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

The teenaged girl who opened the door was a pretty blonde with alabaster skin, and a smattering of freckles, like her father. She wore light blue cotton shorts that were quite short, with a navy tank top with her bra straps showing a little.

“Hi Megan, I’m Sergeant Roubideaux. We’ve met a couple of times before. I work with your dad.” Dez motioned to Fenway. “And this is my colleague, Miss Stevenson.”

Fenway gave a small awkward wave and smile.

“Sorry for bothering you at home,” Dez continued, “but we need to ask you a couple of questions.”

“I got sick at school and came home.” Megan offered, eyeing them warily.

“Okay,” Dez said.

“Did Dad send you here to check up on me? I’m not skipping school.”

“We don’t really care about any of that,” Fenway said. “We just have a couple of questions.”

“You recognize this man?” Dez pulled the photo of Dylan out of the folder and handed it to Megan.

Megan glanced down at the photo, then looked up at them, trying to read their faces. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Dez looked at Fenway, then back at Megan. “No, it’s not a joke. This man has been seen on your street regularly, and we have a witness who has him going inside your house on more than one occasion.”

“You mean whenever my dad’s not home?” Megan snapped.

“Well,” Dez said carefully, “we haven’t put the timeline together, but yeah, we’re pretty sure he comes over when your parents aren’t home.”

Megan looked from Dez’s face to Fenway’s face then back to Dez’s face. Then she blanched. “Ugh. Eww. You think he’s having sex with me?”

Dez nodded slowly.

“He’s banging my mom,” Megan sneered. “My mom doesn’t think I notice, because I’m in my room all the time, and they stay in the back of the house. But of course I notice. I think she used to do it only when I was at volleyball practice, or at a game. I’d find—stuff—in the trash can of the guest bathroom.” She shuddered a little. “And then when the season ended, she kept trying to get me to go out for other sports. But then when my dad works late, or is on a business trip, that guy comes over.”

Dez nodded again. She looked a little pained.

“I don’t think my dad knows. And frankly, Mom is too busy with her new boyfriend to really pay attention to me having my boyfriend over, so I guess it has its benefits.” She shrugged. “But eww, he is not with me. He’s so old.”

“Wow, that’s a relief!” Fenway burst out, following it up with a small laugh. Megan looked at her, surprised.

“I’m sorry,” Fenway caught herself and stopped her laugh short. “It’s not funny. I mean, relief is the wrong word. We were so convinced he was, uh, with you. I don’t know why it never occurred to us your mom would be home. Or that, you know, she was the one who was with him.”

Dez put her hand on Fenway’s shoulder and looked at her with a serious face. Fenway stopped rambling. Dez turned back to Megan. “Was he, uh, visiting your mom here on Sunday night?”

Megan shrugged. “I was out on Sunday night. My boyfriend and I were studying in the afternoon, and then we got some dinner and we went to a movie. I didn’t get back here until after midnight.”

“On a school night?”

“It’s not like my mom cared.”

Dez cleared her throat. “Did you notice a big black pickup truck parked on the street when you got home?”

“Nope.”

“No, it wasn’t there, or no, you didn’t notice?

“I was paying attention to whether or not my mom was going to hear me coming in late.”

“Did she?”

“Nope. I snuck in and she didn’t notice a thing.”

Fenway nodded. “Okay. Anything else, Sergeant?”

Dez shook her head. “We’ll let you get back to…whatever you’re doing.”

“Don’t tell my mom I know.” Megan’s eyes were wide. “I don’t want to deal with any kind of serious talks from her.”

“Okay,” Fenway agreed.

She turned away and started inside, then quickly turned back. “Don’t tell my dad either. He’d freak.”

Dez nodded. “Thanks for speaking with us, Megan.”

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

“That was crazy,” Fenway said, turning with Dez to walk back to the car.

“This is all kinds of messed up.”

“Looks like we’ve got ourselves a cougar.” She let out another small giggle.

Dez shot her a sharp look. “That’s not funny.”

Fenway stopped giggling. They were silent as they crossed the street to Dez’s car.

“All right, what are we going to do?” Fenway asked. “This is material, isn’t it? The guy the sheriff locked up for Walker’s murder might have been at the sheriff’s house that night, having relations with his wife.”

“Don’t call it relations, Fenway.” Dez’s face scrunched up. “It sounds like you’re in a damn Jane Austen movie.”

“Whatever. A booty call.”

Dez ignored Fenway’s comment. “The stuff you said earlier about revenge is sounding kind of dangerous now.”

“I know, right? Maybe the sheriff did know about Dylan and his wife.”

They got in the car. They sat for a minute, Dez not starting the engine.

“You okay, Dez?”

“I don’t know, Fenway. This feels weird. Parts of this feel really planned out—like someone was trying to get rid of Walker for a long time—and then parts of it feel like a crime of passion. Shooting someone in the back. Making Walker’s car disappear. The incredibly audacious smash-and-grab. It’s weird.”

“There’s something here we’re not seeing.”

“Maybe it’s time to talk to some folks at The Own—uh, your daddy’s company. Usually, when there’s some convoluted shit going on, Ferris Energy is in the middle of it.”

“And my father knew a lot more than he’s letting on. He knew the files were missing because someone took them last night. Not that they might have been misfiled, or that someone might have checked them out. Or that they could have been stolen a while ago. And he knew the whole file drawer was missing, not just a couple of files.”

“He’s coming to the office later?”

“Yeah,” Fenway nodded. “I managed to convince him this looks bad, that his files are missing, and to come in and give a statement. He said he’ll come in right before lunch.”

“We’ve got a couple of hours before that happens,” Dez sighed as she started the car.

When they got back to the office, Migs was at his desk.

Dez set her notebook on her desk. “Migs, have you seen Mark this morning?”

“Yeah, he was in for a few minutes. We got the message from the sheriff we can all work on the case now. Mark called San Miguelito because the autopsy results still aren’t here, if you can believe it. The M.E. wanted to talk to either the coroner or the sheriff—didn’t want to courier the results. She asked for you too, Dez.” Migs shrugged. “I think Mark left McVie a message. And then he got a call from the LAX airport police—they found Walker’s car in one of the private long-term lots by the airport. He decided to drive down there to see it for himself.”

“LAX long-term parking, huh,” Fenway muttered. “Wonder where that idea came from.”

Dez sat at her desk. “Walker’s car. Big break.”

“I wonder if his laptop will be in there.”

“We can hope.”

“Hey Migs,” Fenway said, “can you get a file off Rachel’s machine?”

Migs looked quizzically at her. “I guess so, but why don’t you ask her? She should be in any minute now.”

Fenway shook her head. “I don’t think she’s coming in today.”

“Why? Did she call in sick or something?”

“Something like that.”

Migs frowned. “Yeah, I’ve got the admin passwords. I think I can get into her machine.” He walked over to Rachel’s computer and leaned down over the keyboard, but froze before he touched it.

“How long has that light been on?” Migs’ eyes were wide.

“What light?”

“The light on the camera, right there.” Migs pointed to the webcam perched on top of the monitor.

“I don’t know. Can we get the file off the machine, or not?”

Migs knocked the camera off the monitor. He grabbed at the camera’s cord going into the back of the machine and yanked it out. Then he pulled out the PC’s power cord, too.

“Hey!” Fenway yelled. “What are you doing? I need to get that file.”

“Not now you don’t.” Migs hurriedly pulled all the cords out of the back of the computer. “I’m going to take this over to IT right now. Like, right now. I think someone’s been spying on us.”

“What?”

Migs looked over his shoulder at her. “That camera was on, Fenway. The computer looked like it should have been