The Way of the Guilty

by Jennifer Stanley

  “Are they talking about us or themselves?” Nathan whispered as they closed the back door behind them and trotted up the short flight of stairs to the apartment.

  Cooper unlocked her door. “They’ve always been like that. I was embarrassed by their little displays of affection when I was growing up, but now I realize how lucky I was to have such openly loving parents. In these days of so many divorces, it’s nice to know that it really is possible to live happily ever after.” Moses and Miriam rushed the door, nearly tripping both Cooper and Nathan as they mewled for attention and dinner, winding around both pairs of human feet. Cooper obliged the kittens immediately by popping open a can of cat food.

  “Let me get supper started before we deal with that.” She pointed at the box under her kitchen table and then removed her coat. “I want to be able to concentrate on the contents without my stomach rumbling.”

  “Why is it under there?” Nathan asked. “Were you worried someone might try to steal it?”

  Cooper laughed. “No! I couldn’t stop thinking about what might be inside last night and I figured ‘out of sight, out of mind.’ Now I know exactly how Pandora felt.”

  “I bet.” Nathan looked as though he’d like to tear the box apart immediately. His eyes were studying it intently and his hands were already reaching for it. Fortunately, Miriam saw him squatting on the floor and interpreted his posture as an invitation to play. She launched herself at his feet, toying with his shoelaces. Moses gulped down the last bite of cat food and then leaped over his sister in order to scale up Nathan’s chest.

  “Ow!” Nathan chuckled and gently removed Moses’s claws from his shirt. “You wanna play rough, huh?” He turned the kittens over and, snatching his scarf from where he’d draped it over one of the chairs, began to dangle it above their eager paws.

  Cooper switched on her CD player and hummed along to the songs of Abbey Road as she packed meatballs and set them on a lined cookie sheet. Once the meatballs were in the oven, she put water on the stove to boil and began to slice the loaf of Italian bread she’d picked up on the way home. Soon, the tiny kitchen was redolent with the same warmth and comforting smells as Maggie’s. Cooper placed her hands flat on the countertop and spent a moment simply enjoying a moment of absolute contentment.

  However, both she and Nathan rushed through the tasty meal, eating quickly and talking in spurts. Cooper drank her red wine too fast and felt rather light-headed by the time she’d finished her bowl of linguine.

  “So much for a nice, relaxing supper,” she commented sarcastically.

  Nathan grinned. “Yeah, right! I’m sorry, Coop, but that box is an elephant in the room.”

  “Let’s just dump our plates in the sink and open the thing already.”

  Nathan leapt up and removed her bowl before she had the chance to move. “I love the Woman of Action side of you. I’ll clear this table like Flash Gordon. You get the box and a pair of scissors.”

  A few minutes later, the open blade of Cooper’s kitchen shears hovered over the taped box flaps. Her hand was trembling with excitement and no small measure of trepidation. Nathan moved closer to her. The feel of his warm breath on the back of her neck was a momentary distraction and she almost pivoted so that her lips could find his. Instead, she lowered the scissors point and severed the clear packing tape with a swift, definitive sweep of her arm.

  Nathan peeled back the flaps and Cooper reached inside. She freed a file folder containing a few sheaves of oddly shaped, rectangular papers. The folder was labeled Special Titles followed by a small mark.

  If Cooper had expected to discover a pile of emails from Ivan to Hector containing precise instructions on how to forge documents or conduct illegal drug transactions, she was sorely disappointed. Flipping through the seemingly harmless Department of Motor Vehicle documents, she handed the top four vehicle titles to Nathan.

  “What am I not seeing here?” she demanded crossly. “Where’s the incriminating video tape? The photographs? Letters? Anything but these car titles!”

  “I’m sure if we examine them carefully something will become clear.” Nathan slid into a chair without looking up from the piece of paper in his hand.

  Cooper grabbed Maggie’s Key lime cookies from the counter, placed them on a napkin in the center of the table, and began to pore over the first title on her pile. Absently, she reached for a cookie. She bit into the crisp buttery crust covered in powdered sugar and sighed as a burst of soft, sweet lime and smooth white chocolate chips coated her tongue.

  “These cars were purchased from Love Motors. Nothing interesting about that.” She rifled through the more than half-dozen titles in the folder and then fell silent, trying to think things through. She stuck her hand out toward the cookie plate and her fingers brushed Nathan’s. Looking up, the couple smiled at one another and then resumed their scrutiny of the various titles.

  “The cars are all General Motors make, but they’re different brands,” Nathan stated. “I’ve got a Cadillac, a Suburban, a Saab sedan, and a Pontiac G8 here.”

  Cooper read off the cars listed on her titles. “My pile has a Hummer, a Corvette, a Dodge Ram, a Buick, a GMC SUV, and a Cadillac.” She took a sip of wine and grimaced. Red wine and lime cookies were not a good mix. “These are not inexpensive cars. I wonder if that’s relevant. Two of them have liens but the others were bought outright.” She whistled, trying to imagine what it would be like to have enough money in the bank to be able to drive a forty thousand-dollar car off the lot free and clear.

  The recorded odometer readings indicated that the vehicles were new when purchased and, after comparing notes, Nathan and Cooper determined that they’d all been bought over the previous three months.

  “Why did Maria keep these?” Cooper was exasperated. “If there’s a secret here, it’s not obvious to me unless the titles are fakes.”

  Nathan rubbed his dimpled chin in thought. “Do you have your truck title around? We could compare them.”

  Cooper brightened. “I do! It’s in a fireproof lockbox in my closet.” She raced into her bedroom, retrieved the lockbox, and popped it open. Tossing aside her birth certificate, a stock certificate she’d received as a gift for her eighteenth birthday, a charm bracelet she’d worn as a girl, and her high school diploma, she came across the title.

  “Ha!” She grabbed the paper and returned to the kitchen. Nathan slid his chair next to hers and the twosome huddled over the pair of Commonwealth of Virginia titles. Three sides of each title had a gray-blue border with an elaborate design that reminded Cooper of lace and had been printed on paper covered by the words “VEHICLE RECORD” in shades of blue and beige. Cooper held the titles up to the light, revealing matching watermarks of the State Seal. The light also illuminated only the blue letters and some nearly invisible barcodes. Returning the titles to the table, Cooper and Nathan matched up the information listed on each title line-by-line.

  “Maria’s looks legit to me,” Cooper murmured, pushing the papers away in frustration. “How can a bunch of car titles help the police close two unsolved murder cases? Unless the people who bought these cars are criminals, the cops will laugh in my face if I bring them this file.” She recalled McNamara’s last warning. “Actually, they won’t laugh. I could end up in a heap of trouble.” She shook her head. “I can’t call them until I have solid proof.”

  “Wish we had a friend at the DMV,” Nathan said with a sigh. “They’d know if the titles were doctored.”

  Cooper scrunched up her mouth and tried to imagine strutting into the DMV and asking a supervisor to examine Maria’s titles. They’d probably think she was a nutcase. Suddenly, an idea sprang into her head. She jumped up and squeezed Nathan’s shoulder.

  “I may not have friends in the DMV, but I did make a new friend shortly before Miguel was killed.” She kissed Nathan on the cheek and then began to dig through the hamper she used as a recycling bin. Flipping through last Saturday’s paper, which was stained by droplets of Dr Pepper and Whiskas
Ocean Whitefish, Cooper found what she was searching for.

  “Ever been to an auto auction before?” she asked her confused boyfriend. As he shook his head no, she placed the paper in front of him and pointed at the advertisement for River City Auto Auction. “Well, I’m going to one this weekend. Take note of this face.” She tapped on the photo of a middle-aged woman smiling proudly as she gestured at a row of cars. Several grinning men flanked her, but the sheer happiness of the woman’s expression drew the eye right to her face.

  “Felicia Hawkins.” Cooper spoke to the black and white image of the former secretary as she rubbed her butterfly pin, her fingers tracing the delicate silver filigree on its wings. “You might just be the answer to our prayers.”

  17

  “A false witness will not go unpunished,

  and he who pours out lies will perish.”

  Proverbs 19:9 (NIV)

  Nathan couldn’t join Cooper at the River City Auto Auction Saturday morning as he’d promised to spend the better part of the day doing odd jobs for his younger sister. After that, Quinton, Gloria, Nathan, and Jake planned to install the new computers at the End East elementary school and assist the school librarian in replacing the covers or fixing the loose bindings of damaged books. Nathan was excited to see the elderly woman’s face when Quinton presented her with a check for new books. The three thousand dollars Cooper and Edward had won at the pool tournament had grown into nearly six thousand dollars once the congregation at Hope Street had added their donations for the school’s benefit. Now, the students would receive healthy snacks each day, but also a fresh supply of books and computer programs. Things were looking up for the East End school.

  So while her friends were busy performing good deeds, Cooper spent an hour driving to the complex where the auto auction was being held. Assuming she’d be spending a good portion of time outdoors, Cooper bundled up in her warmest parka, as well as her fleece turquoise hat and scarf. She consulted her map and followed the directions she’d found on River City Auto Auction’s website. Luckily, all she had to do was head toward Richmond International Airport and make a few turns once past the airport’s entrance.

  River City Auto Auction was located in a building that once served as an airplane hangar. The metal structure was surrounded by a parking lot the size of a football field. Dozens of red and white arrows indicated customer parking while another specified an area reserved for River City employees and the disabled.

  The website had stipulated that the auction started promptly at ten o’clock, but buyers could preview the cars Friday evening and Saturday morning before the sale began. A complete list of cars to be sold in that Saturday’s auction was also available online and Cooper had enjoyed reviewing the photographs and histories of several classic cars.

  “Don’t get nervous,” she assured her beloved red pickup truck as she parked. “I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

  Outside the spacious building, hundreds of people were walking on either side of a line of forward-facing cars. As Cooper moved closer, a man wearing a red jacket hopped into a Toyota Camry located just outside the building’s garage. He started up the engine, drove it inside, and then slid into the driver’s seat of the next car in line—a purple PT Cruiser.

  Clusters of men stood around chatting and gesturing at cars. Some were reviewing their printouts containing the vehicle history while others were preoccupied making notations, peering under hoods, inspecting paint jobs, and crawling inside to sit behind the wheel. Cooper couldn’t recall a time when she had seen so many men looking downright jubilant. With the roar of engines, the scent of gasoline and motor oil in the air, and a row of cars and trucks stretching for as far as the eye could see, the males and a scattering of females were in their element.

  “You need help, young lady?” an older man wearing a red River City Auto Auction jacket inquired pleasantly.

  “I’m looking for Felicia Hawkins,” Cooper answered.

  The man appeared quizzical, but then he smiled. “We call her Fizzy! She’s just as bubbly as a soda pop. I forget right often that her mama christened her somethin’ else.” He gestured at the long counter visible through the open garage door. “She’s back there, helpin’ the buyers collect their tags and such. She’s made us so organized we can sell twice as many cars per sale as we used to.”

  Cooper was surprised to hear that the sour woman she’d met back in January had changed so much that she was now referred to as “Fizzy” because of her perky personality. Still, it was wonderful to realize that unhappy people were capable of change if given the opportunity to do so.

  “Thank you,” Cooper told the helpful gentleman, and he nodded and turned away to show a man in his early twenties the fancy chrome rims on an Escalade.

  Felicia was in the middle of a conversation with a customer wearing a bright yellow sticker on his coat. The number fifty-seven was neatly printed on the sticker and Cooper inferred that it was his bidder number. A glance around the room confirmed this theory.

  “If you need to register, you’re at the wrong counter,” a middle-aged man kindly offered. “You look like you’d be a great match for the five-series up next.” He pointed at the silver BMW sedan in front of them. “But you’d better hurry! Merv sells a car about every sixty seconds.”

  “Wow.” Cooper was impressed. She listened, fascinated, as the auctioneer called out prices in increments of five hundred dollars and then one hundred as the bidding slowed. Men waved hands, baseball hats, coffee cups, and newspapers to indicate their bid and several teenage boys shouted as they kept track of the bids. Suddenly, Merv banged his gavel and the Jeep Liberty was driven out through the garage door on the opposite end of the building.

  As Merv reviewed the assets of the silver BMW, Cooper felt a hand on her shoulder. She swung around, expecting to see Felicia standing before her, but her expectant smile fell upon Edward Crosby.

  “Hello,” she said, feeling suddenly shy in his presence.

  He dipped his head to acknowledge the greeting, but did not return her smile. “You turn up in some oddball places. Are you buying or selling?”

  Cooper put a hand over her heart. “I could never part with my truck. Actually, I’m here to see that woman behind the counter.” She jerked her thumb at Felicia. “What about you? Is your taxi cab service expanding?”

  “Don’t I wish,” he growled. “Nah. I’m selling the bike. The cold weather’s put a serious crimp in cab fares and we’re not making as many deliveries at the furniture store, either. Less tips all around.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I was freezing my tail off on that crotch rocket, anyway.”

  “I’m sorry.” Cooper couldn’t help but remember how it felt to speed down the dark roads on the red-and-chrome Indian Chief with her arms wrapped around Edward as the wind whipped the ends of her hair and her blood surged through her body. She’d always felt so alive when Edward was near. It was as if his very presence heightened her senses.

  A tinge of pink crept up her neck and she looked away from Edward’s piercing gray eyes and tried to focus on the car being sold.

  “Are you friends with that woman?” Edward asked. “She go to your church or something?”

  “No.” Cooper quickly explained how she’d met Felicia during a service call and hadn’t thought of her again until she’d come across the former administrative assistant’s photograph in the newspaper. “I didn’t even call her first, but I just need to find out from her if the car titles I’ve got with me are genuine.”

  “Yeah?” Edward’s tone bordered on disinterest. “Where’d you get them?”

  “From a woman who worked as the title clerk at Love Motors. She kept them hidden at her house for some reason and I’m trying to figure out why.”

  Edward was just about to speak when Cooper felt someone touch her on the elbow. It was Felicia.

  “I’ve been meaning to call you!” she exclaimed after giving Cooper a brief hug. “I owe you a belated thanks. If you hadn’t dr
agged me out to dinner that night, I’d never have had the courage to change careers.” She smiled as she gazed around the facility. “I love my job now! It’s exactly what I’ve always wanted to do. I come to work every day with a goofy smile on my face and I don’t have to kowtow to another CEO for the rest of my life.”

  Cooper turned to Edward in order to introduce him to Felicia, but he’d melted into the crowd of men.

  “Are you car shopping?” Felicia asked.

  “Actually, I came to see you. I need a favor.”

  Felicia seemed delighted to have the opportunity to help. “Come on back to my office. One of the girls can take over for me.”

  Cooper followed Felicia down a hallway and into the third office on the right. It was a small room, with only enough space for a desk, a file cabinet, a small bookcase, and a pair of red leather chairs for visitors.

  “Should I call you Fizzy now?” Cooper indicated the business card holder on the desktop.

  Felicia laughed. “It certainly sounds less stuffy. I feel like a Fizzy now, too. But enough about me, what can I do for you?”

  Removing Maria’s file folder from her canvas tote bag, Cooper passed it to Felicia. I can’t think of her as Fizzy just yet, Cooper thought. Aloud, she said, “This might seem like a strange question, but could these titles be forgeries?”

  If Felicia was surprised by the question, she didn’t let it show. She picked up one title after another, touching the paper, examining the blue, lacelike border, and holding each document up to the light in order to observe the watermark. “They look legit to me. Trust me, these are very difficult to forge.”

  Cooper sighed. “Look, I can’t tell you why I’ve got these titles, but they may be the key to solving a serious crime. Is there anything about them that strikes you as unusual?”

  As Felicia focused on the titles, Cooper cast her eyes around the tidy office. Felicia’s shelves were filled with books and manuals on auto parts, appraisal and value guides, and back issues of Car and Driver and Road and Track. A calendar of classic cars was pinned to the bulletin board above her computer and a row of framed letters from grateful customers covered the wall behind the desk. It seemed as though Felicia had quickly made a home at River City Auto Auction. Cooper smiled. She was pleased that the risk the older woman had taken by changing careers had paid off so well. In fact, she looked and acted ten years younger than when they’d met at the Bank of Richmond offices.