle the document-shredding side of the business would be starting work today.

Over the summer, Mr. Farmer had filled the need by recruiting the son of his widowed next-door neighbor, but the young man was returning to college, so Cooper’s boss had placed an ad in the
Richmond Times-Dispatch
for a full-time employee. Before anyone had the chance to apply for the position, he’d ended up hiring a cousin who’d recently relocated from New Jersey. No one had met the mysterious new addition to their team, and all three of Mr. Farmer’s staff members were curious to discover what kind of person would be donning a new Make It Work! uniform.

“Thank goodness he didn’t hire some pageant princess,” Angela said, giggling as she told Cooper about meeting the new employee while Cooper was at the elementary school.

Angela, the office manager at Make It Work!, wore a tight pencil skirt, a low-cut blouse, and an armload of vintage bangles. As Cooper admired Angela’s platinum-blonde bob, held firmly in place by a wide pink headband and half a can of Aqua Net, she noticed the presence of a beauty mark on Angela’s cheek that had never been there before.

“I don’t think pageant princesses are interested in a career in document shredding,” Cooper said. Tapping her own cheek with her index finger, she said, “You’re really channeling Marilyn Monroe today, aren’t you?”

Angela batted her false eyelashes as she examined her reflection in a compact that was never far from reach. “I want to see if Mr. Farmer notices.” She leaned over her desk and whispered, “And if
he
doesn’t, then I sure hope that
gorgeous
creature gettin’ dressed in one of our uniform shirts does.” Her eyes gleamed.

“So tell me about the new guy.” Cooper leaned comfortably against Angela’s desk. “I can see you’re fit to burst over him.”

Angela placed her hands over her ample bosom. “Lord, I don’t know what I did to deserve such tasty eye candy! This boy is a stud cocktail made up of one part soap opera star, one part professional baseball player, and three parts Chippendale dancer.” She frowned. “He’s a bit too young for me, unfortunately. You know you’re old when you wish you were forty again, but I can still
look!”
She wiggled her pencil-drawn eyebrows. “And if he asked me to dinner, I wouldn’t be in any hurry to say no.”

At that moment, Mr. Farmer stepped out of his office at the end of the hall. The owner/manager of Make It Work! was a short, stocky, balding man resembling the actor Danny DeVito. A quiet, reserved individual, he was a fair and honest employer. Angela had been flirting with him for years, and though he occasionally displayed a hint of fondness for her in return, he’d never asked her out on an official date.

“Good morning, Cooper.” Mr. Farmer straightened his tie, which was embroidered with cobalt computer monitors on a field of yellow. “Our new employee is in the locker room. His name is Emilio Calabria and word has it that he is an exemplary salesman. He’s sure to increase our burgeoning secure document-destruction division. Ben will be showing him the ropes over the next few days.” Mr. Farmer smiled shyly at Angela. “Let’s all go out of our way to make him feel at home.”

“Oh, I’ll make him feel
real
welcome, sir.” Angela saluted their boss, her cherry-red nails brushing her powdered forehead.

“Ah, yes . . .” Mr. Farmer shifted on his feet, looking slightly daunted by Angela’s enthusiasm. Hearing footsteps approaching from down the hall, he turned and held out his hand. “And here he is now. Emilio, you’ve met the rest of our small staff except for Cooper Lee. Cooper, this is Emilio, the man who’ll soon be shredding paper all over town.”

The first thought that ran through Cooper’s mind was that Angela’s assessment of their new coworker was completely accurate. Emilio wasn’t tall, but his lean and muscular build gave him the appearance of height. His shiny waves of black hair framed his olive skin and alluring dark brown eyes. When he smiled at Cooper, flashing a row of square white teeth, she decided that his was a face meant for television and movie screens or the pages of
GQ.
His hands were wide and strong, and as he crushed Cooper’s in a steely grip, his smile grew even brighter.

“Lady, you’ve got some
awesome
eyes!” He stared at Cooper and continued to pump her hand. “Man, they are wicked cool. They remind me of that cute blonde actress—the one in the
Superman
remake.”

“Kate Bosworth?” Angela guessed.

Emilio released Cooper’s hand and pointed at Angela. “Smart and classy.” He turned to Mr. Farmer. “I can see who runs
this
show.”

“And
I
can see why you’re such a good salesman. You’re just as smooth as a stick of room-temperature butter.” Angela batted her false eyelashes. “I’d never have taken you for kin of Mr. Farmer’s. Just how are you related again?”

“Emilio’s my aunt’s boy,” Mr. Farmer said, clearly displeased that he was being completely overshadowed by his cousin. “My own folks died when I was in my early twenties. All I’ve got left is my big sister and Aunt Mildred.”

“And me!” Emilio clapped his employer on the back with enough enthusiasm to jostle a few teeth loose. “You’re not going to be sorry about bringing me aboard, boss. I’m going to work my ass off and bring in so many new clients that you won’t know where to spend all your money!”

“I could think of several ways to spend it,” Angela murmured coquettishly.

Emilio beamed at Mr. Farmer and then slung his arm around Cooper’s shoulders. In a conspiratorial fashion, he whispered, “This man hired me when I was down on my luck. Is he awesome or what?”

“Best boss I’ve ever had,” Cooper replied, inhaling Emilio’s powerful cologne.

She extricated herself from her hunky coworker’s semi-embrace and feigned the need to grab a tissue from Angela’s desk. As Cooper reached for the floral box, she noticed the secretary gazing at Emilio with adoration. Mr. Farmer also seemed to have taken note of Angela’s dreamy expression, for he hurriedly took Emilio by the elbow and offered to accompany him to the garage.

“Ben’s waiting in the garage,” he said, gently propelling Emilio forward.

“Catch you beautiful ladies later!” Emilio shouted in his thick Jersey accent and strutted off.

Angela watched the men walk away. “Ain’t he somethin’?” She fanned herself with a brochure from an ink cartridge and toner company.

Cooper shrugged. “Yeah, he’s something, all right.” She shouldered the woven straw bag she’d recently purchased from Target and told Angela she’d be back in an hour.

“You meetin’ that nice boy from your Bible study for a steamy lunch date?” Angela puckered her lips.

Cooper’s neck grew pink. She covered the telltale flesh with both hands and shook her head. “No, Nathan’s been really busy lately. And like I told you last week, I’m not sure if we’re dating. We’ve only been out a few times.”

Angela waved her off. “You’ve kissed, honey. On the lips. More than once. So if that ain’t datin’, then you’re the friendliest friends I’ve ever heard of!” She pulled a lipstick from her desk drawer and held it up to Cooper. “Want to borrow my Vixen Red? Tempt that sweet boy of yours into bein’ a bit naughty after work?”

Pretending not to have heard Angela, Cooper waved and headed for the exit.

• • •

Cooper ordered a Happy Meal from McDonald’s and took hungry bites of her cheeseburger with extra pickles with one hand while negotiating the traffic around Short Pump Town Center with the other. The mall was unexpectedly busy for a weekday, but then Cooper realized that the mothers disembarking from their SUVs and plush minivans were probably shopping for back-to-school supplies. As she pulled her red pickup truck into a parking space, Cooper watched a pretty woman of about the same age press a button on her car key, causing both of her minivan’s rear doors to slide open. Her two young children hopped inside, relieved to be out of the scorching August sun. Each child held on to a balloon from the shoe store, and as the mother lifted her daughter into her booster seat and carefully tied her purple balloon to the armrest, the little girl threw her arms around her mother’s neck and covered her face with tender kisses. The mother laughed and kissed her daughter back on the bridge of her small nose. Witnessing this sweet exchange, Cooper felt a twinge of sadness.

“That’s what I want,” she whispered into the quiet of her truck cab. “I want to love someone like that. I want to be loved like that.” Surprised and irritated to find herself fighting back tears, she stuffed the last of the French fries into her mouth, grabbed her Coke from the cup holder, and marched into the mall.

Almost furtively, she pulled open the heavy door to the nail salon next to Macy’s and, after being greeted by the receptionist, mumbled, “I’m here to see Minnie.”

The Vietnamese woman behind the reception desk smiled as Cooper retrieved a pair of flip-flops from her handbag. “You’re a regular customer now.” She then led Cooper toward the back of the salon. “Pick your color,” the woman directed.

Cooper selected a conservative mauve polish and then settled into her chair. She pressed the red button on the attached remote in order to start up the chair massage and gazed at the other women in the salon. Only months ago, Cooper would have laughed if someone had told her that she’d gladly part with some of her hard-earned money in exchange for a beauty treatment for her feet. However, once initiated into the world of pedicures, she soon became a bit of a junkie. She now had a pedicure twice a month and had purchased several pairs of sandals to show off her neatly polished toes. One of the first things she did after work was to kick off her heavy boots and slide her colorful toes into cute summery footwear.

“Hello, Miss Cooper,” a petite young Vietnamese girl greeted her and then turned on the water in the pedicure tub. She shook a jar of green granules into the water and then accepted the bottle of nail polish Cooper handed her. “Your sister coming, too?” she asked.

Cooper nodded and then glanced in the direction of the front door. “Here she is now.”

Ashley Lee Love strode into the salon like a supermodel flaunting her stuff on the catwalk. She wore pink capri pants stitched with navy blue whales, a wide leather belt that accentuated her narrow waist, and a gauzy white blouse. Her accessories included three strands of pearls, matching pearl earrings, a glimmering diamond tennis bracelet, and a Versace hobo purse that looked like it contained a bowling ball.

Flipping a shimmering lock of golden blonde hair over her tanned shoulder, Ashley inspected the array of available nail polish colors and then held up two bottles of identical looking pinks.

“Italian Love Affair or Argenteeny Pinkini?” she called across the salon to Cooper.

For some reason, the first name made Cooper think of Emilio. “The second one,” she said.

Ashley handed the bottle to her nail technician and then slipped off a pair of elegant sandals with a wedge heel. Sliding gracefully into the pedicure chair, she opened her purse, pulled out one of several magazines rolled up inside, and showed it to her sister.

Cooper stared at the beautiful little girl gracing the cover of
Parents
magazine. She was blonde, freckled, and had the deepest dimples that Cooper had ever seen. “Cute kid,” she said and then looked at Ashley’s expectant face. “Why are you showing me that?”