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

voice, “but I’m required to stay.”

Dez looked shocked. “For real?”

“Yes, ma’am. Protocol.”

Dez tapped her temple as the answer came to her. “Ah. You’re new, aren’t you? You and Fenway are probably the only two people in the whole City Hall complex who don’t have a file in there.”

“That’s what my boss told me, ma’am.”

“Awesome,” Fenway said. “Officer, do you have a cell phone that can video this?”

“I have a personal cell phone, but it’s not to be used for police business.”

“Righty-oh,” Fenway said, snapping the wrists of her gloves. “I’ll get down to work.”

“Okay,” Dez said. “Let me know if you need anything.” She nodded to the deputy and went to her desk.

Fenway surveyed the room. The massive desk took up much of the space, but the side wall contained four filing cabinets. Maybe she should concentrate her search there. But how could she tell if files were missing or had been tampered with? She stepped around the desk and tried to open the top drawer of the leftmost cabinet.

Locked.

So were all the others.

She carefully took pictures with her cell phone. No suspicious marks on any of the cabinets. She looked closely at the door jamb and found nothing.

“I don’t think anyone’s been in this room since Walker,” Fenway whispered.

She dropped to her knees, the grid method of evidence search pinging in her head, and methodically scoured the entire floor for hairs, or fibers, or anything unusual or out of place.

The grid method might be effective, but with just one person performing the search, it took a long time. Fenway’s knees ached before she was even halfway done with the floor. Huh. Maybe ma’am was appropriate after all.

In spite of the cool air in Walker’s office, she grew warm. The carpet fibers were short but thick, and she had to work hard with her fingers to make sure she didn’t miss anything.

But she found nothing.

She stood and stretched, looking out the window. Not much of a view—just a parking lot—but it sure beat the windowless clinic.

She moved to the desk next. A large paper calendar served as a desk topper, and a keyboard and mouse were in front of the monitor stand, under which a laptop docking station sat.

The dock was empty.

“Anyone know where his laptop is?” she called out.

“I haven’t heard,” Migs said.

She looked up to see Migs leaning against the door jamb, watching her work. The deputy still stood in front of the door stoically.

“How long have you been standing there?”

“Not that long,” said Migs. “I’ve never seen a room searched for evidence before.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve never searched a room for evidence either. Maybe we’ll both learn something.” She nodded at him. “You make sure everything we do is legal, right?”

“Right.”

“Let me know if I’m doing anything questionable.”

“Sure.”

She searched the bookcase behind Walker’s leather chair. A few old tomes on case law, a couple of medical books, an old anatomy textbook.

“Have you heard an update on Walker’s car?”

“No,” Migs said.

“Have any idea what he was doing out in the middle of nowhere so late at night?”

“Probably drowning puppies or eating babies,” Migs said. “Do you maybe want to fingerprint the docking station in case someone stole the laptop out of it?”

Fenway nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good idea. Thanks, Migs.”

Migs had been holding the fingerprint kit and now handed it to her through the doorway.

She dusted and lifted on the dock first, then used the grid method on the top of the desk and the bookcase. She hesitated before brushing the dust on the door handle, spilling some of the fine dark-gray powder on the floor. It took longer than she expected, and it didn’t help to have Migs staring at her hands the entire time.

She finally put the last of the fingerprint tape on a card and sealed it in an evidence bag.

“That stuff really gets everywhere.” Migs motioned with his head to the desk. “Think you’ll find something on the docking station?”

Fenway shook her head. “No full prints from the dock. Two partials—that was it.” She looked at the empty dock and squinted. “Do you know if Walker usually left his laptop here? Or did he take it home?”

“We’re not supposed to leave laptops here, but he left it here some nights. I didn’t keep track, though.”

Fenway sighed. “You see anywhere I missed?”

“The drawer handles of the filing cabinets?”

“Good catch. Hey, do you know where the keys to those cabinets are?”

The deputy piped up. “They’re in the evidence room.”

Fenway turned to the deputy. “Can you go get them?”

“You’ll have to leave the room and I’ll have to lock up again, ma’am.”

Fenway’s shoulders slumped. “Can someone else get the keys from the evidence room?”

“My lieutenant was pretty clear I was responsible for everything pertaining to this office, ma’am.”

Fenway felt a stabbing pain with every ma’am. “Okay, fine.” She looked at her cell phone. “Have I really been doing this for two hours?”

“Two and a half, ma’am.”

She set her jaw. “Can you meet me back here at a quarter after five? I’ll have to tell the sheriff I’m staying late tonight.”

“Um…” the deputy began.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am, but, uh, I don’t report to you. Only my supervisor can authorize overtime, and I’ll hit eight hours at five o’clock.”

Fenway folded her arms and weighed her options. She couldn’t afford to lose any more time in this investigation, but she didn’t want to get into a pissing match with another department.

She sighed. “No one expected me to get started today, I guess. Yeah, let’s pack it up for the day.” But she’d found nothing. No calendar. No secret meeting appointments. No messages or letters. A bunch of fingerprints, but people were in and out all day long.

“Can you meet me here tomorrow at eight o’clock with the keys for both the door and the file cabinets, and whatever other keys you have for any locks inside the office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smiled at him. “Perfect.”

Migs and the deputy took a few steps back as Fenway ducked under the police tape and exited the office. The deputy locked the door. “Thank you, ma’am. Eight o’clock tomorrow morning.” He nodded stiffly and left the suite.

Fenway took her gloves off and leaned against the front counter, chin resting in her hand.

Migs and Dez packed up and were out the door just after five o’clock.

Dez handed Fenway the folder with the steps for the homicide investigation. “Study up,” she said, a twinkle in her eye. “There’s a practical exam tomorrow.”

Mark nodded at her as he left. “Good first day?”

She glanced up at him and smiled. “Mostly. Probably the most interesting first day I’ve ever had.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Fenway looked at Rachel. “You getting out of here too?”

“Yeah.” Rachel blushed. “I got in a little late today. I’m staying for a few more minutes.”

At a quarter after the hour, McVie walked in. “So, Coroner, how was your first day?”

“Fine,” she said, walking into the conference room and grabbing her purse and laptop bag. “Got an old laptop with a broken escape key.”

“‘Hell is other people,’” Rachel said dryly.

McVie laughed. “Ready to go?”

“Hey,” Rachel said, “how come McVie is giving you a ride home?”

“I sold my car in Seattle. I was going to buy one here, but, uh, I’ve been a little busy.” Fenway looped the laptop bag’s strap over her shoulder as McVie held the door open. “Have a good night.”

They walked to the parking garage. “Any revelations about the case?” McVie asked.

“Not yet. I fingerprinted Walker’s office. Took a while.”

“Police work is mostly repetitive motion alternating with long periods of waiting.”

“I wonder why they never show that on TV.”

The fog started to roll in, and although it was still light, the breeze off the ocean picked up. McVie shivered.

“Did Lana take care of you?”

She looked at McVie. She wondered if Lana had ever said a bad word to him. Would he even believe how rude Lana had been? “I got through all the paperwork and handbooks.” She cleared her throat. “Walker’s work laptop is missing.”

“It wasn’t in his office?”

“Not unless he locked it in a drawer or a file cabinet. I don’t have the keys yet. They’re bringing them tomorrow morning.”

“What, you didn’t put in any overtime on your first day? Man, don’t let Klein hear about this.” He chuckled.

She frowned. She didn’t want to tell McVie about her conversation with Klein. They started up the parking garage stairs. “That laptop might be important. It