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 glass, 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 of the glass with her tweezers.”
“Or his 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 glass 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 documents aren’t real, but he could still have had them made showing his own name. He didn’t steal anyone else’s identity. I already checked that out.”
Somehow, Cooper was pleased to learn that Miguel wasn’t guilty of identity theft, even though he’d clearly committed a minor crime by purchasing false documents. “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 glass and touched its jagged point. “But 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.
Unintentionally, she gripped the piece of glass 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 embarrassed secretary that the damaged copier would have to be replaced. She then headed off for her next assignment.
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