Delivery Dr.iver’s Routine Shift Ends in Bloodshed After He Allegedly Finds Wife With Another Man
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I have to get to work,” he said, getting up from the table.
Sheris nodded without looking up.
Demetrius stood there for a moment, waiting for her to at least look at him.
Wish him luck like she used to, but she continued typing something on her phone.
He grabbed his car keys and left the house.
His old Honda started with difficulty on the third try.
Demetrius opened the Door Dash app and marked himself as ready to take orders.
Almost immediately, a notification came in for his first delivery.
Pick up breakfast from a diner on Woodward Avenue and deliver it to an office building in downtown.
Demetrius started the car and pulled onto the road.
Detroit was waking up slowly.
There were still few cars on the streets and shop windows were just beginning to light up.
Demetrius drove along familiar routes, tuning the radio to a station that played old hits from the ‘9s.
He had been working as a courier for 4 years and the job had become second nature to him.
Take an order, pick it up, deliver it, get the next one.
Sometimes customers left tips.
Sometimes they didn’t.
Sometimes they thanked him, sometimes they didn’t even open the door, just asked him to leave it at the doorstep.
He delivered the first order quickly and received a $5 tip.
Then there was a second, third, and fourth.
By noon, Demetrius was tired, but he kept working.
He couldn’t afford to stop.
The bills weren’t waiting.
Mortgage, utilities, insurance, gas.
All of this required money, which was always in short supply.
At 12, he saw that the next order had to be picked up from a pizzeria on Greyhot Avenue.
Demetrius smiled.
That meant he would have time to meet up with Rashad.
His best friend, Rashad Powell, also worked for Door Dash, and they often ran into each other at the same places where they picked up orders.
They even had a tradition.
If they had a free minute, they would go to a small diner next to the pizzeria and grab a quick bite to eat together.
Rashad was already sitting in the snack bar when Demetrius walked in.
He waved to his friend, and Demetrius joined him at a table by the window.
“How’s it going, bro?” Rashad asked, pushing his plate with an uneaten burger aside.
Same old, Demetrius shrugged and ordered himself a coffee and a sandwich.
Just another day.
How about you? Fine.
Today I had a customer who started yelling at me because I was 3 minutes late.
3 minutes? Can you believe it? I told him I was stuck in traffic, but he demanded that I refund his delivery fee.
It’s a good thing the app doesn’t allow that, or I would have lost money.
Demetrius smiled faintly.
Rashad always knew how to tell stories in such a way that even the most unpleasant situations sounded almost funny.
They were silent for a moment.
Then Rashad looked closely at his friend.
Listen, why are you so I don’t know, sad? Did something happen? Demetrius wondered whether he should talk about it, but then decided that if not with Rashad, then with whom? I don’t even know.
Shares.
She’s been acting strange lately, cold.
It’s like I’ve become invisible to her.
I try to talk to her, but she brushes me off.
I try to suggest spending time together, but she always has something else to do.
Rashad frowned.
How long has this been going on? 3 months, maybe four.
At first, I thought she was just having problems at work or something, but now I don’t know, Rashad.
Sometimes I think she has someone else that she’s cheating on me.
The words hung in the air and Demetrius felt a tightness inside as he finally said it out loud.
Rashad paused then asked cautiously, “Do you have any proof? Have you seen anything?” “No, nothing specific, just a feeling.
She’s been looking at her phone more often, hiding it when I come near.
She stays late in the evenings, saying they have a lot of work at the clinic.
But when I call her there, they tell me she’s already left.
” Rashad shook his head.
Listen, I don’t want to meddle, but if you really suspect something, maybe you should have her followed or hire a private investigator.
I know a guy who doesn’t charge much.
Demetrius shook his head.
No, I can’t.
I can’t do that.
What if I’m wrong? What if I start following her and then it turns out there’s nothing going on and I’m just being paranoid? Besides, I don’t have the money for a detective, Rashad.
We’re barely making ends meet.
But if something is really going on, it’s better to know the truth than to live in ignorance, Rashad said gently.
Maybe.
But I’m afraid to find out the truth.
Do you understand? If she really is cheating on me, I don’t know what I’ll do.
I love her, Rashad.
Even now when she treats me like I’m invisible, I still love her.
Rashad put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.
I understand, bro, but you can’t live like this.
It’s killing you.
I can see it.
Maybe just try to have a serious talk with her.
Ask her directly what’s going on.
I tried.
She doesn’t want to talk.
She says everything is fine, that it’s me who has problems, not her.
Demetrius’s phone vibrated.
A new order had come in.
He looked at the screen and sighed.
I have to go.
Thanks for listening.
Anytime, bro.
Hang in there.
And if anything happens, call me.
I’m always ready to talk.
Demetrius nodded, left the money on the table, and left the diner.
The next few hours passed in the usual routine of deliveries, but the conversation with Rashad wouldn’t leave his mind.
Maybe his friend was right.
Maybe he should have done something instead of just waiting for everything to work itself out.
At 4, while Demetrius was delivering an order to one of the suburbs, he received a call from his boss, Tyrone Gribs.
Demetrius pressed the answer button, already sensing trouble.
Cole, where are you? Gribs barked without any greeting.
On McNotton Avenue just delivered an order.
I have a customer here complaining that you’re 20 minutes late.
20 minutes, Cole.
Do you even realize that’s unacceptable? Demetrius gripped the steering wheel tighter.
Sorry, there was traffic on Gracadot.
I couldn’t get around it.
I don’t care about your traffic.
Griggs interrupted him.
Your job is to deliver orders on time.
If you can’t handle it, tell us and we’ll find someone who can.
Got it.
Yes, I got it.
And one more thing.
You’ve already had three complaints this week.
Three? If there’s a fourth, I’ll have to let you go.
So, I advise you to buckle down and do your job properly.
Is that clear? Clear? Demetrius replied quietly.
Gribs hung up without even saying goodbye.
Demetrius put the phone on the passenger seat and closed his eyes for a few seconds.
Fatigue weighed heavily on him.
He felt hunted, as if the whole world was against him.
At home, his wife was cold to him.
At work, his boss constantly complained, and everywhere he went, he felt like he wasn’t good enough, fast enough, or successful enough.
The rest of the day passed in a blur.
Demetrius delivered orders, trying not to be late and not to receive any new complaints.
By 7:00 in the evening, he finally marked himself as unavailable for new orders and drove home.
When he entered the house, the first thing he heard was his mother-in-law’s voice.
Vivien Larkin was sitting on the couch next to her daughter, and both women were watching some show on TV.
Demetrius said hello, but Vivien only glanced at him briefly and then stared back at the screen.
“Good evening, Vivien,” he repeated, taking off his jacket.
Good evening, his mother-in-law replied dryly.
Sher said you’d be home late tonight.
Work, Demetrius explained briefly as he walked into the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator, hoping to find something for dinner, but the shelves were almost empty.
Sherice clearly hadn’t cooked today.
Demetrius took out some leftover chicken and reheated it in the microwave.
Sherice said that one of the administrators at their clinic got a promotion.
Viven’s voice came from the living room, deliberately loud enough for Demetrius to hear.
Now she’ll be making $500 more a month.
Can you imagine? That’s what it means to work for a good company that values its employees.
Demetrius understood the hint perfectly and remained silent.
Mom, let’s not talk about it, Sharice said quietly, but her voice lacked conviction.
Why not? Viven continued.
It’s true.
People who work in normal jobs get raises, bonuses, and climb the career ladder.
And some people just keep delivering food for the rest of their lives.
Demetrius clenched his fork so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
He knew that Vivien had never loved him that she considered him unworthy of her daughter.
From the very beginning of their relationship, she had done everything she could to convince Caris that she was marrying a loser.
And it seemed she had succeeded.
He finished his chicken, washed the dishes, and went into the living room.
Vivien was still sitting on the sofa, sprawled out and sipping tea.
“I don’t want to offend anyone,” Vivian continued, clearly enjoying herself.
“I’m just telling it like it is.
My daughter deserves a better life.
She deserves a man who can take care of her, not one who can barely afford his mortgage.
” Demetrius walked past them into the bedroom without saying a word.
He knew that any attempt to argue with Viven would result in an even bigger scandal, and Sharice would not defend him anyway.
He closed the bedroom door, sat down on the bed, and buried his head in his hands.
Half an hour later, Caris came in.
She silently began to get dressed, not looking at her husband.
“Caris,” Demetrius called to her.
“We need to talk.
” “Not now, Demetrius.
I’m tired.
We haven’t talked in months.
What’s going on between us? Sheris turned to him and he saw neither warmth nor love in her eyes, only irritation.
What’s going on? Nothing’s going on.
Life is going on.
Work, chores, fatigue.
Not everyone has time to sit around and ponder their feelings.
I’m not asking you to sit and ponder.
I just want to understand why you’ve become so distant.
Why don’t you talk to me anymore? Why are you avoiding me? Sher sighed as if talking to him was an unbearable burden.
Demetrius, I’m really tired.
Let’s not do this today, okay? I want to sleep.
She lay down on the bed and turned her back to the wall.
Demetrius looked at her back at the curve of her shoulder and felt a void growing inside him.
He lay down next to her, but there was a whole chasm between them.
In the darkness of the bedroom, Demetrius lay with his eyes open, listening to Sharice breathe.
She breathed evenly, calmly, and he felt completely alone.
He thought about how they had once been happy, how she had laughed at his jokes, how they had dreamed of the future together.
Now it all seemed so distant, as if it were the life of completely different people.
He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but sleep would not come.
His mother-in-law’s words, his wife’s cold gaze, his boss’s voice swirled around in his head.
Everything mixed into one heavy lump that pressed on his chest and prevented him from breathing.
Demetrius understood that it was impossible to go on living like this, but he didn’t know how to change it.
He didn’t know where to start to get back what they once had.
And somewhere deep down, he was afraid that nothing could be recovered.
The morning of October 10th began just like the previous one.
Demetrius woke up to the alarm clock, turned it off, and lay there for a few minutes, staring at the ceiling.
Sheras was sleeping next to him, turned away.
He got up quietly, got ready and left the house without waking his wife.
He hadn’t been able to sleep well that night, constantly replaying yesterday evening in his head, his mother-in-law’s words, Sherice’s cold gaze.
But now he had to work.
He started the car and turned on the app.
The first order came almost immediately.
pick up coffee and croissants from a coffee shop on Grand River and deliver them to an office on the outskirts of Detroit.
Demetrius accepted the order and drove off.
The day dragged on with the usual series of deliveries.
Demetrius drove from one address to another, climbed stairs, rang doorbells, and left packages at doors.
Some customers thanked him, some didn’t even come out.
They just wrote in the app for him to leave the order on the doorstep.
He tried to work quickly, avoid new complaints, and not give Gribs a reason to yell at him again.
By midday, the sky had clouded over, and a light rain had begun to fall.
Demetrius turned on the windshield wipers and continued on his route.
He tried not to think about home, about his wife, about the conversation that hadn’t happened last night.
Work was a distraction, a chance to not dwell on what he couldn’t change.
At the beginning of his first day, a new order notification popped up on his phone.
Demetrius glanced at the screen and saw that he needed to pick up a pizza from a pizzeria on McNulks Avenue and deliver it to Glenwood Avenue.
He thought for a second, then realized it was the street where he lived.
What’s more, the delivery address was the house number of his neighbor, Quim Abeni.
Demetrius felt something warm inside.
It was a rare opportunity to get an order right next to his house.
That meant that after the delivery, he could stop by home, have a quick lunch, and maybe even get some rest.
He accepted the order and drove to the pizzeria.
He picked up the pizza in 15 minutes, a large box with pepperoni and cheese crusts.
Demetrius put it on the passenger seat, secured it so it wouldn’t slide around on the turns, and drove to Glenwood Avenue.
The trip took about 20 minutes.
The rain intensified, and Demetrius drove carefully, not exceeding the speed limit.
When he turned onto his street, his heart beat a little faster with anticipation.
Soon he would be home, even if only for a short time.
Maybe Sharice was also home on her lunch break, and they could at least talk a little.
Demetrius parked outside Keyy’s house, grabbed the pizza box, and got out of the car.
His neighbor’s house was almost identical to his own.
Same two stories, same gray siding, same small lawn in front of the entrance.
Only keys looked a little neater, a little more well-kept.
Demetrius walked up to the porch and rang the doorbell.
He waited.
No one answered.
He rang again and knocked on the door.
Silence.
Demetrius frowned and looked at the driveway.
Keyy’s dark blue car was parked there, which meant his neighbor must be home.
Maybe he was in the shower or wearing headphones and couldn’t hear the doorbell.
Demetrius knocked again, louder this time.
There was no answer.
Demetrius took out his phone and dialed the customer’s number listed in the app.
The phone rang, but no one answered.
After the fifth ring, the answering machine kicked in.
Demetrius hung up and thought for a moment.
Should he leave the pizza on the doorstep? But it was raining outside and the box would get wet.
Besides, the order instructions didn’t say it was okay to leave it without delivering it.
He tried the door handle and to his surprise, the door opened.
It wasn’t locked.
Demetrius pushed it open and looked inside.
“Quainy, hey neighbor, are you home?” he called, stepping over the threshold.
“I brought your pizza, but you didn’t answer.
The door was open, so I came in.
” His voice trailed off.
In the hallway on the doormat, were a pair of women’s shoes, beige pumps with small heels.
Demetrius recognized them instantly.
They were Sherice’s shoes, the ones she wore to work.
Her coat was hanging on the coat rack, the gray coat he had given her for her birthday two years ago.
Demetrius’s heart pounded wildly.
He stood there holding the pizza box, looking at those shoes, at that coat, and fragments of thoughts raced through his mind.
Maybe she had stopped by her neighbors for some reason.
Maybe she needed to ask something, borrow something.
But why wasn’t she at work? Why were her things here? A sound came from the upper floor.
First quiet laughter, a woman’s, familiar.
Then a man’s voice, muffled but discernible.
Then other sounds that left no doubt about what was happening upstairs.
Demetrius froze.
The pizza box slipped from his hands and fell to the floor with a dull thud.
He didn’t hear the thud.
He only heard his own heartbeat and the sounds from above that were tearing him apart inside.
Slowly, as if in a dream, he walked toward the stairs.
His legs moved on their own without his will.
His hand rested on the railing.
Each step seemed endless.
The laughter upstairs had died down, and now only muffled voices and other, more intimate sounds could be heard.
Demetrius reached the second floor.
The bedroom door was a jar.
He stopped in front of it and stood there for a few seconds, unable to take the last step.
Part of him wanted to turn around, walk away, never know what was behind that door.
But another part, the part that had endured months of coldness, suspicion, and humiliation, pushed the door open.
The bedroom was flooded with daylight from the large window.
On the bed, among the crumpled sheets lay and karice.
They were naked, and Qua was kissing Demetrius’s wife on the neck while she threw her head back, closing her eyes.
Time stood still.
Demetrius stood in the doorway and everything inside him turned to ice.
He looked at the scene and couldn’t believe it was real, that it was really happening.
Sheris was the first to open her eyes and see him.
She screamed and pulled away from Quaim pulling the sheet over herself.
Quaim turned abruptly, saw Demetrius, and froze for a second, then sat up on the bed, making no attempt to cover himself.
What? What are you doing here? Shares gasped and there was no shame in her voice, only irritation and anger at being caught.
Demetrius couldn’t speak.
He just stared at her atwim at the bedroom and couldn’t form a single coherent thought in his head.
I asked what you’re doing here, Caris repeated louder, now openly angry.
Are you following me? Demetrius finally found his voice and unfamiliar.
I I brought pizza, a delivery.
I’m a courier, remember? I didn’t know.
I didn’t think.
Quain smirked and leaned back on the pillows, clearly enjoying the situation.
Well, Caris, I told you that sooner or later he would find out.
Although, to be honest, I thought you would tell him yourself, but you kept putting it off and putting it off, and it turns out he found out for himself.
How ironic, isn’t it? Shut up, Quain.
Caris hissed, but her words were more of a formality.
She looked at Demetrius, and there was not a trace of regret in her gaze.
You wanted to know the truth? Here it is.
Yes, I’m having an affair with Quim.
It’s been 6 months, and you know what? I don’t regret a thing.
Demetrius felt something inside him break, crack, fall apart.
How could you? He croked.
How could you do this to me? We’re husband and wife.
We made vows to each other.
Sherris laughed bitterly.
Vows? Seriously, Demetrius, look at yourself.
You’re a loser.
You deliver pizza at 34 years old.
You have no ambition, no plans for the future.
You’re content with what you have and don’t strive for anything more.
I’m tired of living in this poverty.
Tired of making excuses to people for what my husband does for a living.
I work so we can pay for our house, our food, everything we need, Demetrius replied, feeling something dark and terrible boiling up inside him.
I work two jobs so you can live a normal life.
Normal? Charice jumped out of bed, wrapped herself in a sheet, and walked over to him.
You call this normal? Watching all my friends husbands build their careers, buy new cars, go on vacations, and what do I have? I have a courier husband who can barely make ends meet.
You’re pathetic, Demetrius.
You’ve always been pathetic and I’m not going to put up with it anymore.
Quain got out of bed, still naked, and walked over to them.
He was a head taller than Demetrius, broader in the shoulders, and stood there with a smug smile on his face.
Listen, buddy.
Don’t make a big deal out of this.
You knew something was wrong, didn’t you? You saw her pulling away from you.
You just didn’t want to admit the obvious.
So, don’t make a scene now.
You delivered the pizza.
Take your tip and get out.
Leave us alone and we’ll continue what we started.
He reached for the nightstand, took out a few bills, and threw them on the floor in front of Demetrius.
Here, take it.
$15.
That’s more than you deserve.
Qua laughed, and that laugh was full of contempt.
Shereice smiled too, looking down at her husband.
Yes, Demetrius, just go.
We’ll talk later, or we won’t.
Either way, I’m filing for divorce.
It’ll be better for both of us.
Demetrius stood and looked at them, at this woman he loved, at this man who laughed in his face.
Something inside him snapped completely.
Years of humiliation, ridicule, and neglect all came crashing down on him at once, and he could no longer bear it, but outwardly he showed nothing.
His face became strangely calm, almost indifferent.
He nodded as if agreeing with their words.
“All right,” he said quietly.
“I’ll leave the pizza and go.
” He turned and slowly descended the stairs.
Sharice and Qua remained upstairs and he could hear them talking.
Quim laughing again.
There was a strange emptiness in his head as if all emotion had suddenly disappeared, leaving only cold, crystalclear thought.
Demetrius walked into the kitchen.
There was a vase of fruit on the table, magnets on the refrigerator, and a pot with some kind of plant on the windowsill.
It was an ordinary kitchen belonging to an ordinary person.
On the counter by the wall was a knife block, dark wood, five slots for knives of different sizes.
Demetrius approached the block and pulled out a large kitchen knife.
The blade was sharp and shiny.
He looked at it for a few seconds, then gripped the handle tightly.
He turned and walked back to the stairs.
His legs carried him as if he had no control over his body.
Voices could still be heard upstairs.
Sherice was saying something, laughing.
Demetrius climbed the stairs silently, slowly.
The bedroom door was still a jar.
He pushed it open.
Quim stood by the window, still naked, looking out at the street.
Charice sat on the edge of the bed, putting on her underwear.
Both turned at the sound of the door opening.
“You’re not gone yet?” Quim asked irritably.
“I told you.
” He didn’t finish.
Demetrius stepped forward and then everything happened quickly mechanically as if someone else were controlling his hands.
He didn’t hear any screams, didn’t feel any resistance.
Everything happened in a strange silence where there was only the beating of his heart and the movements of his body.
When it was over, Demetrius stood in the middle of the bedroom breathing heavily.
The knife fell from his hand and landed on the carpet.
Shares lay on the floor by the bed, quim by the window.
Neither of them moved.
The sheets on the bed were stained red.
Demetrius looked at his hands.
They were also covered in blood.
Slowly, as if waking from a dream, he looked around.
What had he done? What had he just done? But there was no panic.
There was only the same strange emptiness and clarity of thought.
He bent down, picked up the knife, and wiped it on the sheet.
Then he took all the linens off the bed, sheets, pillowcases, bedspread.
Everything was stained.
He gathered it into a large pile.
Sherice’s clothes were on a chair by the wall.
Her blouse, skirt, underwear, Quame’s clothes, his shirt, and pants were carelessly thrown on the floor.
Demetrius gathered them up and added them to the sheets.
Then he looked at the bodies.
They had to be removed.
Hide them.
He couldn’t just leave them here.
Demetrius approached Kay, took him by the arms, and dragged him to the door.
The body was heavy, but adrenaline gave him strength.
He carried it down the stairs, trying not to leave any traces, then dragged it through the kitchen to the door leading to the basement.
The basement door was at the end of the hallway behind the kitchen.
Demetrius opened it and turned on the light.
A narrow staircase led down to a small room with a concrete floor.
There were old boxes, some tools, and a bicycle.
Demetrius dragged Quim’s body downstairs and left it against the far wall.
Then he went back upstairs for Sharice.
Her body was lighter.
He carried her to the basement and laid her next tow.
Then he took the bloodstained sheets, clothes, and anything else that could indicate what had happened downstairs.
He locked the basement door and put the key in his pocket.
Demetrius went up to the second floor.
There were blood stains on the carpet in the bedroom, but he had removed most of it along with the sheets.
He looked around the room, then decided it would do.
No one would be coming in here for the next few days.
He went downstairs and into the bathroom on the first floor.
He turned on the water and washed his hands and face thoroughly.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
His face was pale, but calm.
He took off his jacket.
It had several stains on it.
Demetrius put it in a plastic bag he found under the sink, tied it shut, and hid it behind his back.
Then he returned to the hallway.
The pizza box was still lying on the floor where he had dropped it.
Demetrius picked it up, went out onto the porch, and carefully placed it by the door.
As if he had simply delivered the order, found no one home, and left the pizza as requested.
He closed the door to the Keem house, walked down the porch, and got into his car.
He started the engine.
He looked in the rearview mirror.
The house looked calm, normal.
There were no signs that anything terrible had happened inside.
Demetrius marked the order as delivered in the app and drove away from Glenwood Avenue.
A few minutes later, a new order came in, pick up Chinese food, and deliver it to the other side of town.
He accepted the order and drove on.
There was a strange calmness in his soul.
Years of pent-up resentment, pain, and humiliation had burst out, leaving only emptiness behind.
He felt no remorse.
He felt no horror at what he had done.
He felt only relief, as if a heavy burden he had carried for too long had been lifted from his shoulders.
Demetrius drove through the rainy streets of Detroit, fulfilling orders, talking to customers, smiling when necessary, and no one could have suspected that a few hours ago this quiet, polite courier had done something that the whole city would learn about in 3 days.
