The Reluctant Coroner - Paul Austin Ardoin (most romantic novels txt) 📗

their cars and drove away. Fenway started walking back to the police cruiser with Mark, the other two headed back to their cars as well.

“Sorry,” Mark said. “That’s rough, the stuff your dad said.”

“I don’t know. My father can be kind of hard on me sometimes, but I’d probably be just as pissed off as he was if the situation were reversed.” She stopped and looked back at the plane, which was again starting to taxi around. “And you know, even if I had remembered they were going to the movie premiere, I’d have still stopped their plane and checked it for Stotsky.”

“How’d you know about the luggage compartment?”

“My father bought a ten-million-dollar jet, but didn’t pay my mom a cent in alimony or child support. I got a little obsessed with that plane for a while.”

Mark nodded.

“Do you think my father suggested I fill in as coroner because he thought I was too naïve, or too incompetent to see when he was doing shady stuff?”

Mark smiled. “I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about your father. I hear stuff, sure, but I don’t really give a damn about most of it.”

“Well, that’s probably for the best. Maybe I should do more of that.”

They got to the cruiser. Mark put away the bullhorn while Fenway got in the passenger seat. She watched the small jet start to gain speed. It started to rise off the ground, then it was airborne. Its lights flickered in a regular pattern, and it was quickly out of her field of vision.

Her phone rang. She dug it out of her purse.

“Fenway Stevenson,” she answered.

“Hi, Fenway, this is Dr. Yasuda.”

“Dr. Yasuda, hi.” She put her finger in her other ear as Mark got in the car and started it up.

“Listen, I got the message you had a credible suspect before I left for the evening. A former CHP officer named Robert Stotsky. Is that correct?”

Mark turned the car around and headed back to the station.

“That’s right. I thought we might have caught him, but he wasn’t on the plane we stopped.”

“I thought you’d want to know we were able to lift the serial number off the gun. It’s a match to the one issued to Robert Stotsky when he was with the California Highway Patrol.”

“And he never handed it in?”

“No report on what happened to it.” She could hear Dr. Yasuda clicking on her computer. “There are about twenty guns similarly listed as whereabouts unknown, although most of those officers are still with the CHP.”

“I heard we had some partial prints, too?”

“Yes, from both inside the car and the gun.”

“Wasn’t the gun wiped clean?” Fenway asked.

“The outside was, but we got partials from whoever cleaned the gun last. And both sets of partials match the fingerprints in Stotsky’s file. Not sure how well it would stand up in court.”

“I don’t know if it will ever come to that. We had a witness identify Stotsky, and Stotsky fled. He might be in the wind. That’s why we’re at the airport.”

“I understand the suspect is a rather large man? His CHP file says six foot, five inches tall,” Dr. Yasuda said.

“Yes. Everything seems to be falling into place.”

Dr. Yasuda perked up. “Oh, speaking of falling into place, I have something on Dylan Richards.”

Fenway felt her shoulders sag. “Ugh.”

“Oh, you’ll have to forgive my morbid sense of humor. It comes out at the worst times.” The doctor stifled a laugh. “So, Richards. You’ll remember I told you someone, like Sheriff McVie, could have physically staged the scene with enough adrenaline? Someone with Robert Stotsky’s physical size would be more easily able to do it, even without a surge of adrenaline.”

“Do we have any evidence that can directly link Stotsky to Dylan’s murder?”

“Not as of yet, but we’re working on it.” She lowered her voice. “And, I must say, I’m relieved Sheriff McVie isn’t the main suspect anymore.”

Oh no, Fenway thought. Sheriff McVie. He’s been waiting at the station for me. Probably for a while now.

“I rather like him,” Yasuda continued. “One of the few law enforcement officers I’ve met who actually respects the M.E.’s office.”

Fenway swallowed hard and nodded.

Mark pulled into the transportation lot at the station. Fenway said goodbye to Dr. Yasuda and hung up the phone. She collected her purse, put her shoes back on, and went inside with Mark.

Sheriff McVie was talking with Celeste Salvador, the officer who had interviewed Fenway after Lana attacked her, in the station. It looked like she was updating him on the case.

Fenway walked up to him when Celeste finished.

“Hey, McVie.” Fenway tried a tentative smile.

McVie was all business. “Hi, Fenway. Looks like Stotsky didn’t have a car here—he was getting a ride with your dad. We’re tracking down the driver now to see if he saw anything or drove him anywhere.”

“The driver is probably en route between the airport and my father’s house.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I heard what happened over the radio.”

Fenway looked down at her shoes. “I’m sorry.”

McVie pulled her aside and lowered his voice. “Listen, when we were arguing earlier? I wasn’t going to say anything like what you were thinking. I was going to say the daughter of the most powerful man in the county. But I thought that would offend you. I never thought you were afraid I’d say something, well, a lot more offensive.”

She half-smiled. “I’ve made some really shitty assumptions about what you were thinking today, and some stuff you were going to say.”

“Yeah.”

“Anyway, I’m sorry,” she said genuinely. “It’s been an insane couple of days.”

McVie paused. “I told Amy I knew about her and Dylan. She, uh, she brought up a ton of emotional stuff. It’s not just the cheating. She’s really unhappy.”

“Yeah. Dez and I, we interviewed her earlier. We had to tell her Dylan was dead.” She looked down again. “She was devastated. I’m sorry you’re going through this. I know how much divorce sucks.”

McVie raised his head. “Oh, Fenway, we’re not getting a divorce.”

She looked back up at him. “What?”

“Not yet, anyway. We decided to work on our relationship. We’re setting up marriage counseling. We’ve got a ton of work to do, but Amy and I aren’t giving up—it’s hard enough on Megan as it is.”

“Oh.”

Fenway wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Part of her knew spending the night with him was a mistake, but part of her still wanted him to leave his wife. She could rationalize it—Amy had been cheating on Craig with a much younger man (younger than Fenway, even). The affair had gone on for a while, too, and it probably would have gone on for much longer if Harrison Walker hadn’t gotten killed. But, no matter how she rationalized it, and even though she thought it was a bad idea, she still wanted McVie to want her. She still wanted more nights with him.

“Did you tell her about me?”

He paused. “No. No, I didn’t tell her about us. She thinks I slept in the office last night. I didn’t really see any need to tell her otherwise.”

“So, you and I are done?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, slightly uncomfortable. “ I certainly liked that you and I seemed to work really well together. Professionally. Before, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know. I’d kind of like to forget either of us did what we did last night.” He looked in Fenway’s eyes. “I’d like us to be the kind of sheriff and coroner who can work together effectively. Bounce ideas off each other. Call each other on our bullshit. We were doing it well. For a couple of days, anyway.”

Fenway nodded solemnly. “And even if we can’t, you only have to put up with me for a few more months.”

“You never know. Life is full of surprises.”

“Okay,” she answered, not really knowing what else to say.

They were silent for a while.

McVie put his hand on her arm. “Listen, why don’t you go have dinner with Rachel? Get some take-out or something. I’ll call you if we have any updates on Stotsky’s whereabouts. If not, you’ve had a long day. Go home and get some sleep.”

Fenway nodded. McVie squeezed her arm gently and then patted her on the shoulder in a friendly kind of way, as if he were encouraging her during a basketball game. Fenway did, however, catch his eyes going down her legs, and looking at her strappy high heels back on her feet. He was trying to be subtle about it, but Fenway noticed his gaze lingering.

She thought about chasing McVie through the plaza. Tottering on the gravelly road to Dylan’s pickup. Running down the hallways of the church. Keeping up with Mark to get in the squad car. And, finally, McVie’s gaze lingering on her sexy shoes.

Yeah, Fenway thought, totally not worth it.