by Ellery Adams
“Is that what they were fighting about today?” Christine asked innocently. “I didn’t realize.”
“Oh, sure, it’s one of their go-to arguments,” Mandy continued. “When there’s nothing else to fight about, they fight about something printer-related.” She turned her attention to Cooper, brows raised suspiciously. “Are you finished, then? Should you be going?”
Before Cooper could respond, Christine answered. “She’s going to give both machines a once-over to make sure nothing else is wrong.”
Mandy looked Cooper over head to toe, as if evaluating her. Cooper steeled herself, expecting some kind of recognition. But it didn’t come.
Finally, Mandy nodded approvingly. “Good. Maybe she can get the color printer to stop streaking.” Cooper opened her tool kit and went to work as Mandy continued. “As I was saying, the printer thing is just one in their long list of arguments. They rotate through them, I think. You’d think they’d fight less, now that he’s moved out, but I think they might actually be fighting more.”
“I forgot he moved out,” Christine said.
“Sure. A couple weeks ago. They still carpool to keep up appearances, but we all know they’re on the rocks. I swear, sometimes I wonder if they talk before work to coordinate which fight they’ll have today! Don’t you think they fight an awful lot?”
Reluctantly, Christine nodded. “Surely there’s some reason for it, though. People don’t generally fight for no good reason.”
“There’s a good reason, all right.” She glanced over at the couple in question and then turned back to Christine. “Dave never really got past his . . . suspicions.”
Very slowly, Cooper removed the panel from the color printer and set her screwdriver on the floor, careful to make no noise or sudden movement that might distract Mandy from her story. Mandy did seem to be a great source of information. Whether or not that information was reliable was another question.
“What suspicion?” Christine asked.
“You really don’t know?” Mandy looked completely shocked. “Dave accused Nala of cheating on him.”
“What?”
“With Sinclair!”
“No!”
“Yes!” Mandy’s eyes gleamed as she relished the gossip. “It started a few months ago, right before you came to work here. Nala and Sinclair spent some time together—just friendly, so they said. I was never sure what I thought about it, but Dave certainly was. Apparently he caught them on the couch at Sinclair’s place.”
Christine swallowed hard, visibly uncomfortable with the conversation. Still, she pressed on, for the greater good. “On the couch? Doing what?”
“Nala claimed that they were sharing a drink. Sinclair agreed. He told Dave that Nala just needed someone to talk to. He said he had no interest in Nala beyond helping her and Dave fix their marriage. It was already going down the toilet by then.”
“How did Dave take it?”
“He laid Sinclair out. Punched him right in the face and knocked him out cold. Kenneth wanted to call the cops, but Sinclair wouldn’t hear of it. Said it showed that Dave at least cared enough about his wife to be jealous, and that was a good sign.”
“Wow . . .” Christine shook her head. “I can’t imagine. I don’t think I’d have handled it as well as Sinclair did.”
“Well, he’s about the only one who handled it well. Dave never let it go, and Nala won’t let him forget about how gracious Sinclair was. You know, I went out to the parking lot to find them in a yelling match over a scratch on the rear bumper of Dave’s car. You couldn’t even see it. But you should have heard the venom in his voice. Anyway, I bet Kenneth wishes now that he’d called the cops on Dave when he had the chance. Scumbag. Maybe things would’ve turned out differently . . . you know . . . with Sinclair.”
Cooper had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting. Mandy had some nerve, reveling in gossip while disparaging someone else’s character. More than that, though, Cooper wanted to shout that this wasn’t harmless gossip. This was serious. This was someone’s life and marriage. She glanced over at Jake. His face was like stone, his expression completely unreadable.
In that moment, with the gravity of a failing marriage before her eyes, Cooper couldn’t help but think of her future with Nathan. He’d never raised his voice to her. She couldn’t even imagine him yelling at her. How could two people treat each other that way? Even enemies had to take a day off once in a while. How could a husband and wife be so mean to each other? As Cooper thought more about it, she realized she didn’t know any couples who acted like Dave and Nala did. Her parents didn’t always agree, but they never yelled—not at her or each other. The same went for Ashley and Lincoln. Grammy shouted at the television regularly, but she didn’t raise her voice to real people.
Mandy continued talking, drawing Cooper from her thoughts.
“I don’t really blame Dave for his suspicions,” Mandy said. “I guess Sinclair used to have quite a reputation with the ladies, if you know what I mean. Kenneth mentioned it on more than one occasion. Apparently, they were sometimes interested in the same ladies, and Sinclair had a knack for getting what he wanted.”
“Did Kenneth know Sinclair that long?” Christine asked. “I didn’t realize.”
“They’ve been joined at the hip since college. Sinclair led. Kenneth followed like a little puppy. That’s probably why the ladies preferred Sinclair. Women like a man who knows how to be outgoing, don’t you think?”
Again, Cooper had to bite her tongue. She wanted to tell Christine not to answer. Mandy was looking for personal information—a personal opinion—and no good could possibly come of sharing anything personal with someone like Mandy.
But before Cooper could find a way to distract her, Christine answered, “I don’t know. I can see how someone might go for Kenneth.”
A sly little grin appeared on Mandy’s face. “Really? You do, do you? So Kenneth’s your type.”
Christine’s cheeks burned. “That’s not what I said, Mandy, and it’s not what I meant.”
Mandy studied her for a moment, and then, as if nothing had been said, went on. “Anyway, I think the whole situation was wearing on Sinclair. The shouting. The fighting. The accusations. Can you imagine?”
This time, Christine said nothing.
“One day I found Sinclair in his office, just sitting there with his head in his hands. He was so fed up! He said, ‘I can’t take this. It can’t be happening.’ A little dramatic, I think, but we’re all a little tired of it, I’d say.” Mandy looked down at Cooper. “Good luck with the streaking situation.” She paused, her gaze boring into Cooper. “Have we met?”
Cooper shrugged, trying to hide her panic. Maybe Christine had underestimated Mandy. “I have one of those faces,” Cooper said, facing the color printer.
“No, you don’t. You have a unique face, and I recognize it. I’m sure I do. Your eyes . . . I know I’ve seen your eyes before.”
Cooper shrugged again, hoping a lackadaisical attitude would throw Mandy off the scent. If Christine was right, then any hint of an interesting story would stoke Mandy’s curiosity. And if anyone realized why Cooper was here, they wouldn’t act naturally. “Hockey accident,” Cooper said, gesturing to her emerald green eye. “Ocular transplant. The blue one’s original. I probably fixed the machines here before, or I fixed the machines at some other office where you were. Make It Work! caters to many different businesses in the Richmond area, and we offer a variety of services, including—”
“Never mind,” Mandy said, interrupting her spiel. “I have work to do.”
As Mandy left, Cooper smiled to herself. She had a feeling that would work. When she looked over at Jake, she saw a little smile on his face as well.
Christine was less than amused. “I feel like a horrible person. Nala’s my friend, and I just gossiped with Mandy about her.”
“You’re not a horrible person,” Cooper assured her. “Remember. Greater good. And you’re not going to spread that
gossip or let it taint your opinion of anyone, right?”
Christine nodded.
“So you don’t need to worry. Nala’s still your friend.” Cooper’s eyes went back to the copiers. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll make these run as good as new.”
Cooper went to work on the printers, giving both a thorough inspection and cleaning. As she did so, she continued to observe. Mandy was back at her desk, on the phone again, wearing her salesman smile. Kenneth’s office door was open, but Cooper couldn’t see inside. Nala sat in front of her computer, shoulders hunched forward over her keyboard, as she ignored the world around her. Dave listened to his music, pointedly avoiding any eye contact with his wife.
It was odd to think that right now, at this very moment, Cooper might be watching a killer.
She replaced the copier panel, packed up her tool kit, and wiped her hands on her uniform pants. As nonchalantly as she could manage, she moved to Christine’s desk.
“I’m all finished out here,” Cooper said. “Anything else I can do?”
Christine leaned in. “You can tell me if you noticed anything interesting.”
Cooper hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s wise to discuss it here.”
“I can’t wait until later. I just can’t.”
Cooper kept her voice low. “Well then, I have to say that I’m not sure what to think. It sounds like Sinclair really was tired and possibly sad. It’s conceivable that he did decide to end it all. However, knowing what we do now about Dave and Sinclair’s history, I’d say we have a prime suspect.”
Christine glanced over at Dave. “Dave? He’s a jerk, sure, but a killer?”
“You wanted my opinion. That’s it. I’m not saying I’m ready to go to McNamara with a theory. We don’t have all the facts yet. But as of right now, my money’s on Dave.” She looked at her watch. “The copiers are now in pristine condition, and I still have a few minutes. Got any other machines that need my attention?”
Christine smiled. “You don’t have to, you know. It’s not a real repair call.”
“Since I’m here, I might as well have a look. Besides, I’m spreading the good name of Make It Work!”
“I don’t think we . . . wait! Yes, we do! There’s a desktop printer in Sinclair’s office. It has some problems. He is . . . he was planning to get rid of it, but he wanted to have it looked at first. He was going to donate it somewhere, so he wanted it in good working order.”
“I’d be glad to inspect it for you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Christine, we’re going to be sisters. Just think of it as preemptive nepotism.”
Christine laughed. “If you say so. His is the closed door behind the reception desk. It should be unlocked.”
Quietly, Cooper went to the office and ventured inside. The overhead light hummed as it turned on. The air smelled stale, but the room was tidy, save for a thin layer of dust that had settled on everything from disuse.
Cooper could hear the front door open beyond the reception desk and a familiar voice loudly asked to see someone about a business opportunity. It was Trish, come to discuss real estate.
Cooper took the opportunity to nose around the office. Behind the large oak desk, a tall whiteboard was mounted to the wall. It said “Fitness Goals” at the top, with all the employees listed below, their goals and progress written beside their names. Cooper assumed it was for the fitness challenge Christine had mentioned.
Another wall was covered with built-in shelves, filled with books and knickknacks.
And there, on the desk, sat the printer. She pressed a button and waited as the machine came to life. The top piece of paper in the feeder tray jumped slightly, but it didn’t feed into the machine.
“That shouldn’t happen,” she said to herself. She popped the top off the printer and used the flashlight from her tool kit to look inside. Something was wedged in beside the rollers.
Sensing she’d found the problem, she used a long pair of tweezers and carefully slid them down into the printer. She caught the edge of the item and pulled it out. It was a business card.
For a psychiatrist.
“What are you doing in this office?” The voice came from the doorway.
Cooper spun around. Kenneth was staring at her expectantly. When Cooper didn’t answer immediately, he repeated, “What are you doing in this office?”
Donning her most professional expression, Cooper extended a hand to Kenneth. “Hi there! I’m Cooper with Make It Work! I’m here to fix any office equipment that needs fixing.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Who told you to come in here?”
Cooper almost said, “Christine,” but caught herself. She would never call a client by a first name. “Ms. Dexter,” she replied. “Ms. Dexter said your black-and-white printer was getting jammed. I remedied the problem and asked if any other machines were causing issues for you. She told me that you’re getting rid of this desktop printer and wanted to make sure it’s ready to donate. So, here I am.”
“Oh.” He relaxed, even smiled a little. “We’re all a little on edge these days. Thanks for taking care of it. Sinclair wanted to get rid of that printer for the longest time, but he never got around to it.”
“Well, I’ll check it out and let you know the diagnosis.”
Kenneth nodded and turned to leave. Then he paused, slowly returning his gaze to Cooper. “Say, you look familiar.”
“Maybe I’ve fixed office machines for you before.”
“We’ve only had one machine repaired, and it was a man who came to repair it.”
“Then maybe I repaired machines at your previous workplace. Make It Work! caters to many different businesses and—”
“I’m sure I know you,” he said, interrupting her spiel. “I’m pretty good with faces.”
Cooper felt the anxious heat crawling slowly up her neck. She needed to get away from him and fast, before he figured things out. He probably wouldn’t appreciate one of the employees staging an undercover operation to scope out possible murder suspects.
She closed the printer, keeping the business card in hand. “If you’ll let me, I’ll finish up here. I think I fixed the problem.”
“Problem? What problem?”
“There was an issue with the rollers. Something was wedged down beside them. It probably happened when someone changed the ink or cleared a paper jam.”
“Oh. What was stuck?”
Reluctantly, Cooper handed over the business card, quickly reading it again so she could remember the name.
Kenneth went pale. “This was stuck in Sinclair’s printer?”
“It was . . . Is there a problem?”
Kenneth cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders, trying but failing to hide how flustered he was. “Nothing that concerns you. Thanks for finding the problem. Just give Christine—Ms. Dexter—the bill, and she’ll get it taken care of.” He paused and stared at Cooper’s face. “Dexter. Her brother. Christine has a brother named Nathan Dexter.”
Cooper felt her heart beating faster. Kenneth was beginning to figure it out.
“She keeps a picture of him on her desk,” Kenneth continued, his eyes never leaving Cooper. “We ran into him at our work retreat the day Sinclair died. I didn’t meet him, but I saw him there with a group . . . You were there, too. You were with her brother.”
“Oh! That’s right!” Cooper said, her voice a little too high and a little too eager. “I guess I forgot.”
Kenneth poked his head out of the doorway. “Christine! I need to speak with you in Sinclair’s office now!”
A moment later, Christine hurried in. Her eyes were wide with worry. “Yeah, Kenneth? What’s the problem?”
Kenneth closed the door behind her and crossed his arms over his chest. “You tell me.”
“I . . . I don’t understand.”
He pointed at Cooper. “This woman was at the park Saturday. She’s a friend of your brother.”
Christine said nothing.
<
br /> “Now she’s here,” he continued. “And she’s claiming to be a stranger to us. Why is that?”
Christine hesitated and then stepped toward Kenneth, keeping her voice low. “Please, please don’t be mad, Kenneth. They’re here to help.”
“They?”
“Just hold on a second.” She left the room, returning a minute later with Jake and Trish. “They are friends of my brother. They have some experience with solving crimes.”
He looked skeptical. “Last I checked, the police were still calling Sinclair’s death a suicide.”
Cooper raised a hand to draw his attention. “They have their doubts about that. We want to help.”
“Why?”
“They want to help me,” Christine answered. “I’m the one who found Sinclair. And I was all by myself when I did. Mine will be the first head on the block if the police decide it was murder.”
“So you thought your brother’s friends could come over and try to pin it on someone else.”
“Not exactly. Only I know I didn’t do it, and I can’t imagine any of you doing it either. We’ll all be under suspicion, Kenneth, and we’ll all benefit from a helping hand. My friends are here to try and get a fresh perspective.”
Kenneth looked from Christine to Trish to Jake to Cooper, pensively rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Finally, he said, “It’s not a bad idea, really.”
Cooper couldn’t believe what she was hearing, and by the look on Christine’s face, she was just as surprised. Trish and Jake exchanged a wary look.
Kenneth explained. “Maybe it isn’t a bad idea to get an early jump on this mess, just in case.” He stared down at the business card in his hand. “Sinclair wasn’t the sort to kill himself. No, sir. I never thought so, at least. My only doubt is this card . . .”
Trish stepped forward. “Since the ruse is over, mind catching us up? What card are you talking about?”
“It’s for a psychiatrist,” Cooper explained. “It had dropped into the desktop printer and was stuck by the rollers. Kenneth, just because he was seeing a psychiatrist doesn’t mean he was suicidal. People see psychiatrists for a lot of different reasons.”
