“Bullshit,” Doug spat. “What are you, a teenager? I don’t see a badge or gun.” He motioned to Rachel. “You’re trying to help this bitch steal my brother’s money. You better get out of my way unless you want to get hurt too.”
“Do not threaten my daughter,” Stotsky said, in a menacing voice. He leaned forward, his massive frame blocking most of the aisle.
“Fighting in church is totally in bad taste anyway,” Fenway said. “No one wants—”
And just as Fenway was hoping, Doug threw a punch.
Stotsky saw it coming and stepped back—Doug’s fist missed Stotsky’s jaw by a mile. Fenway was still standing next to Stotsky, though, and Doug’s fist landed a glancing blow on her shoulder. It still hurt, and would likely bruise, but it wasn’t bad.
Before Doug could take a step back, Fenway drove her left hand up under his chin and pushed forward with her whole body. Doug’s punch had thrown his center of gravity off, so when Fenway drove forward, he twisted and fell awkwardly. She kept her hand on his chin and went down on top of him. Her knee was in his ribs when they hit the ground. Doug let out a painful wheeze.
“You just assaulted a peace officer. Shall we go down to the station to sort this all out?” Fenway noticed how hard her heart was pounding. She looked up. Her father, the reverend, the woman who had been with Walker’s widow, and the woman called Martha were all standing in the aisle about twenty feet away. Their eyes were big, like they couldn’t believe what they just saw.
“Rachel,” Fenway said, “would you be a dear and go get Dez?”
“Um, sure.” She went out the sanctuary doors.
“I’m going to sue you,” Doug squeaked.
“I apologize for this happening in your church, Reverend,” Fenway said, looking up at him. “It couldn’t be helped.”
Dez came in with Rachel following her. Fenway rolled Doug onto his stomach.
“This is starting to become a habit with you, Coroner.” Dez took out her handcuffs. “Did this one have a gun too?”
“Just fists.”
“I wasn’t trying to hit you,” Doug complained with a face full of floor. “I was trying to hit the big guy.”
“He called Rachel a few names,” she explained to Dez. “Mr. Stotsky didn’t much care for it.”
“You arresting him?”
Fenway looked from the man beneath her to Dez. “Yes. He punched me.”
Fenway pushed herself up a bit so Dez could pull Doug’s hands behind his back. “Keep this up,” Dez deadpanned, snapping the cuffs on Doug, “and you’re going to need your own pair. All right, sir, what’s your name?”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“Suit yourself. We’ll have to enter you as John Doe in the system. It’ll take an extra day or two to process you that way, but I guess that’s okay if you don’t mind being a guest of the county.”
“I think his name is Doug,” Fenway said. “He said Harrison Walker was his brother.”
Dez ignored her. “John Doe, you are under arrest for assault on a peace officer.”
“I didn’t know she was a peace officer.”
Fenway looked at Dez. “I told him I could arrest him. He didn’t believe me.”
“We can sort this all out at the station.” Dez helped Doug to his feet. “I’m going to call for a squad car. I can’t take him into custody in my Impala. People who have just been arrested tend not to treat the back seat with the utmost care.” She got on her radio to contact dispatch, and led Walker’s brother out of the sanctuary.
Nathaniel Ferris looked at them leaving, then looked at Fenway. “I’ll be right back.” He followed them out.
Rachel watched all of them go. “Uh, thanks, Fenway. That was pretty bad-ass. Is that the same kind of thing you did with Lana?”
Fenway nodded. “Well, Lana had a gun, but yeah.”
Stotsky cleared his throat. “Rachel, you and I need to talk.”
“Sorry, Dad. I’m not ready to talk to you right now.”
Fenway looked at Rachel and her father. “Well, both of you need to give your witness statements to this little event. You can come down to the sheriff’s office, give your statements, and then go talk, or not, as you see fit. And Rachel, you’re on paid leave for two weeks. More if you need it. Go talk to a psychologist, or go sit on a beach, or something. After you give your statement tonight, I don’t want to see you at the office.”
Rachel shook her head. “I don’t have the vacation time.”
“After what happened to you at the office on Friday? On company time? I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
“Do I need to come down and give a statement too?” asked Stotsky. He had an annoyed look on his face.
“Absolutely.”
He shook his head. “I’ve got to get Mr. Ferris home.”
“I think my father can find his own way. If you want, you can even ride with me in Dez’s Impala, although you have to promise not to mess up the back seat.”
Ferris came back into the sanctuary and walked up to them. “They just took Doug Walker out in handcuffs. This is a disaster. Doug is a lobbyist in Sacramento—this is awful for my business.”
Fenway blinked at him. “You saw him punch me, Dad.”
Ferris stopped. “I know he hit you, Fenway, but you know he was trying to hit Rob. And it barely touched you. You know emotions run high at these things. Why do that to a grieving relative? Really, Fenway? Handcuffs?”
“Thanks for your concern, Dad. I’ll be fine.” Fenway rubbed her shoulder. “Listen, Rob and Rachel both saw the guy hit me. We need to take their statements down at the sheriff’s office. How about if Dez drives the four of us, and you meet us down there later tonight? I know you came with Rob—you okay going down there together and meeting us?”
“I saw the punch too,” Ferris said. “Shouldn’t I give my statement?”
Fenway couldn’t see a way around it. “Sure, the more witnesses the better,” she said.
Her father looked at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to drop some paperwork off at the clerk’s office, so I’m going that way anyway. What’s it going to take, fifteen minutes?”
“I’m not sure I need to go, boss,” Stotsky said.
“Don’t be silly. We’ll go in my car. We’ll give our statements, we’ll go get a steak dinner, we’ll head back. You’ll be home by eight.”
“Rachel.” Stotsky pulled her aside. “I really would like to talk with you.”
She shook him off. “Dad, I know you didn’t like Dylan, but have some respect. You were calling him a pedophile just a few minutes ago.”
“He hurt you.” Stotsky raised his huge hand in front of his face and slowly made a fist. He stared at his fist for a minute, as if considering it for the first time. “He cheated on you, Rachel, maybe not with a teenaged girl, but he cheated on you. How am I supposed to act?”
Ferris walked over to Stotsky and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Rob. We’ll go drop off that paperwork with the county clerk—he told me he’d stay late—and then meet Fenway over at the sheriff’s office.”
Stotsky paused. “Okay.”
They walked out into the foyer. Through the glass of the floor-to-ceiling front windows, they could see a police cruiser outside with its lights flashing, and Dez putting Doug Walker into the back of the squad car.
“The clerk’s office shouldn’t take us too long,” Nathaniel Ferris said to Fenway, “so I think we’ll be able to meet you by 6:30.”
Fenway wanted to suggest that her father drop Stotsky off first, but she didn’t want either of them to get suspicious. “6:30 should be fine, Dad.”
Ferris and Stotsky continued their walk toward the front door. Ferris nodded at Rachel. “You coming, too?”
Rachel looked at Fenway. “No, thanks. I’ll catch a ride back with Fenway.”
Ferris looked at Stotsky and nodded. “Okay. See you at the station.”
Rachel and Fenway watched them walk out. The glass door s
wung shut behind them, and they turned right on the sidewalk towards the waiting limo. Then it was just the two of them, Rachel and Fenway, in the foyer.
“You’re probably mad at me, Fenway.”
Fenway gave her a sad smile. “No. No, I’m not. I can’t imagine going through what you’ve gone through this past week. I have no idea how I would have handled it.”
Rachel nodded and looked out the window as Dez slapped the top of the roof twice with her open hand and the cruiser pulled away.
“Actually.” Fenway cleared her throat. “Actually, that’s not true. I do know what I would do. Because I was in your situation once.”
“What?”
“I was in college. He was my Russian Lit professor. He cornered me in his office and—” Fenway shook her head and looked down. “And I didn’t say anything about it to anyone. I didn’t tell my mom, or any of my friends. I didn’t report it. I didn’t think anyone would believe me. Or if they did, I thought they’d take his side.” She took a deep breath. “But you didn’t hide, Rachel. You didn’t give in when Lana wouldn’t do anything the first time. You recorded it. You kicked him in the knee and scratched his face, and you got away.”
“I was lucky. He could have really hurt me.”
Fenway nodded. “Yes, I guess you were lucky. But you also weren’t ashamed. You copied that video onto a hundred USB sticks, and you got the projectionist to play the video at his memorial service so that no one left here—no one left Harrison Walker’s own memorial service—thinking he was anything but a rapist. I kind of envy you, Rachel. I wish I had had that kind of mindset after it happened to me.” Fenway looked up at the ceiling, above that second-floor hallway. Several long, pendulous rods came down from the ceiling, ending in a single ornamental silver light fixture. The light flared from the top and scattered itself throughout the foyer. “You were embarrassed when you told me a few nights ago. I was the first person you told, and you didn’t know why.” Fenway took a few steps back and leaned against the wall. “But I know why. Because you knew, deep inside, that I was like you.”
Fenway paused. “And, also, you’re the first person that I’ve told.”
Rachel walked across the room and leaned up against the wall next to Fenway. “You said I wasn’t ashamed, but I was ashamed. I still am.” Tears welled in her eyes, but she fought them back. “But I did it anyway.”
Dez pulled the door open. “Hey, everyone. Party at the sheriff’s office. I’m driving.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Dez had parked a few blocks away, and after making fun of Fenway’s impractical heels yet again, the three of them got into the car and headed to the sheriff’s office. They briefly discussed the idea of picking up some dinner, but they weren’t hungry. And, more than anything, Fenway wanted to get Stotsky in front of Bradley to see if her hunch was right.
“It will be a little weird being in that interview room again,” Rachel said.
Fenway shrugged. “It’ll be over soon enough. And remember, after this, two weeks off. Take care of yourself.”
The ride was quiet back to downtown, and they pulled into the parking garage about six-fifteen.
“Okay, we’re meeting your dad over at the sheriff’s office in fifteen minutes.” Fenway got out of the Impala. “Come into the office so I can finish up some paperwork before we head over there.”
Migs and Piper were in the office when they arrived. Piper was sitting on the desk facing Migs, who was sitting in his office chair. Her long legs were dangling in front of him. They were both laughing.
Rachel raised her hand in greeting. “Hey Migs, hey Piper.”
Migs looked at Dez. “I thought you were going to drive me to the service.”
“Doesn’t look like you’re too sad about missing it.”
Piper looked a little flustered; she dropped her smile and her ears turned a little red.
“Well,” Migs asked Fenway, “do you have time to look at Walker’s electronic files?”
Fenway thought for a moment. She was hoping she could connect more dots to Stotsky. “Do they say anything different than the files we’ve already looked at?”
Migs nodded. “It looks like Walker typed up all his handwritten notes into these computer files. We’ve been looking at all of the files that were taken that night, and all of the handwritten notes match—not perfectly, because maybe he mistyped something, or in some cases a word or phrase is different. If there was a photo in the file, he typed up a short description of it, usually with an identification number. But content-wise, they’re all consistent—nothing was changed that significantly altered the meaning of anything.” Migs paused for dramatic effect, a little smirk on his face.
Then he dropped a file on the desk. “Except this one.”
It was the Ferris Energy file.
Fenway shot Dez a look—hoping she’d get the message to look for evidence that Stotsky tampered with the file. Dez folded her arms and nodded.
“All right, let’s see the computer file, Migs.” Fenway scooted around behind him and crouched a bit so she could see his screen. He clicked on an open window, and then launched the file. Dez came around to see the screen, and Rachel pulled a chair over for Piper.
“There are three sets of notes in the file.” Piper pointed to the first set of notes on the screen. “So, there’s one on Fairweather; this one matches pretty well—personal life stuff, a couple of typos in the computer version, but nothing significantly different.”
Fenway didn’t think Rachel should be in the room if her father’s name showed up, but she couldn’t think of how to get her out of the room without arousing her suspicion.
“This next one is a set of notes on Carl Cassidy,” Piper continued. “This one is almost completely different. It’s very similar to the content of the Fairweather notes. A section on work history, a section on personal matters, a section on toxicology, notes on his criminal record—you see he had a drunk and disorderly about twenty years ago. And some notes on finances. But nothing on his employee assistance program. Nothing on any affair—not a single statement from any private investigator, not a single mention of a photo, not a single mention of Dylan. And Lana is mentioned as the spouse, in the list here from Carl’s personal life, and her name pops up on a couple of financial accounts.”
Dez patted Fenway on the shoulder. “Looks like you were right, Prom Queen. That note was forged.”
Piper turned and looked at Dez. “Not just that one.”
“What?” Fenway asked. “Not just Carl’s?”
Migs shook his head. “Nope, not just Carl’s.”
Piper turned back to the screen. “In the last note, the hard copy in the physical folder didn’t have a lot to say. Mostly, it said that the company wasn’t at fault. But Walker’s notes don’t say that. It says that the fume ventilation system controls looked worn. And see this paragraph right here?”
Room in which decedents were found appears to be a hallway that employees often used as a shortcut between work areas. A secured, air-sealed tank is about 30 meters away, and the gases vent into it, where they are treated with chemicals to break their toxicity. The venting was performed when people were in the hallway next to the ventilation duct, which is a breach of procedure, and the ventilation duct appears to have ruptured, flooding the hallway with toxic fumes. Ferris Energy appears to have been negligent in both its safety training, and maintenance, directly resulting in the death of both men.
Dez shook her head. “No wonder Lana was so ticked off at you, Fenway. I bet she thought you were going to cover this all up.”
“You don’t need to be a handwriting expert to see that these notes are forged. Just taking a quick look at these files, it looks to me like all of the notes in the Ferris Energy file were written by the same person, in a fairly decent, but detectable, imitation of Walker’s handwriting.” She pulled out the three handwritten pages and put them down on the desk side by side.
Rachel came over and looked over Piper’s s
houlder.
“Do we have any idea who forged them?” Fenway asked Piper.
“I haven’t found anything yet.”
Migs broke in. “But we might know soon enough anyway—I heard from the M.E.” He picked up a file folder off his desk and looked through it. “Whoever filed the numbers off the gun that killed Walker did a pretty bad job. So far, they were able to raise every number but two with an acid treatment, and they think the other two might be visible if they leave the acid on overnight. They’ll let us know tomorrow morning.”
Fenway wracked her brain trying to remember where Stotsky had worked before becoming Ferris Energy’s head of security. She thought she remembered Rachel saying it was the CHP. She bit her tongue—she wanted Rachel to confirm it, but couldn’t risk it before Bradley met Stotsky.
Piper sat back in her chair. “And whoever murdered Walker wasn’t aware that the computer files would contradict the fake files. That, or they were hoping no one would find Walker’s laptop.”
“So, wait.” Migs pointed to the paragraph in Walker’s note that read Ferris Energy appears to have been negligent in both its safety training, and maintenance. “Is the ‘conclusion’ that Walker was talking about in that other email—is it that Ferris Energy was negligent?” He clicked through a few windows until he found what he was looking for. “Here’s that email. ‘I’m not negotiating. Higher than discussed originally but your requested changes give me higher risk. You can say no but we both know what a pain in the ass the investigators can be if they see the conclusions in there now.’”
“That makes sense.” Fenway was now sure that her father’s company was involved—but was it Stotsky acting on his own? “The conclusions are that Ferris Energy is at fault for the accident—and the deaths of Cassidy and Fairweather—and that opens them up for all kinds of liability.”
Dez leaned on the desk. “So, it makes sense that the person who messed with the files was from Ferris Energy, or hired by them. And it’s likely that the person who crashed Dylan’s truck through the building was also someone from Ferris Energy, possibly the same someone. Not Dylan. Not Mc—” She stopped and glanced at Fenway. “Not anybody else.”
The Reluctant Coroner (Fenway Stevenson Mysteries Book 1) Page 27
