The Reluctant Coroner by Paul Austin Ardoin (distant reading txt) 📖

“You don’t like country?”

McVie shrugged. “Hard not to hear it around here, but it’s not really my thing.”

“Amy—is that your wife?”

“Oh—yeah. It’ll be eighteen years in June. She runs a real estate firm. Pretty successful one, at that.”

Fenway nodded. McVie’s tone was flat—did a happy man talk about his wife that way?

Something behind Fenway caught McVie’s eye, and he flashed a look of recognition. She turned her head. Her father was coming into the lobby, taking off his sunglasses. The dark brown hair she remembered had changed to salt and pepper, and he had laugh lines around his eyes. Other than that, he didn’t look much different from when her mother had taken her away from Estancia twenty years before.

Nathaniel Ferris had on a stylish and expensive-looking gray suit—the color identical to Fenway’s skirt and blazer. His navy blue dress shirt, open at the collar and without a tie, matched the dark blue tank Fenway wore.

He was followed by a tall, heavyset man in a dark suit, white shirt, and a dark gray tie, the pair reminding Fenway of a Mafioso and his bodyguard. The bodyguard looked familiar. She turned back toward McVie.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Fenway closed her eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. She turned around to face her father.

“Hi, Dad!” Her voice went up half an octave, and, she hoped, was enthusiastic and warm.

“Fenway!” Ferris opened his arms wide.

She stepped next to him and turned her shoulder, giving him a side hug.

“Sorry I haven’t seen you since you arrived.”

“It’s okay, Dad.” She stepped away from him and grinned. “I know how busy you are with work. Hey!” She pointed at his suit. “I see you got my message on what to wear today. We still doing the hip-hop dance routine for the board of supervisors?”

Confusion came over Ferris’s face until he realized she was joking about their matching outfits. Then he laughed.

“See, Rob?” Nathaniel Ferris turned to the giant next to him, and Fenway suddenly recognized her apartment building manager from Monday night. “I told you Fenway was something else. Fenway, you remember Rob Stotsky from the night you drove in.”

Rob Stotsky put out his large hand and Fenway shook it as firmly as she could.

“Good to see you again,” he said.

“Absolutely,” Fenway said. “When you said you worked with my father, I didn’t realize it was this closely.”

“All of my building managers report up into Rob’s team,” Ferris said. “He runs Ferris Energy’s security department.”

“The apartment building managers report into corporate security?”

“Safety is half their job,” Stotsky said. “Camera maintenance, gates, changing door locks, making sure cars don’t get broken into.”

“If people don’t feel secure, they rent somewhere else,” Ferris said. “Rob and I have a meeting downtown in about half an hour, and I thought I’d come here and see you. The board is gonna love you.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She felt Ferris put his arm around her back. The smile she had plastered on was taking more effort than she thought. “I want to say thank you for getting me into the apartment.” She stepped out from under his arm. “And I know we need to catch up.”

His eyes softened. “Happy to do it, and yes, I’d love to catch up. Are you free for dinner?”

“Sure. Dinner.”

He smiled broadly, then clapped his hands together. “Okay, I’ve got to get to my meeting.” He put his sunglasses back on, patted Rob Stotsky on the shoulder, and turned to go out the same way he came in. Stotsky followed him out the door.

Fenway exhaled. Her heart was racing. She hoped it didn’t show.

McVie was looking at her with an unusual gleam in his eye. “Who was that?”

“Who was what? You know my father. Don’t you know his head of security too?”

“No, I wasn’t talking about them. I was talking about you. You transformed into a different person.”

“Please.” Fenway rolled her eyes. “You of all people should know how my father wants people to deal with him.”

“Yes, I do. You’re going to do just fine.”

“So, is that what you were worried about, pacing all over the place? My father coming in to ‘support’ me?”

He hesitated. “Yes. I told him if he wanted to see you, to do it after the board of supervisors meeting.”

She cocked her head. “This is one of those things you should have told me, Sheriff. I need to know if my father is planning to see me. He has very different expectations of me than I have of myself.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

“That’s twice in twelve hours, Sheriff. You sure there’s nothing else I need to know before I volunteer as tribute?”

Just then, the doors to the council chamber opened.

“Nothing else,” McVie said. “I swear.”

Fenway followed McVie inside. All five councilmembers were seated, looking down at her from the dais. At the front table, a plastic nameplate read “Sheriff Craig McVie” in embossed block letters, and next to that, a paper nameplate read “Fennway Stevenson,” fresh off an inkjet printer.

Two of the supervisors gave a start when Fenway took the seat behind her nameplate. For twenty years she hadn’t had to deal with that reaction, but in the last few days she had seen it from Stotsky, McVie, Dez, and now a couple of the county supervisors. How did so many people in town not know?

She grinned at the five supervisors. “Wow, aren’t there any Red Sox fans here? Fenway only has one N.” She chuckled lightly. The mayor, Alice Jenkins, gave her a wan smile. The thin man behind the “Dr. Barry Klein” nameplate narrowed his eyes at her and frowned.

The mayor called the special session to order and gave the floor to the sheriff. He read legalese from a set of papers in front of him, announcing his intent to appoint Fenway Stevenson in the position of county coroner until the next election.

“Thank you, Sheriff,” Mayor Jenkins said. “Questions for Miss Stevenson?”

Barry Klein raised his hand.

The mayor looked at the other supervisors, then nodded. “Very well. Dr. Klein has the floor.”

He pulled his microphone closer with a loud scratching sound. “Good morning, Miss Ferris.”

Fenway paused. Oh. So that’s how he was going to play this—openly hostile from the get-go. “It’s Miss Stevenson. Good morning, Dr. Klein.”

He paused for a moment and pushed his glasses up. “You have an interesting résumé.”

Fenway looked at Dr. Klein expectantly.

“You went to junior college for two years,” he continued. “Were your grades not sufficient to get into a four-year university out of high school?”

“Here we go,” McVie muttered.

“My bank balance wasn’t sufficient,” Fenway replied. “I saved quite a bit of money by going to Cascades for two years.”

“I see,” Dr. Klein said. He turned the papers over. There was no other sound in the large room. “You’ll have to forgive me,” he finally said. “I confess I’m not familiar with Western Washington.”

“It’s a top-fifty BSN program,” Fenway said. “Go Vikings.”

He looked up. “I’m sorry?”

Fenway cleared her throat. “I said, ‘Go Vikings.’ The Western mascot.”

“Ah,” he said. “How did you do while you were there?”

“At Western? Top in my class. I gave the valedictorian speech at graduation.”

“Hm.” Dr. Klein flipped two pages.

“And now you’re at Seattle University.”

“Yes. Completing my master’s degree in forensics.”

“So you haven’t finished the program.”

“One more class. I start next week.”

“Isn’t your class in Seattle?”

“They have an online option for this class,” Fenway said. She had been unsure about Dr. Klein’s tone at first, but now she sensed he was fishing.

“To be honest, Miss Stevenson, I’m a bit concerned you haven’t completed your degree yet. And I don’t have a lot of confidence in online universities.”

“Seattle University is a regular university, Barry,” Alice Jenkins said. “Miss Stevenson said she’s taking a single class online. There’s a big difference.”

“I’m not sure it’s a difference that matters—if they offer classes on the web, they’re an online university in my book.”

Fenway took a deep breath. “Can I ask, is an advanced forensics degree a requirement for the position? Have the previous two coroners had one?” Fenway knew from her research the night before the answer was no—Harrison Walker had been an EMT before running for coroner. The previous coroner had been a monitor transport technician at Cottage Hospital in Santa Barbara. Before that, the position had been combined with the sheriff’s office.

Dr. Klein shifted uncomfortably. “We’re not talking about the previous two coroners. We’re talking about you.”

“Then let me be clear. An advanced forensics degree hasn’t been required for anyone else, and it shouldn’t be required for me.”

“That judgment isn’t up to you, Miss Ferris.”

“My last name is Stevenson,” Fenway said.

“Don’t try to pretend you’re someone you’re not,” Klein growled. “You’re Nathaniel Ferris’s daughter, and I’m insulted that you’re trying to hide that fact from the supervisors.”

“Barry,” Mayor Jenkins said sharply.

Klein ignored