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

“Okay,” Dez said, “she doesn’t even work here yet and already we’re dragging her out drinking. This certainly bodes well, Sheriff.” She winked at Fenway.

Everyone murmured goodbyes as Fenway and McVie left the coroner’s suite.

McVie closed the door behind them. “All right?”

“To be honest, I wanted more time with them. See what makes them tick. But I can get that at happy hour.”

“You’re okay with them?”

“It’s a nice enough group of people.”

“Don’t let Dez get to you. She hates everyone.”

“I don’t know.” Fenway shrugged. “She says what she thinks.”

McVie let out a chuckle. “If you mean she’s a real pain in the ass, I agree.”

“Oh, she wasn’t looking to fight me or anything.”

“It didn’t look like she was getting ready to sing ‘Kumbaya’ either. Still, I thought you did well.”

The two walked over to Pizzeria Santa Lucia on Fourth Street. At the counter, Fenway ordered a beer, a local pale ale made in Paso Querido. McVie ordered a Spello Special pizza for the two of them, and a Coke for himself. Fenway gave him the side-eye.

He raised the bottle. “Still on duty, officially.”

Fenway and the sheriff sat down at one of the smaller tables—smaller, even though it was still a fairly large picnic bench with a cheap red-and-white tablecloth.

“Are you still interested in the appointment?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Fenway put her hands flat on the table.

“Do you think you can supervise them?”

Fenway grinned. “Hell, why not? I’m a quick study. I’m sure there’s a ‘for Dummies’ book I can buy or something.” She lifted the beer to her lips.

“You haven’t read your dad’s book on management?”

She stopped mid-drink, then finished her swig before setting the pint glass back on the table.

“My father’s book on management,” she repeated, tasting her words.

“You do know your dad wrote a book on management, right? Pretty popular. Couple of business schools even teach it.”

Fenway smiled.

“No?”

“No.” Fenway tapped her fingers on the side of the pint glass. I guess neither of us know very much about what the other’s been up to. “Have you read it?”

“I bought a copy.”

They were both silent. Fenway turned sideways and propped her leg up on the bench. She could feel her calf and hamstrings stretch out. “You want me to investigate Mr. Walker’s homicide, don’t you?”

The sheriff exhaled loudly and sat back. He put his hands behind his head. Fenway noticed his soft eyes stare off into space for a minute. Finally, he nodded. “Everyone else has a conflict of interest.”

“Sure. Everyone who works for him.”

“Not just them,” McVie said, resting his arms on the table. “All of the crime scene techs, both here and in San Miguelito County, were working with Walker on something. Open case files, cause-of-death consults. Something in one of those case files could point to the killer.”

Fenway nodded. “Did he have any enemies?”

McVie hesitated. “That’s the problem. Everyone hated him. That’s why no one’s done any of the initial investigative work.”

“Like going through Walker’s office.”

“You noticed.”

Fenway nodded. “So you need someone to fingerprint the whole office. Check against inventory for missing files or equipment.” She put her leg down. “But I don’t know my way around the department.”

McVie folded his hands on the table. They looked strong, with thick fingers. The gold band was his only jewelry. “I’ll be working with you.”

“Don’t you have a conflict of interest too?”

“Yes. But I seemed to hate him less than everyone else. And I guess I have a reputation as someone who follows the rules.”

Fenway’s eyes dipped to his wedding ring and quickly popped back up.

A server appeared with their pizza.

Fenway and McVie reached for a slice at the same time. Their fingers touched. Fenway glanced in McVie’s eyes; a smile played at the corners of his mouth.

“All yours, Sheriff,” she said with a flourish of her hand.

“Oh, no, I insist.”

Fenway took a slice and put it on her plate. He took the next slice over.

“Why does everyone hate him?” Fenway asked.

McVie took a bite, but the pizza was hot, and he sucked in air to cool it. It looked painful but comical, and Fenway caught his eye and started to laugh.

“I’m trying to show you I’m down to earth,” McVie said through the mouthful of pizza.

Fenway shook her head, her curls moving side to side. She set the pizza down to let it cool and wiped her mouth with her napkin.

She had to be careful. He was boyishly charming, and if he did have a good reputation in the department, no one would think of him as the killer.

Not that she had seen anything to make her think he’d be a suspect. Still, the forensic classes were fresh in her mind. People loved to obfuscate the truth.

McVie swallowed with effort. “It’s pretty simple, really.” He took a sip of his drink. “He was a mean sonofabitch. Nasty. Told everyone they were doing everything wrong unless it was his idea.” He shook his head. “I probably shouldn’t say this, but I think he especially hated working with Dez and Miguel. He didn’t want to hire either of them, but there was a committee, and they were by far the most qualified.”

“Ah. Gotta be twice as good for half the respect.”

“Well.” McVie shifted in his seat but met Fenway’s eyes. “I wish that weren’t true, but in Walker’s case, it probably was.”

Fenway nodded.

“Oh, and I heard an earful when he found out Mark was gay.”

“The guy sounds like a prince.”

McVie nodded as he took another bite of pizza.

“Sheriff, let me ask you something.”

“Sure.”

“Everyone seems shocked that I’m black. Does my father not”—she hesitated and her breath hitched as she chose her words carefully—“talk about me?”

“Oh.” McVie looked up at the light fixture above the table.

“Wow. You’re figuring out how to tell me something I don’t want to hear.”

“It’s not that,” McVie said quickly. “He talks about you. But he doesn’t—I don’t know. No one gets a lot of details. I didn’t even know you were a nurse.” He started to take another bite. “Nurse practitioner.”

Fenway nodded. “Okay. I get it.”

McVie frowned. “I certainly don’t get it. It’s complicated, and Nathaniel Ferris keeps that part of his life to himself.”

“Fair enough,” Fenway said, her insides roiling. She touched her slice. It had cooled down enough to eat. “You think any of Walker’s employees had something to do with his murder?” she said before she took her first bite.

McVie shook his head. “Personally, no. But everyone who worked with Walker needs to be considered a suspect. At least until we establish more facts of the case.”

“So nothing’s been done? Two days and we’re starting from scratch?”

McVie nodded. “Pretty much. We got the Park Police to search the area around his car. I decided to start with the phone and financial records for the office to see if Walker was having an affair or skimming money.” He took a drink of his Coke. “The memorial service is Friday.”

Fenway wiped her hand on her napkin. “So I guess we’re doing this.”

“Yes.” McVie took the final bite of his slice and stared thoughtfully into space. “I expect some people won’t like it. They’ll say it’s nepotism, the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the county.”

“It is nepotism.”

McVie picked up a second slice and held it in the air a moment. “It’s a favor for your dad.”

“The Owner. And now he owes you one.”

He swallowed and wiped his fingers. “I don’t know what to tell you, Fenway. You’re the only person in a hundred-mile radius who didn’t hate Harrison Walker.”

Including you. Fenway nodded and grabbed another slice, watching McVie.