The Reluctant Coroner, Paul Austin Ardoin [comprehension books TXT] 📗
- Author: Paul Austin Ardoin
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“We’ve got people at the front desk who’ll do that,” McVie said from behind her. She jumped a little at his voice and turned around. He and Dylan were standing next to each other.
She smiled at McVie. “Okay. Maybe one of them could bring Rachel and me a couple of mugs when it’s finished.”
“Why don’t you come on back to the interview room? I’ve got some questions for Dylan, and you might want to sit in.”
McVie left Fenway with Dylan for a moment while he went to find the officer on duty to bring the coffee when it was ready.
Dylan looked down at the floor, then looked at Fenway and pointed at her cap. “Red Sox fan?”
“My father is.” She smiled back.
“My brother and I drove across the country one summer during college,” he said. “We tried to hit as many major league parks as we could. We drove south first, then over to Phoenix, through Texas, then up through Missouri to Chicago and Milwaukee. But it was taking too long, so we turned around.” He sighed. “I still haven’t seen Fenway Park.” He pointed at her. “Your dad named you after the ballpark? It’s not some crazy family name?”
“Family name?”
“Sure, why not? A combination of your great-uncle Fenwick and your third cousin Hemingway?”
Fenway surprised herself by laughing. “I’m going to have to make that my story from now on,” she said. “That’s a lot more interesting than the Red Sox jokes I’ve heard all my life.”
McVie came back. “Ready?”
She nodded. As Dylan walked into the interview room, she pulled McVie aside. “Are you sure you want to talk with them together? Rachel knows police procedure and rules a lot better than most people. She’ll stop him from saying anything incriminating.”
“I know,” whispered McVie. “But it’s not about their answers. I want to keep them here for another couple of hours at least, and I thought if I kept them apart, they’d insist on leaving. We woke up a judge for a warrant to search Dylan’s place. They’re on their way to execute it right now.”
“You know you’re going to find that USB drive with that video of Walker attacking Rachel.”
“I know.”
“But she says he didn’t see it.”
“Look, if it turns out he did do it, this goes to motive, and we have to have that USB drive in our custody. Besides, I was hoping you would be talking with Rachel separately when I was gone, and we can see if there are holes in their story.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Fenway said. “I’ve got her alibi for both Sunday night and early this morning. She was with Dylan at home asleep this morning, and she was with a friend at a movie and Krazy Burgers on Sunday.”
“She wasn’t with Dylan Sunday?”
“She was asleep when he got home.”
“All right, let’s see what he says.”
They went in.
“Okay, Dylan,” McVie said. “Now that we’ve gotten your stolen vehicle report filed, let’s talk about where you were a couple nights this week.”
Dylan leaned back in his chair. “I already told you, I was asleep at home. Rachel and I went to bed around eleven. And you saw the report for my stolen truck—we got back from the grocery store at about six thirty, we left the truck in my spot, and I haven’t seen my truck since.”
“How about Sunday night?” Fenway asked.
Dylan’s face darkened, and he looked from Fenway to McVie. “Sunday night? Where did you see my truck Sunday night?”
Rachel leaned over to Dylan and spoke softly. “They aren’t asking about your truck. They want to know where you were when Mr. Walker got shot and killed.”
Dylan balked. “Why would I kill Walker? Because he was a shitty boss to Rachel?”
Fenway looked at Rachel, who frowned and quickly shook her head, as if to quiet Dylan. McVie saw it, too. Fenway wasn’t sure McVie was going to let it go; he might dig into this line of questioning to see if it would push Dylan’s buttons. But he didn’t, to Fenway’s surprise.
“Because your truck was caught on camera, leaving the scene of a break-in at Walker’s office barely two hours ago.” McVie raised his voice slightly. “And we’re working under the assumption the break-in and the murder are related.”
Dylan had a confused look on his face. “But my truck was stolen.”
“Right, you’ve told me.” McVie stood up and leaned on the table, looking Dylan in the eyes. “But there are lots of situations where a husband has done something stupid because of his wife. Maybe Walker was a shitty boss to Rachel. Maybe he was hitting on her and you didn’t like it. Maybe she was going to get fired. Maybe she was stealing paper clips, and her boss found out, and so you took him out to the woods, or followed him out there, and killed him. And maybe her stealing paper clips was in Walker’s files, so you had to take that, too.”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “You don’t have any proof.”
McVie straightened up and sighed. “Right. All we have to go on is video evidence of Dylan’s pickup truck, smashing through the wall of Walker’s office, and leaving with a file drawer.”
Dylan shook his head. “You’re crazy. Smashing through the wall? In my truck?”
“Dylan loves that truck.” Rachel put her hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “He’d never even park it under a tree if he thought a bird would crap on it, never mind purposely smashing it through a wall.”
Dylan looked from Rachel, to Fenway, then to McVie. “I swear it wasn’t me driving.”
Rachel shrugged. “He wouldn’t hurt that truck. Plus, we were together, in bed, asleep, two hours ago.”
McVie sat back down. “Okay, so you’ve said that’s where you were tonight. How about Sunday night? You still haven’t answered. Where were you on Sunday night between eight o’clock and eleven?”
Dylan hesitated, but then leaned back in his chair again and grinned. “I was playing video games with Parker. I got out of there about eleven thirty. I had to work Monday morning.”
“What’s Parker’s last name?” McVie asked.
“Richards,” Rachel said. “Parker is Dylan’s brother.”
“Did Parker have to work on Monday morning, too?”
Dylan laughed. “No, Parker’s a cook at Villa Roma over in Paso Q. They’re closed Mondays.”
McVie leaned forward. “What video games did you play?”
“Um, I don’t remember.”
“You don’t remember? You were playing against your brother and don’t remember what you were playing?”
“We usually play Rogue Nation 3.” Dylan swallowed. “I had a deadline at work this week. I was kind of distracted with that. I wasn’t really paying attention too much.”
“Oh, yeah.” McVie nodded. “I get that, being distracted by work stuff. That happens to me all the time.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “My wife gets all over my ass when that happens. She hates it when I get distracted by work stuff.”
Dylan laughed a little. “Yeah, Parker was kinda ticked off that I was distracted. I wasn’t playing my best.”
“How do you know you weren’t playing your best if you don’t remember what you were playing?”
Dylan paused, his cool smile frozen on his face. “Because I remember Parker said I wasn’t even trying. He called me names.”
“Like what?”
“You know,” he trailed off, shrugging, “names.”
McVie sat back. “How about dinner?”
“Dinner?”
“Yeah, did you and Parker have dinner? I mean, sometimes people are so into their video games they just order a pizza.”
“Oh, right, yeah, we ordered a pizza.” A bead of sweat was on Dylan’s brow, even though it was cold in the room.
“What time did the delivery guy show up?”
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe seven?”
“Where did you order from?”
“Oh, uh, I’m not sure. One of the chain places, I think.”
Fenway looked at Rachel, whose mouth was pursed; she didn’t look like she was buying it. Fenway didn’t need to remember her notes from her witness interview class to tell Dylan was lying.
She stood up. “Hey, Rachel, let’s go see what’s taking the coffee so long.”
McVie looked at her and Fenway looked plaintively at him. She was sure if she could tell Dylan was lying, so could McVie. Even if McVie’s original plan was to keep the two of them together, Fenway
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