The Upstaged Coroner

by Paul Austin Ardoin

  By the time she got to the coroner’s office, it was past three o’clock. She asked Migs to look up the legality of keeping administrative records from peace officers, but Fenway suspected that she and McVie had only flimsy arguments. By the skeptical look on Migs’s face, he knew it too. Fenway typed up her notes as Migs researched it, and to no one’s surprise, Migs found that nothing could be done without a subpoena, or at least a warrant.

  She walked to the it office, and at the sound of the door opening, Piper turned around. “Oh—great, Fenway, you’re here. Just who I wanted to see. I’m concerned about some of the anomalies I see in the Central Auto Body records.”

  “That’s great, Piper. Keep digging.”

  “Uh, I don’t know. I think it’s something you should see.”

  “Can I look at it tomorrow?”

  Piper bit her lip. “I don’t think so.”

  Fenway bobbed her head side to side and took a deep breath. “Okay, I promise I’ll take a look at it later. Right now, I kind of need a favor.”

  “More important than the Central Auto Body thing?”

  Fenway paused and closed her eyes. Delegate.

  But this was a personal issue, not something to prioritize for Piper’s work time.

  “No. Keep digging on the financials. It’s a personal thing. I’ll try to figure it out myself.”

  Fenway started out the door when Piper’s voice stopped her. “Wait, Fenway—at least tell me what you need.”

  She turned around. “I take it by now you heard my father was arrested.”

  “Yeah. It’s all over the news.”

  “I don’t know where they’re holding him. His wife doesn’t know, his lawyers don’t know.”

  “What do you mean? He’s lost in the system?”

  Fenway shrugged.

  “You want me to find out where he is.”

  “You can dig into county records, right?”

  “Of course, but that won’t tell me anything if the paperwork is lost. If it’s never been entered into the system, breaking into the system won’t do any good.”

  “Can we see what’s out there? I don’t know if he’s been extradited to Washington state, or if he’s in some fbi detention center somewhere.”

  “All right, but after you find your dad, you promise to look at the Central Auto Body problem? Like, before you go home?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Piper listened as Fenway related the facts about her father’s arrest: the professor at Western Washington, the mcu detective from Bellingham, the arrest the night before, and the team of high-priced lawyers who couldn’t locate their client. Then Fenway’s theories: Nathaniel Ferris on the bus that was killing time driving up and down the freeway, the possible fbi or u.s. Attorney involvement, the goal to get the arraignment moved to Tuesday.

  “And, of course, Charlotte is going crazy,” Fenway finished.

  “Charlotte—that’s your stepmother?”

  “My father’s second wife? Yes.”

  Piper spun her chair in front of her keyboard. “If their whole purpose is to delay your father’s processing until tomorrow, they’d need to establish a reasonable paper trail for what’s essentially a twenty-four-hour delay.” Piper shook her head. “But honestly, Fenway, they don’t need to book him tomorrow morning to establish his arraignment on Tuesday. They need to wait until after the courts close. That sets the clock at the start of tomorrow—that’s the forty-eight hour limitation.”

  Fenway looked at the clock on her phone. “So I’ve got an hour to wait.”

  “Those are the county offices. They’re open till five, but the courts close at four.”

  Fenway grimaced. “Yes. I knew that.”

  “So your dad might be getting processed right now.”

  “Or he might be on his way to Bellingham, or fbi detention.”

  Piper tilted her head. “Or he might be across the street.” She smiled. “So come back here after you see if your dad is there. We’ve got to figure out if there are more financial ledgers at Central Auto Body. Also, I’m not sure if I made a mistake. I might have told someone something I shouldn’t have.”

  Did Piper know there was a mole in the department? “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure whatever you said is fine. You know everyone here—we’re all police officers.”

  “No, Fenway, it wasn’t a coworker. It was someone whose name I found in the ledger.”

  Fenway’s eyes widened. “That might be a big deal. Maybe you should tell me now.”

  Piper hesitated. “Okay. I found a name in the ledger—a real one, not a fake one, not like I usually find in these sanitized financial records—and I thought it was a guy who had sold a boat to one of our nameless suspects.”

  “Wait—a boat? Why—”

  “It’s a long story.” Piper waved her hand. “My point is, I was hoping I could get the real name of someone who could give me clues about who’s behind the money laundering, so I called the guy with the real name in the ledger. But I don’t think he’s an innocent third party who sold a boat. I think he’s involved. I think he’s close to the people who run the whole thing, and I think I spooked him. Now I’m afraid he’ll to try to steal evidence from Central Auto Body.”

  “What?”

  “Listen—I know it’s a crazy and convoluted story, but I’m almost positive there are more ledgers there, and I think this guy will try to steal them.”

  Fenway looked at her watch. On one hand, Piper’s warning was time-sensitive. On the other, she sometimes overreacted to danger—and her sensors were on high alert. If Fenway’s father had been given the runaround, maybe on a prison bus for much of the last twenty-four hours, was delaying a meeting with him worth it? She closed her eyes and heard Charlotte’s nagging voice in her head, and made her decision.

  “Okay, Piper,” she said evenly. “I’ll see my father, but I promise I’ll come right back here, go through your evidence, and see if we need to take any action.”

  Piper looked more worried than Fenway had ever seen her before, but she gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Maybe an hour, an hour and a half tops.”

  “Okay,” Piper said.

  Fenway was keenly aware of her flats clicking on the concrete, a higher-pitched sound than she was used to, echoing off the buildings and the glass windows. She opened the door to the jail building, stepping into the vestibule, and glanced up at the guard.

  “Hey, Fenway!”

  “Hey, Todd—Officer Young,” Fenway said. “I didn’t realize you were on duty here.”

  “Yep, after my stint on your protection detail was over, they reassigned me.”

  “I thought you liked the night shift.”

  “Swing isn’t that bad. I’m returning to night shift in a couple of weeks.” Officer Young tapped the clipboard in front of him. “Who you here for?”

  “Three guesses. The first two don’t count.”

  Officer Young smiled. “You must have a sixth sense for these things. He’s not even out of processing yet.”

  “My father’s lawyers won’t be too impressed if paperwork goes missing for twenty-four hours.”

  Young shook his head. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “What—you think this is all on the up-and-up?”

  “Let me rephrase. They don’t pay me enough to know anything about that.” Officer Young opened the logbook. “You know visiting hours are over.”

  “I know,” Fenway said. “I’m here in an official capacity.”

  “Sure you are.” Officer Young chuckled. “And we officially lost the paperwork. I’ll go get him. It might take a few minutes. Room four okay?”

  “That’s fine.”

  Officer Young opened the door behind him with his card key, and Fenway turned and walked down the corridor, going into the interview room.

  All four interview rooms looked about the same—metal table, panic button, three metal chairs in various states of disrepair. Fenway sighed and sat in the only chair on the
near side of the table.

  She had to wait over forty-five minutes before Officer Young appeared at the door. An orange-clad Nathaniel Ferris followed him into the interview room, and Fenway stood up from her chair automatically. Her father looked old. The orange jumpsuit made his white skin look pink and sun-scorched, like a German tourist on a beach holiday. His shoulders were slumped, his head was down, and his eyes had little light in them.

  “Hi, Dad,” Fenway said. “Are you okay?”

  He raised his head and looked Fenway in the face. Fenway saw, as if for the first time, the similarity in their noses and the shape of their eyes, in spite of the difference in their skin color. Ferris nodded, silently, and Officer Young led him to a chair on the opposite side of the table from Fenway.

  “You know how to reach me,” Officer Young said. “Just push that red button and I’ll be in right away.”

  “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, Officer.”

  Officer Young nodded and exited the room.

  Fenway looked at her father. His chin was down again, his posture slouched against the metal chair. Not even when Charlotte had been arrested had the powerful Nathaniel Ferris been so morose. “I guess the official word is they lost your paperwork. I bet your lawyers will rip the county a new one.”

  Nathaniel Ferris looked blankly into Fenway’s face, not responding. But then, after a few agonizing moments, he mumbled, “I’ve never been in a situation like this before, Fenway. I’m not sure what to do.”

  “Come on, Dad. Snap out of it. It’s the same old dirty tricks you’re used to playing, but instead of screwing over smaller oil companies with leveraged buyouts, you’re the one who got screwed over. So how did they delay you from getting processed for so long? My money’s on a supposed snafu that put you on a bus to Bellingham. Then the bus turned around just late enough where you’d miss the courts being open. And I bet all the paperwork is in place to make it look legit, too.”

  Ferris stared at Fenway with an odd look in his eyes, like he didn’t understand what she had said.

  “Dad, don’t you see? It was all so they could have the long weekend before they had to arraign you. They want as much time as possible to build their case. But your lawyers will have you out of here tomorrow morning, right?”

  Ferris dropped his head. “I had gotten Charlotte back, and I thought everything would be okay, and then the detective from Bellingham shows up at my door, with a couple of officers, tells me I have to come with them, that I’m under arrest for the murder of that professor.”

  “Yeah,” Fenway said. “The murder of my professor.”

  Nathaniel Ferris looked her in the eye and slowly shook his head. “You think I did it, don’t you?”

  She couldn’t believe how much fight had gone out of her father. The ruthless scion of the oil industry, vengeful ex-husband, subject of dozens of magazine articles about fearless leadership—he sat across from her, looking thoroughly defeated.

  “What’s going on, Dad? I thought you’d fight this.”

  “You think I did it.”

  “Well, so what if I do?” Fenway retorted. “Since when have you cared what I think?”

  Ferris raised his eyes to hers. He looked like he’d been slapped.

  She drew in her breath sharply. “That’s not what I meant. I—”

  “Listen, Fenway, I know you think I’m selfish. I know you think I don’t care what happens to other people. But I never imagined you think I’d be capable of murder.”

  “Come on, Dad, you’re the most powerful man in the county. I remember when I was in second grade and that boy called me the—uh, the n-word. You got him kicked out of school.”

  “I didn’t have his parents killed,” Ferris pointed out.

  “Of course you didn’t, but he was a kid. He might not have known any better.”

  “He knew better,” Ferris said under his breath, and Fenway caught the gleam in his eye. Perhaps the fire in his belly had reignited.

  “Maybe so.” She coughed lightly. “What Professor Delacroix did to me is a hell of a lot worse.”

  Ferris leaned back in the chair, his hands on his knees, and nodded. “Okay,” he said, “you want to know the truth?” He gritted his teeth. “I would have done it.”

  “You would have?”

  “I even thought about doing it. I thought about paying my pilot out of my own pocket in cash, taking the turboprop to the Bellingham airport. I found out where he lived. I knew when his last class got out. I planned to go to his house, wait till he got home, then shoot him in the head.”

  Ferris’s eyes unfocused for a moment.

  “I know a gun dealer there,” Ferris continued. “I left him a message the day after you told me about it. Untraceable. I’d pay for the taxi in cash. I’d wear a disguise.”

  “You wouldn’t take the jet?”

  “I don’t have to file a flight plan with the turboprop.” He laughed. “All that planning, and he was already dead.”

  “You wouldn’t hire someone?”

  “I don’t trust anyone who works for me to kill someone. Sure, my employees don’t always follow the spirit of the law, but exploiting the loopholes in contract law is a far cry from murder. It’s not something you give your head of security twenty grand to do. It’s something you have to feel.”

  “And you were mad enough to do it.”

  Ferris nodded.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “I went to double-check his schedule online,” Ferris said. “I thought maybe I’d wait a few days—I had meetings anyway—and then when I searched for his name, I found an article in the Seattle Times about his death.”

  “You searched for his name? You would have left a trail on your computer!”

  “I have an anonymizer.”

  Fenway narrowed her eyes. Her father was, surprisingly, even more savvy than she gave him credit for. “You’re telling me that you would have tried to kill him if you thought you could get away with it, and someone else killed him before you figured it all out?”

  Ferris set his jaw. “I would have gotten away with it, if I had done it.” He looked at Fenway. “Which I guess means that I am a murderer. I just haven’t murdered anyone yet.”

  Though she was skeptical, some parts of Fenway thought that was kind of—not terrible. Maybe even a little sweet. She had spent twenty years of her life separated by both distance and emotion from her father, and as much as she had dreaded moving to Estancia, she grudgingly admitted to herself that she was glad she’d returned. True, she and her father didn’t get along well right now, but upon reflection, she got along better with him than she thought she would. “I don’t think you’re a monster or anything, Dad,” she said. “I wasn’t sure, when I lived in Seattle, how far you would ever go to protect me, or defend me, or even, you know, spend any time with me at all.”

  Ferris blinked rapidly several times and looked down at the table. “I know, I know,” he mumbled. “I haven’t been there. I wasn’t there for you in high school, or at graduation, or in college—” His voice started to break, and he stopped speaking.

  “What is it, Dad?”

  Ferris sucked in air through his teeth. “I don’t know if things would have been any different if I had, I don’t know, taken a more active role in your life when you were at Western Washington.”

  Fenway lowered her voice. “Are you saying that if you had been a better father, Delacroix wouldn’t haven’t raped me?”

  Ferris didn’t raise his head, still staring at the tabletop and not meeting Fenway’s eyes. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

  “Well, I hope you’re not saying that, because you’d be giving yourself a lot more credit than you deserve,” Fenway snapped. “You think that fucker raped me because my daddy didn’t come to my high school graduation? You think I somehow let him know that without a big strong father figure I was vulnerable and he could get away with it?”

  “He did get away with it,” Ferris said.

&nb
sp; “Not because of you!” Fenway roared, standing up. The metal chair scraped against the concrete floor. “Are you seriously so egocentric that you think the world revolves—” She stopped speaking midsentence, closing her eyes, opening and closing her fists, noticing her breaths coming short and fast, and trying to settle herself down. She opened her eyes and looked at her father. “I came here tonight because Charlotte didn’t know where you were being held,” Fenway said. “You need to get your shit together before Charlotte comes here tomorrow. I’ll tell her to be here at straight-up noon. I don’t care if you’re wallowing in self-pity, but at noon, you’ll be the overconfident, spiteful asshole that she fell in love with, and you’ll tell her you can beat this thing. She’s falling apart, and you have to be her rock now.”

  Ferris nodded. “But Fenway—”

  “What is it?”

  “You need to know I didn’t do this.”

  “Have you found a good criminal lawyer yet? I mean the one who’ll lead the murder defense, not the ones who’ll get you out of jail first thing in the morning.”

  Ferris shook his head. “I’m working on it. We have recommendations from our legal team.”

  “Okay, Dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “What, that’s it? Five minutes and you’re gone?”

  “I’ve got a series of murders to take care of, and while I’d love to stay here and chat, the people of this county elected me to do my job.”

  “But you can call people, Fenway. You can see what the Bellingham detective has on me.”

  “Maybe I’ve already started.” Fenway sympathized with him and swore at herself for letting him get to her. “I’ll come see you tomorrow. Try to keep busy. See if they can get you some books or something.”

  “Books?”

  “Sure. Maybe Charlotte can bring a few from your library.”

  He nodded.

  Fenway got up and walked over to the rear door. She knocked firmly.

  Officer Young opened the door. “Everything okay?”