Path of the Wicked

by Jennifer Stanley

  The friends exchanged dejected looks. Quinton polished off a second brownie and then began to pour coffee beans into an electric grinder. “I predict we’re going to need a caffeine boost to get our minds churning. Cover your ears, everyone.” He pressed on the plastic lid of the grinder and the noise of the beans being pulverized into grounds prevented further conversation.

  Cooper inhaled the pleasant, homey odor of the fresh coffee as Quinton shook the contents of the grinder into a paper filter. It was comforting to watch the big man move about his kitchen. His nimble fingers were both delicate and precise as he poured filtered water into what appeared to be an expensive and complicated coffee machine. Afterward, he laid out several stainless steel ramekins and carefully poured both white and raw brown sugar into two of the small bowls. The third contained several brands of sugar substitutes. Next, Quinton produced a pair of porcelain creamers and filled one with half-and-half and the other with low-fat milk.

  As the coffee percolated, all eyes remained fastened on Quinton as he set out diminutive silver spoons next to the ramekins and displayed porcelain cups and saucers in a neat rectangle to the right of the creamers. Steam erupted from the top of the coffee carafe and surrounded Quinton’s head in a halo of thin mist.

  “Quinton, I could watch you move around this kitchen all day,” Nathan commented. “And you’re just brewing coffee. I can’t fathom how magical it must be to watch you bake.”

  “Less quiet,” Quinton replied, his round face pink with pleasure over Nathan’s compliment. “I always bake to the strains of classical music. The big symphonies in particular. Dvorak’s New World is my favorite.”

  While the last hiccups emanated from the Cuisinart coffeemaker, Quinton retrieved a set of glass shakers from his cupboard. “I’ve got cinnamon, nutmeg, or dark chocolate curls should you like a little extra something in your coffee.”

  “Would you marry me?” Bryant asked and then offered to prepare a cup for Savannah. Once they were all armed with caffeine, Quinton led them into his living room where they exchanged details on the Door-2-Door volunteers. Nathan volunteered to act as secretary by inputting any relevant information into his laptop.

  An hour later, the coffee cups were drained, the brownies were gone, and Nathan had created a master list summarizing their findings.

  “I can hook this up to your printer and make copies for all of us,” Nathan suggested and, by the time Trish and Bryant had loaded Quinton’s dishwasher with the lunch items, Cooper held the summary in her hands. She read it over carefully.

  Warren— Courier for LabTech. Likes to go to garage sales on weekends. Bachelor. Lives with his grandma Helen on family farm in Louisa. She has Alzheimer’s. Warren volunteers at D2D Fridays and Saturdays. Has been there for over a year. Dresses in casual, inexpensive clothes, and is careful with his appearance. Drives a Toyota Corolla (not new, but very clean). A bit reserved but seems content. Good dancer.

  Erik— Retired principal. Divorcee in his early seventies. Attractive. Good sense of humor. Lives on pension. Seems determined not to move from current D2D route. Flirts with female volunteers and D2D staff. Freely admits to wanting a wife who will cook and clean. Loves to do lake fishing by himself and play Internet poker late at night. Drives an aged SUV rigged with fishing pole holders.

  Brenda— Works as a cashier at Kroger. Finds her job tiresome. Young son Darik is a bookworm. She really wants him to go to a private school outside the city as his district is full of young gangsters. She worries son is not getting the education he’ll need to get a college scholarship. She barely makes enough to feed and house them. Volunteers at D2D because she feels blessed and wants to pass that on by delivering food and friendship. When Brenda was out of earshot, Darik said that his daddy was shot in the chest and killed. Was likely a criminal. Brenda drives a rusty, dented Caddy.

  Madge— Sweet, rather fragile woman in her late sixties. Imagines herself in similar position to those D2D serves. Retired nurse. One daughter who lives in London as a stage actress—she is wild and has had issues with drug and alcohol abuse. Madge doesn’t think she can count on her to take care of her when she gets old. Seems a bit afraid of everything. Works at D2D because she and Penny go to same church and Penny convinced her to come. She’s glad that Penny asked her, as she doesn’t have much going on other than church functions. Misses excitement of hospital work. Drives a Saturn sedan.

  Penny— Works part-time selling ad space for mailbox coupons. Married an older man who died and has two sons, both of whom are well off. One is a dentist and the other a hematologist. Both live outside of D.C. and are very busy with their own families and work. She says she’s addicted to QVC and has gotten into hot water buying things from the show. Admits to getting lonely. She says D2D is a main part of her social life. She gets sick of the bossy ladies at her church. Too much like a high school clique, she says. Drives a station wagon.

  Campbell— D2D kitchen manager. Always has Mondays off. Rides his Harley Davidson to VA beach as much as he can. He’s got a serious crush on a female bartender there who has been rejecting his advances for over a year. He’s determined to win her heart by Christmas by “doing something big.” Wouldn’t say more. Loves his job. Is very close to his parents who live in Petersburg. Says the D2D clients are all like the grandparents he never knew.

  Leo— Forced to work at D2D as part of court sentence. Started in the middle of summer. Angry. Violent tattoos.

  Doesn’t have a car. Uses bus to get to D2D. Job? Hobbies? Family?

  Cooper jotted several notes on her sheet of paper as she read. She then reviewed the document one more time, doing her best to pretend that the names listed there belonged to strangers instead of the likable group of volunteers.

  “What are you circling?” Nathan asked her.

  “I think we should consider the possibility that the killer is motivated by money.” She held up her hand before anyone could protest. “I know that sounds strange in a way because the Door-2-Door victims were poor, but if these aren’t mercy killings, than what else could the killer’s motive be?” Cooper was clearly thinking out loud. “I’m circling any indications that the volunteers have money issues. Perhaps someone who’s desperate would hope that each client had something of value tucked away somewhere.”

  “Good thinkin’!” Jake nodded. “We can circle Erik right off. If he’s playin’ poker on the Internet, he could be deep in the hole. My brother got sucked into one of those cyber-money pits a few years ago. He’d come home from work, type in his credit card number, and boom!” He slammed his hand on the coffee table for emphasis. “Six months later my sister-in-law finds out that he’s taken a second mortgage on the house. Man, he slept on the couch for a long time after that!”

  “I bet.” Trish smirked. “I hate to be the one to point it out, but Brenda’s got motivation then, too. She wants her son to go to private school, and take it from me, tuition is very expensive. Why, if my business weren’t doing so well, my girls would be going to our local school for certain.” She shook off the objectionable idea of her progeny attending public school. “But there isn’t much a mother won’t do to ensure a good future for her child, and Brenda’s Kroger paycheck is not going to change Darik’s future. Selling pricey jewelry or gold coins to a pawnbroker could add up over time, assuming that’s what they’re doing.”

  “I hate to circle anyone on this list.” Quinton sighed despondently. “But Penny might be in debt due to her QVC sprees. Campbell may also be trying to accumulate a big pile of money to buy some . . .” He turned to Bryant. “What do teenagers call glitzy jewelry these days?”

  “Bling,” Bryant answered authoritatively. “He might plan to dazzle his girlfriend with some bling.”

  “And Madge could be trying to stockpile a nest egg for her old age,” Nathan added. “She seems fearful of being unable to care for herself and is truly terrified of the idea of a nursing home.”

  “Can’t say that I blame her,” Cooper murmured, grat
eful that Grammy was firmly established in the Lee house. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if Grammy should get sick. None of the Lees had medical training and could never afford to hire a full-time nurse. Even Ashley’s coffers might not be full enough to prevent Grammy from entering into some kind of assisted-living program. Feeling grim, Cooper returned her attention to their suspect list. “Warren may want extra money, too,” she said, her face flushing with guilt as she recalled how pleasant it had been to dance with him. “His grandma has Alzheimer’s and must need special care during the day. He’s at work, so someone must be looking after her.”

  “Everyone on this list needs money! We’re gettin’ real far real fast,” Jake muttered darkly.

  “Fighting the devil is never easy, my friend,” Savannah said softly. “And what’s especially difficult here is that no one appears to be spending any money. From what you’ve all told me, the volunteers wear inexpensive clothes, sport little or no jewelry, and drive fairly old cars. They take care of what they’ve got and try hard to make ends meet.” She rubbed her chin in thought. “Whoever is committing these crimes has a way to sell the stolen items and has been doing something that’s not obvious to an outsider with the cash.”

  “Like hiding it in the hen coop.” Cooper was reminded of where Grammy’s parents hid their money instead of entrusting it to the bank. Absently rubbing her right hand over the names on the list, she said, “I wonder if this person wants to acquire a certain amount or if they’re going to just keep going, even though the police are involved now.” She shook her head. There were no easy answers. No obvious clues. “I think we’re going to have to wait and see what drugs were in Mr. Crosby’s body. Then we can narrow down our suspect list to a person who has access to drugs and needs cash.”

  Nathan abruptly left his seat and strolled over to the window that overlooked a hill of patchy grass belonging to the cemetery. Shoving his hands deep into his pockets, he paced back and forth, his reflection in the large panel of glass flickering as his body passed through the curtain of sunlight.

  “It could take days for Mr. Crosby’s test results to come back and that’s if an autopsy’s even performed. I know Lali’s talked to the police about her fears that her clients are being sent to their graves earlier than scheduled, but we need to know what Mr. Crosby’s most valuable possession was. It would be the freshest clue.”

  “Well, there’s only one person who we could ask. Frank Crosby’s son.” Bryant grimaced. “And I can’t be seen hanging out with a guy in an orange jumpsuit. I’ve got a reputation to consider.”

  “Me, too!” Trish echoed, placing her hand over her heart as though the very idea of being seen with an inmate would instantaneously cause her business to go up in flames.

  Nathan turned from the window and looked intently at Cooper. “I’ll go see his son. My knees will knock the whole time, but I’ll do it.”

  Cooper felt a rush of tenderness sweep through her. She knew that Nathan was offering to visit Frank’s son because he wanted to solve the mystery of the older man’s death, but also because he knew how saddened Cooper was over the news that Mr. Crosby’s life had been stolen away by someone he trusted. “You won’t be alone,” she whispered to him as though they were the only two people in the room. “I’ll be with you.”

  Jake and Quinton also volunteered to be present, but Savannah suggested that too many people might cause the son to clam up.

  “We’ll focus our attention elsewhere,” she told the remaining group members. “Quinton, you see what you can find out about everyone’s financial situation. Perhaps you can call them under the guise of proposing investment strategies.”

  Quinton nodded his head in agreement. “Actually, I might be able to help them save more judiciously. Every penny counts and I’m sure very few of them have spoken to financial consultants about how to make the most of their money.” He held out his hands. “I just hope I don’t aid the murderer too much.”

  “You’ll just have to take a chance with your kindness,” Savannah replied. “Trish, you keep in contact with Lali. If she hears anything from the police, let us know.” Savannah fell silent, pulling the length of her long, black braid through her right hand over and over as she ruminated.

  “What about me?” Jake asked, looking hurt.

  “I need you with me,” Savannah answered and Jake immediately smiled at her in adoration. “You and I are going to pay a visit to Leo,” she continued firmly. “Since he didn’t come to our little party, we’re going to bring one to him.”

  Looking uncertain, Jake mumbled, “I’d better make sure I got plenty of metal pipes in the back of the Mr. Faucet van. You never know how these parties are gonna end.”

  The next day Cooper was struggling to replace the fuser assembly on a Canon copier so that it would no longer produce double images when her cell phone rang. Since her hands were dirty, she ignored the melodious burst of her phone’s Love Me Do ring. When it began to ring again, the Beatles crooning rather loudly in boisterous harmony, the manager of the clothing store swiveled around in her chair and frowned.

  “Can I get that for you?” she asked Cooper acerbically, tapping her pencil with impatience. “I’m trying to fill out my hours schedule and I just can’t do the math when I’m distracted.”

  “Sorry, ma’am.” Cooper hastily wiped her hands with a rag, grabbed her phone, and stepped out the back door, which was reserved for deliveries, smoke breaks, and banished service people, such as herself.

  Noting that both calls had come from Ashley, Cooper immediately grew annoyed. “Some of us have jobs to do!” she blurted out as her sister answered the phone.

  There was a moment of silence. “Coop. I need a favor.”

  Surprised by Ashley’s tone, which was uncommonly quiet and edging toward timidity, Cooper quickly agreed.

  “I’ve got an appointment with Dr. Easter this afternoon,” Ashley explained. “He’s the foremost infertility doctor in Richmond.”

  “I thought you decided to give yourself more time before seeing a specialist,” Cooper noted gently.

  Ashley sighed mournfully. “The time it takes most couples has come and gone. Something’s wrong, Cooper. I can feel it inside and I need to know what the problem is. I’m going to get one of those 3-D ultrasounds this afternoon and Lincoln won’t, well, he can’t . . .” She trailed off.

  “Of course I’ll come.”

  “You won’t even miss any work,” Ashley hurriedly explained. “I took the last appointment of the day so Lincoln wouldn’t have to cut his weekly staff meeting short, but now he says he’s got some Fall Madness Sale coming up and has to be there to fire up his salesmen.” She sniffed. “I can’t believe he thinks that talking one of his employees into wearing a werewolf suit for Halloween is more important than us having a baby. I need to see Dr. Easter, but I just couldn’t go alone, Coop. I’m . . . I’m scared.”

  Trying to suppress the anger she felt toward Lincoln for being so unsupportive of her sister, Cooper kicked at the concrete wall she was leaning against with the point of her black boot. “Don’t be. Everything’s going to be all right. I’ll even hold your hand if you want me to.”

  “Gross!” Ashley uttered a characteristically theatrical squeal. “I don’t want grease all over me!” She let loose a small giggle. “Besides, who knows what parts of me are going to be exposed. Your neck would be red as a fire truck!”

  The sisters laughed and said good-bye. Back inside, the manager’s scowl had deepened. “I’m ready to use my copier now,” she whined while straightening one of her five necklaces. “When will it be fixed?”

  “In just a few moments, ma’am,” Cooper replied politely through gritted teeth.

  “Like the few minutes it took you to talk on the phone,” the woman muttered nastily under her breath and then walked out of her office with her nose in the air. Cooper heard her bark a series of curt orders to the salesgirls on the floor who were already busy assisting customers, fold
ing sweaters, or steaming crinkled blouses.

  Retrieving a pair of pliers from her toolbox, Cooper said a quick prayer of gratitude for working at a job she loved. Her thoughts turned to Ashley, who wanted a career in motherhood so desperately. Resuming work on the fuser assembly, Cooper reflected that there were certain things people wanted so badly that they’d do anything to get them. For Ashley, it was a baby. For others, it was fame. The person preying on the Door-2-Door clients would cross any line in order to attain items possessing high retail value, which could either be sold for profit or hoarded as some kind of twisted secret collection.

  “Why are you doing this?” she whispered in quiet anger and then positioned the fuser assembly into the copier’s cavity and replaced the surrounding mechanisms. The copier emitted a rumbling hum as power was restored to its system and Cooper sat beside it for a moment, enjoying the small victory of bringing a machine back to life.

  She packed up her tools and forced herself to smile kindly as she asked the petulant manager to sign off on the work order. “If only humans were as easy to fix,” she murmured and headed off to her next assignment.

  11

  God sets the lonely in families,

  he leads forth the prisoners with singing;

  but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

  Psalm 68:6 (NIV)

  Seated in Dr. Easter’s office, Cooper did her best to feign interest in an old issue of American Baby magazine. However, it was impossible not to glance around the waiting room, for its occupants were far more captivating than an article on potty training.

  Cooper’s gaze traveled first to the woman seated one seat over who steadily rubbed her protruding belly in wide, concentric circles while humming to herself. She was a marked contrast to the slim, pale-faced woman who stood next to the aquarium, biting her nails in agitation and occasionally tapping on the glass so that the fish darted away, startled. Directly across from Cooper, a couple sat with their hands clasped and their heads bent toward one another. Their downcast eyes, tense whispers, and hunched shoulders made it clear that they were frightened, and Cooper hoped that the perinatal physician could ease their fear.