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

Migs was waiting for them at the entrance of the parking garage when they drove in. Fenway saw him and rolled down her window.

He rushed over, holding his tie down with one hand. “Bradley is back. I asked them to wait for you before they started. Mark is taking lead on it—I don’t know if they’ve started or not.”

“Crap. Migs, can you park the car?”

“Aw, Fenway, you gonna let that kid park your brand-new car?”

“Yes, Dez, I am. Now get out and let’s get over there before they start without us.”

They grabbed their purses, got out of the car, and started to hurry across the street. Dez, in her street shoes, easily passed Fenway in her high heels.

Fenway got over to the interview room to find the door closed. The observation room door was unlocked, though. Fenway opened it and found Dez and Sheriff McVie in there with two officers she didn’t recognize. They all were looking through the one-way mirror into the interview room, watching Mark and the officer to whom she had given her moving truck’s keys, Officer Callahan.

“Why aren’t you in there asking him the questions?” Fenway whispered to McVie.

“Because Callahan really gets on Bradley’s nerves. He’s had to fix Callahan’s computer a couple of times and got so frustrated with Callahan they almost got into a fistfight. So, we’re hoping for some of that unhinged magic to pry loose who Bradley is getting money from.” He reached forward to the wall and turned up the speaker a little so they could hear more clearly.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” Bradley was saying. “I knew I’d have to deal with your stupid questions yesterday,” he nodded to Callahan, “and I was like, screw it, I’m going to Vegas. Let Piper kiss up to you, Callahan. I didn’t call in, I know, but I figured you wouldn’t fire me since I’m the only one who knows how to close down ports on the firewall.”

“Sure, I understand. But here’s the thing, Bradley.” Mark reached down next to him and pulled up several reports. “You may be the only one to deal with the firewall, but you’re not the only who can run reports on it. And it looks to me like you’ve opened up some holes in the firewall you shouldn’t have. It looks to me like you’ve been letting someone use their remote access virus—”

“Hang on, Sergeant.” Callahan held up his hand. “I think Bradley would want you to call that type of malware a Trojan horse. Technically, it’s not a virus.” He turned to Bradley. “Am I correct? This is a Trojan horse, not a virus, right?”

Bradley sneered and looked at the floor.

“Please continue, Sergeant.”

“Thanks, Callahan. At any rate, whatever it’s called, you not only allowed it to be installed, you not only opened up the firewall ports so the traffic could go through, but you falsified the reports on all of it too.”

“Maybe I should ask for my lawyer.” Bradley folded his arms.

“Oh, you could certainly do that. Callahan, refresh my memory, what did we arrest Mr. Watermeier for?”

“I believe it was the invasion of privacy statute, Sergeant.”

Bradley scoffed. “You know that’s only for revenge porn and upskirt photos and stuff. You’re not even accusing me of any of that perverted shit.”

Callahan nodded. “Now, Sergeant, isn’t Mr. Watermeier correct in saying this wasn’t used for anything lascivious or dirty? Surely this is only punishable by firing, correct? This is obviously against our internal policies, but it cannot possibly meet the criminal standard—and besides, invasion of privacy is only a misdemeanor, right?”

“Impressive, Callahan. You’re sure thinking like a defense attorney.” Mark tapped his temple. “It sounds like Mr. Watermeier did his homework on this one.”

“They’re doing a good job playing off each other,” Fenway whispered to McVie. “This is entertaining to watch.”

“Shh,” shushed McVie.

“But,” Mark continued, “we’re actually going to be filing some additional charges. We found out when the malware was installed, and when those ports were opened to allow it, and we can conclusively prove it was Mr. Watermeier who did it. So, we’ll also be adding electronic eavesdropping charges.”

“Ah.” Callahan smiled knowingly.

“Bradley, you’re a smart guy. You know what a wobbler is?”

“Yeah.” Bradley’s voice was miserable.

Callahan looked at Mark with a comically confused expression. He was clearly enjoying this. “A wobbler. I’m not sure I know what that is, Sergeant. But then, I’m not too bright. In fact, Mr. Watermeier can attest to me not being too bright. I think I need my memory refreshed on that one.”

“Sure thing, Callahan. A wobbler is when the prosecutor can decide if they want to charge a crime as a misdemeanor or a felony.”

“Oh, right!” Callahan exclaimed, smacking his forehead. “The misdemeanor is a maximum of six months. The felony is three years.” He smiled. “That’s quite a wobble.”

“Callahan, is there anything you can think of that would make the prosecutor decide to charge this as a misdemeanor and not a felony?”

“Sure I can, Sergeant. I don’t think we’ve let Bradley know that we have also seen several large cash deposits made every month since the time those firewall ports were opened. And even I know if Bradley, here, tells us who paid him to electronically eavesdrop on Rachel, the prosecutor will be a lot more lenient.”

Mark swiveled his head slowly to look at Bradley. “What do you think, Bradley? You think you might want to tell us who it was who paid you?”

Bradley shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He never told me his name.”

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”

Callahan picked up the