The Reluctant Coroner - Paul Austin Ardoin (most romantic novels txt) 📗
- Author: Paul Austin Ardoin
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Dez took a step forward to the desk. “I’m really sorry to be the one to tell you.”
“How?” Amy’s voice broke.
“I’m sorry.” Dez put her hand on Amy’s shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Amy. I wish we could tell you, but we aren’t allowed to comment on open investigations.”
Fenway grabbed a box of tissues off the bookshelf and put them on her desk. “Do you need us to drive you home?”
Amy’s breath caught, and she gasped a little, trying to keep control. “No. No, I told you, I have to deal with this house, and the buyers probably won’t take ‘my lover was murdered’ as an excuse.”
“We didn’t say he was murdered,” Dez said.
“Oh, give me a break,” Amy snapped. “It wouldn’t be an open investigation otherwise.”
“We’ll leave you alone then.” Dez motioned with her head for the two of them to leave.
They left Amy’s office and closed the door behind them. They walked in silence outside and got to the car.
“Okay,” Fenway said on a hard exhale as they got into the Accord. She started it up, and looked to Dez. “Now what?”
“Paperwork. Lots of paperwork. Maybe I can pawn that off on Migs.”
“Hey—isn’t Bradley supposed to be coming in for his interview?”
Dez looked at her watch. “Yeah. Migs told us he’d be in town by two, right? We’ll be able to get back in plenty of time.”
Fenway was quiet for a minute. “The sheriff is still investigating the case.”
“Yes.”
“And you and I are now treating McVie like the chief suspect.”
Dez blinked. “Yes.”
“Is there any way to get the sheriff to stop investigating?”
“Ugh. That’s going to be a political nightmare.”
“I kind of figured,” Fenway agreed, “but we can’t have him anywhere near this case, can we?”
Dez crossed her arms and tapped her foot. “No, I suppose we can’t.”
“So, who can get the sheriff off this case? Do we have to have the state police take over? Or the state attorney general, or the FBI?”
“Aren’t you taking the lead on the evidence? Tell him you’ve discovered a conflict of interest. He’s the one who insisted no one who had an active file with the coroner could touch the office, not even for fingerprints. I bet he’d recuse himself.”
“Yeah, I can tell him that,” Fenway nodded. “But stuff like interrogating Bradley is a gray area. You only know for sure it’s related to Walker’s murder if you know the same person is behind both the RAT malware and the emails to Walker.”
“Right. And McVie doesn’t know about what we found on the laptop yet.”
“But he will soon. And that’s why I have to get him off the case sooner rather than later.”
They rode in silence for another few miles.
“Man,” Dez said, breaking their silence. “I can’t believe you slept with him.” Her tone was seething.
“I’m sorry!” Fenway exclaimed. “I said it was a mistake.”
Dez was quiet again.
Migs was waiting for them at the entrance of the parking garage when they drove in. Fenway saw him and rolled down her window.
He rushed over, holding his tie down with one hand. “Bradley is back. I asked them to wait for you before they started. Mark is taking lead on it—I don’t know if they’ve started or not.”
“Crap. Migs, can you park the car?”
“Aw, Fenway, you gonna let that kid park your brand-new car?”
“Yes, Dez, I am. Now get out and let’s get over there before they start without us.”
They grabbed their purses, got out of the car, and started to hurry across the street. Dez, in her street shoes, easily passed Fenway in her high heels.
Fenway got over to the interview room to find the door closed. The observation room door was unlocked, though. Fenway opened it and found Dez and Sheriff McVie in there with two officers she didn’t recognize. They all were looking through the one-way mirror into the interview room, watching Mark and the officer to whom she had given her moving truck’s keys, Officer Callahan.
“Why aren’t you in there asking him the questions?” Fenway whispered to McVie.
“Because Callahan really gets on Bradley’s nerves. He’s had to fix Callahan’s computer a couple of times and got so frustrated with Callahan they almost got into a fistfight. So, we’re hoping for some of that unhinged magic to pry loose who Bradley is getting money from.” He reached forward to the wall and turned up the speaker a little so they could hear more clearly.
“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Bradley was saying. “I knew I’d have to deal with your stupid questions yesterday,” he nodded to Callahan, “and I was like, screw it, I’m going to Vegas. Let Piper kiss up to you, Callahan. I didn’t call in, I know, but I figured you wouldn’t fire me since I’m the only one who knows how to close down ports on the firewall.”
“Sure, I understand. But here’s the thing, Bradley.” Mark reached down next to him and pulled up several reports. “You may be the only one to deal with the firewall, but you’re not the only who can run reports on it. And it looks to me like you’ve opened up some holes in the firewall you shouldn’t have. It looks to me like you’ve been letting someone use their remote access virus—”
“Hang on, Sergeant.” Callahan held up his hand. “I think Bradley would want you to call that type of malware a Trojan horse. Technically, it’s not a virus.” He turned to Bradley. “Am I correct? This is a Trojan horse, not a virus, right?”
Bradley sneered and looked at the floor.
“Please continue, Sergeant.”
“Thanks, Callahan. At any rate, whatever it’s called, you not only allowed it to be installed, you not only opened up the firewall ports so the traffic could go through, but you falsified the reports on all of it too.”
“Maybe I should ask for my lawyer.” Bradley folded his arms.
“Oh, you could certainly do that. Callahan, refresh my memory, what did we arrest Mr. Watermeier for?”
“I believe it was the invasion of privacy statute, Sergeant.”
Bradley scoffed. “You know that’s only for revenge porn and upskirt photos and stuff. You’re not even accusing me of any of that perverted shit.”
Callahan nodded. “Now, Sergeant, isn’t Mr. Watermeier correct in saying this wasn’t used for anything lascivious or dirty? Surely this is only punishable by firing, correct? This is obviously against our internal policies, but it cannot possibly meet the criminal standard—and besides, invasion of privacy is only a misdemeanor, right?”
“Impressive, Callahan. You’re sure thinking like a defense attorney.” Mark tapped his temple. “It sounds like Mr. Watermeier did his homework on this one.”
“They’re doing a good job playing off each other,” Fenway whispered to McVie. “This is entertaining to watch.”
“Shh,” shushed McVie.
“But,” Mark continued, “we’re actually going to be filing some additional charges. We found out when the malware was installed, and when those ports were opened to allow it, and we can conclusively prove it was Mr. Watermeier who did it. So, we’ll also be adding electronic eavesdropping charges.”
“Ah.” Callahan smiled knowingly.
“Bradley, you’re a smart guy. You know what a wobbler is?”
“Yeah.” Bradley’s voice was miserable.
Callahan looked at Mark with a comically confused expression. He was clearly enjoying this. “A wobbler. I’m not sure I know what that is, Sergeant. But then, I’m not too bright. In fact, Mr. Watermeier can attest to me not being too bright. I think I need my memory refreshed on that one.”
“Sure thing, Callahan. A wobbler is when the prosecutor can decide if they want to charge a crime as a misdemeanor or a felony.”
“Oh, right!” Callahan exclaimed, smacking his forehead. “The misdemeanor is a maximum of six months. The felony is three years.” He smiled. “That’s quite a wobble.”
“Callahan, is there anything you can think of that would make the prosecutor decide to charge this as a misdemeanor and not a felony?”
“Sure I can, Sergeant. I don’t think we’ve let Bradley know that we have also seen several large cash deposits made every month since the time those firewall ports were opened. And even I know if Bradley, here, tells us who paid him to electronically eavesdrop on Rachel, the prosecutor will be a lot more lenient.”
Mark swiveled his head slowly to look at Bradley. “What do you think, Bradley? You think you might want to tell us who it was who paid you?”
Bradley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He never told me his name.”
“Did you see him?”
“Yeah.”
Callahan picked up the
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