The Reluctant Coroner, Paul Austin Ardoin [comprehension books TXT] 📗

“Fenway.” Nathaniel Ferris’s arms were folded and his mouth was drawn tight. “You’re late.”

“Yes, Dad.” She walked up to Ferris and Stotsky. “You’ll have to forgive me. I was shot at this morning by the widow of Carl Cassidy.” She looked from her father’s face to Stotsky’s, watching for their reactions. “I understand Carl was one of the employees killed in the accident at the oil refinery six months ago. And I believe he was the subject of the missing file.”

Stotsky’s face registered determination.

Ferris’s face registered horror. “You were shot at?”

“Yes, Dad,” Fenway snapped. “Carl’s widow thought I was working with you to cover up her husband’s death. She thought I was behind the theft of the files. She accused me of killing Walker on Sunday night.”

Stotsky put his hand up. “Did she say that?”

“Yes, she did. Right before she pulled the trigger.” She suddenly noticed the interested glances of the cubicle dwellers. “Now, let’s go into the interview room before we broadcast this to the whole West Coast.”

Fenway motioned her father and Stotsky to go in the interview room ahead of her, and she followed them in, slamming the door behind herself. Her father jumped a little bit.

“I don’t want anyone in there watching us.” Stotsky pointed to the one-way mirror.

“Relax.” Fenway did a hand-wave in front of the mirror. “I didn’t tell anyone I was coming over here, and everyone is either dealing with the arrest of Dylan Richards, or the fact that someone tried to shoot me.” She turned toward the mirror and made silly faces. “See? No one’s there.”

She motioned for them to take a seat on the side of the table farthest away from the one-way mirror. She sat on the near side and pulled her chair in. It made a grinding noise on the floor.

Fenway cleared her throat. “Now, tell me, Dad, why in the world would anyone think there was a cover up with the accident? And why would they think I was involved?”

Nathaniel Ferris looked at Stotsky’s face and started to mirror the look of steely determination in his own. “I promise, Fenway, I’ll get to the bottom of this. You aren’t going to have to worry about your safety.”

“No, Dad.” She shook her head. “You are not going to get to the bottom of anything. You are not investigating Walker’s homicide. I am. You’re not figuring out what those files have to do with Walker’s death. I am.”

Fenway looked at Stotsky. His eyes were thin slits. His mouth was pursed. His face was getting red with anger.

“What is it, Mr. Stotsky? Do you have any knowledge about these files? Is there anything you might have mentioned to me yesterday morning that would have lowered my chances of getting shot today?”

“Come on now, Fenway.” Ferris’s voice was chiding.

“What, Dad? What is it? I shouldn’t get angry that people all over this county think you’re covering something up?” Fenway folded her arms. “And worse, they think I had something to do with the missing files. I didn’t think you were covering anything up before, Dad. I’m starting to think maybe I was wrong.”

Fenway wasn’t sure this line of questioning was doing a lot for father-daughter relations, but she noticed Stotsky was getting angrier by the second.

“Mr. Ferris.” Stotsky stood and gathered himself up to his full height. Fenway thought for a minute he was going to hit his head on the ceiling. “I believe we ought to head out of here before Miss Stevenson says something she regrets.”

“Nonsense, Rob. Sit down. Fenway has every right. She was shot at today.”

Stotsky turned to face Ferris, his back to Fenway. “And perhaps it’s making her overly emotional. Now, Mr. Ferris, I know she is your only daughter. Her life was just put in danger. I understand you might be so concerned for her safety you feel, shall we say, more open to discussing things of a confidential nature if you think it’s going to keep her safe. But, as your head of security, I’m obligated to point out these files should not be discussed with anyone outside of the company.” He cleared his throat. “If Miss Stevenson wishes to file a court order, or get a subpoena, we’d be happy to supply our findings, but absent that, I can’t allow you to discuss the contents of those files.”

Ferris looked at Stotsky, and his eyes flashed in anger for a moment, but then he softened. “Rob is right, Fenway. Were you hurt? Are you okay?”

Fenway looked at her father, and in that instant, saw the concern and caring she had missed her whole childhood. She found it hard to maintain her cool. Not only because she really wasn’t okay, but because she also didn’t have anyone to turn to in town for support.

But Fenway also really wanted, and needed, to discuss those files. And perhaps, Fenway thought, letting herself be vulnerable right now would work to her advantage. Maybe she didn’t have to push down those emotions. If she played it right, maybe their dinner together tonight would be the right time to get some information on the contents of the files, without the head of Ferris security looming over their conversation.

So Fenway gave into her vulnerability.

“No, Dad, I’m not okay.” Her voice broke. “I’m not even on the job twenty-four hours, and I got shot at! I’m scared. And I’m furious at you for not telling me about these files. I’m furious at you because if I had known about the files, I would have known why she was so angry with me. I could have talked her down.”

“I’m sorry, Fenway. I’m really sorry.” He stood up, came around the side of the table, and gave her an awkward hug while she was still sitting down. She could feel the hot tears start to sting her eyes and she let them fall.

Stotsky tapped his fingers on the table. “Perhaps there will be another opportunity for a more productive discussion at a later time.”

Ferris looked at Stotsky, then shifted his eyes to her. “Fenway—look, we were planning on dinner tonight. Let’s have dinner. You can talk about how angry you are at me, and I’m sure it’s not—” Ferris stopped and cleared his throat. “It’s not just because of the files. I’m sure there’s a lot from the last twenty years, too. I wasn’t a good father. Let’s just have dinner tonight.”

Fenway looked down at the table. “Okay.”

Ferris went back around and clapped Stotsky on the shoulder. “Okay?”

Stotsky moved to open the door. Ferris went out first, Stotsky following.

Fenway pulled the phone out of her purse, sniffling, but getting under control. She started to text Dez that she was heading back over.

The door opened again. It was Rob Stotsky.

“Forgot my pen.” He saw Fenway texting and closed the door behind him. He leaned forward, placing his fists knuckles-down on the table; the table groaned slightly under his weight. “I need to have a chat with you, Miss Stevenson.” She looked up at him. His determined look hadn’t faded, and she couldn’t help but think he looked much the opposite of the helpful man she had first met when she pulled into her new apartment complex. “You haven’t lived here in twenty years, but you’re messing with the reputation of the most powerful man in the area—maybe even the state. And it’s my job to protect him. You can’t accuse Mr. Ferris without proof. The innuendo and leading questions might be one of your investigative techniques, and you might be able to get away with it with him because he’s your father, but they don’t do any good to his reputation or his business.”

Stotsky stood back up and straightened his suit jacket. “You’re his daughter, so of course he wants to protect you, and this coroner job was a way he felt he could help.” He cracked his knuckles. “Now, you may think you’re just doing your job, but I’d advise you to take another route in your investigation. Otherwise, you may find you’ve killed the goose laying your golden eggs.” He adjusted his tie and walked back out.

Fenway sat there for a moment, taking it all in. The blood was pounding in her ears, and her heart was racing. Any tears of sadness or self-pity were gone. She took a few deep breaths.

The door opened again, and Sheriff McVie walked in. He nodded at her. “That was pretty impressive.”

“Stop.” She was still looking down at the table. “I didn’t think anyone was watching.”

“Ah, Fenway, someone’s always watching.”

She was silent.

“I’m not being snarky when I say what you did was impressive. Using your vulnerability to not only get your dad to open up, but also to push Stotsky’s buttons. Coming across as genuine, because it was genuine. That was hard to do. And admirable.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“I talked to Dez, and if it’s okay with you, I’m going to drive you to San Miguelito to see the M.E.”

Fenway shook her head. “I’m sorry, but can we maybe push it to tomorrow? This