The Reluctant Coroner - Paul Austin Ardoin (most romantic novels txt) 📗
- Author: Paul Austin Ardoin
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Bradley looked at them. “It wasn’t any of these guys.” He hung his head. “I told you, I don’t know the guy’s name. He sat behind me in the coffee shop one day and made the offer. I barely talked to him. The next day I went back to the coffee shop to meet him, and I thought he didn’t show, but when I got home, I had an envelope full of cash in my laptop bag, and a note that identified what ports to open, and where to leave a flash drive for the anonymizer. I covered my tracks when I made the changes, too, because I knew it would raise red flags.”
“Hey, Sergeant, covering his tracks—isn’t that obstruction of justice?”
“Good question, Officer. It’s a gray area in state law. Maybe not so gray with the feds, though. But I don’t think Bradley is going to do anything to make us call the feds.”
“I don’t know. Bradley’s a pretty smart guy. He’s smarter than me, for sure. Maybe he thinks he’s smarter than the feds.”
Bradley looked wretched. “I’m telling you, I don’t know who hired me. I’ve told you everything I know.”
“Sit tight, Bradley. Callahan and I are going to go discuss this with the D.A. We’ll let him know you wanted to cooperate, but you don’t have any useful information.” Mark stood up and turned to the door.
“Wait!” exclaimed Bradley. “That’s it? Those six pictures are all you have? Isn’t there, like, some big binder I can look through?”
Mark nodded. “Well, Bradley, that’s the kind of stuff we like to hear. That is cooperation! I’m delighted to hear it. Callahan, why don’t you get a couple of the binders for Mr. Watermeier to start on. Bradley, you hungry? You want anything to eat?”
They started talking about the kind of tacos Bradley wanted. Fenway figured Bradley would be busy with lunch and the binders for a couple of hours, at least—maybe more. She figured it was time to see if she could pull the sheriff off the case.
Fenway tapped the sheriff on the shoulder and motioned with her head for him to come outside with her. She let herself out of the viewing room and he followed.
They stopped in front of the coffee station and she turned to him, a serious look on her face. “I really don’t want to tell you this.”
McVie tilted his head.
Fenway lowered her voice. “I think you better recuse yourself from these investigations.”
He looked annoyed. “Look, Fenway, just because you don’t like what I had to say this morning—”
Fenway scoffed. “I sure as hell didn’t like it. But that’s not the issue. It’s likely to come out that Dylan and Amy were having an affair, and if we don’t pull you off the investigation now, whoever we do arrest will have more than reasonable doubt to throw out every piece of evidence you’ve touched.”
McVie nodded. “I know I told you to treat everyone, even me, as a suspect, but when Dylan became the lead suspect—I don’t know if you noticed—I haven’t gone anywhere near the Walker investigation unless I’ve had to. Mark’s the one who found the car. I didn’t even go down to LAX.”
“You had Dylan’s Glock in your custody when we went to see the M.E.”
McVie looked at the ground. “Yeah, but you saw how that turned out. You know I’m not trying to railroad him.”
“Don’t you see, though, Craig? That looks bad. It looks bad that you know these details. If you were trying to pin the murder on Dylan—which I guarantee is what the defense will argue—you had access to all the evidence. You might have hidden exculpatory evidence, or had Mark plant something to make it look like he did it.”
“Yeah, well, there isn’t going to be a defense now, is there?” McVie snarled. “I know you and I don’t know each other very well, but accusing me of planting evidence with absolutely no foundation is pretty low.”
“Craig, I’m not—”
“Stop it!” he barked. An officer at a desk nearby turned his head toward them. “Stop it, Fenway,” he said more quietly. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but it feels like a coup.” He took a few steps back and put his hand over his mouth and closed his eyes.
Fenway felt the awkward silence as she stood and waited. It felt like a long time to her.
McVie opened his eyes and dropped his hand to his side. “Okay, Fenway. I’m going to step away from the investigation completely in the hopes this doesn’t become public. I’ll continue with Bradley, and I’ll stay far away from any car, or any laptop, or any stolen files.”
Fenway rubbed her forehead. “You can’t investigate Bradley either.”
“What? I thought we just established that Dylan wasn’t the one who paid Bradley. This looks to me like a separate case.”
Fenway shook her head. “It’s not. It’s the same case.”
McVie set his jaw. “Oh, I see what’s going on.”
She was quiet.
“I was afraid of this. Am I a suspect in Dylan’s death, now?”
She paused. “I don’t think you killed Dylan.”
McVie stepped closer to Fenway, speaking softly. “I should hope not, as we were going for round two when Dylan killed himself.” He stepped back and shook his head. “And you’re thinking you don’t want to tell anyone we were together last night, because Daddy would get mad and might not pay for your apartment anymore.”
“That’s not why, and you know it,” she whispered, a hard edge in her voice. “Besides, you know it would be worse for you than for me; your wife doesn’t know about last night, and sheriff is an elected position in this county. A man who sleeps with the much-younger woman he appointed might not get re-elected.”
“So not only are you forcing me into a leave of absence, you’re telling me I’m too old. I’ll tell you something. The voters don’t care that you’re much younger, princess, they only care—” And he stopped suddenly.
Fenway’s eyes narrowed. “They only care what?”
“Never mind.”
She grabbed his wrist. “They only care that your ghosty-white ass fucked a black girl? Is that what you were going to say?”
“Let go of me.”
“Or were you going to use another term besides ‘black girl’?” she hissed.
“I wasn’t going to say anything like that,” he snarled, shaking her loose. “Don’t worry, Fenway. I’m done investigating any of this. With or without you. We’re done.” McVie looked her in the eye, then turned and stormed off.
Fenway watched him go into the back offices. Then she turned and left through the front door, past the strange look she thought she was getting from the desk officer who had raised his head when McVie raised his voice. She hoped he hadn’t heard the other parts of their conversation.
She had to clear her head. She wanted to walk a circuitous loop around the city center buildings, through the plaza, but she knew it would be uncomfortable in her high heels. She started through the plaza anyway, then turned halfway through and headed back across the street. The memorial service was in a few hours, she remembered, and she needed to find out how to get to the church. As Fenway went inside her office building, she pulled the map up on her phone, but realized she didn’t know what church it was.
“Hey, Migs.” Her head was down as she stared at her phone. “Any more on the identity of the emailer from Piper?”
“No,” a female voice said, “but they found Dylan’s truck.”
Startled, Fenway popped her head up. Rachel was sitting back at her desk.
“Rachel!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s what I said when she came in,” said Migs, sounding a little exasperated. “You should be at home, Rachel.”
“Listen, Fenway,” Rachel said with a guilty look on her face. “I know you were expecting me to be out all week, but if I don’t have something to distract myself, I’m going to go crazy.”
“No, Rachel, absolutely not. I can’t let you do that.”
Rachel’s eyes were wide and doe-like. “Please, Fenway, I couldn’t get Walker out of my head all weekend, and now I can’t get the image of Dylan out of my head.”
Fenway shook her head. “You need to give yourself some time. You need to be with family.”
“Please. My dad hated Dylan.”
“Rachel, come on. You’ve been through a lot this week. Don’t you have arrangements you need to make?”
“Dylan’s mom insisted on handling everything. I don’t have anything to do but sit in our apartment feeling sorry for myself.”
Fenway studied Rachel’s face for a minute. She thought she could see the stress in her eyes, but she wasn’t sure. Rachel looked away quickly. “I don’t know if you’re in shock,
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