The Clandestine Coroner : A Fenway Stevenson Novella by Paul Austin Ardoin

Author:Paul Austin Ardoin [Ardoin, Paul Austin]
Language: eng
Format: epub

It took about half an hour to clean up the garage. Fenway went into the house.

“Emma?” she called from the large tiled entryway.

Emma’s face appeared at the top of the staircase. “Are you finished?”

“Yes. I’m sorry we had to stay so late.”

“Did you—did you find what you were looking for?”

Fenway nodded.

Emma paused. “You said earlier he was traveling with that girl.”

“I said her name was on the second ticket,” Fenway said, “but no, she wasn’t with him. She never checked in for the flight.”

Emma’s brow furrowed. “I see.”

“You seem disappointed.”

“I don’t know—I expected if he was leaving me, he’d be going with her.” A smile touched the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps she didn’t want to leave her cushy life here and travel with an old man to Belize.”

Fenway grinned. “You’d think all that money would be reason enough, but I suppose anyone can change their mind.”

Emma cleared her throat. “I appreciate you telling me, Coroner.”

“You’re welcome. I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

“What happens to my husband now?”

“They’ll transport him up from L.A. tomorrow,” Fenway said.

“Will I need to come down to the station?”

“I’m not sure yet. Can we contact you?”

“Certainly. I believe I gave the deputy my cell number.”

Fenway nodded. “I’ll get out of your hair now. Have a good night.”

Fenway left through the front door and closed it solidly behind her. She squeezed her eyes shut. What was it that didn’t make sense?

She walked down the stone path to the street, pulling out her phone. 10:43. It might be too late to call McVie, but with their abandoned dinner plans, she figured she should chance waking him up.

He picked up on the first ring. “Oh, hey. I didn’t think I’d hear from you tonight.”

“I wasn’t so sure either. Is it too late to come over?”

“I think I can make time in my busy schedule.”

“You’re not working late?”

“Nope—you’ll never guess who called me this evening to tell me my services are no longer required.”

“Emma Northwall.”

“Ha. Right you are. How did you know?”

“We can talk more when I get there,” Fenway said, unlocking her car and opening the door. The Accord still smelled faintly of tacos.

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