Annette Dashofy - Zoe Chambers 03 - Bridges Burned (21 page)

Twenty-one

Even before Holt and Maddie were packed, Zoe had been on the phone to Franklin Marshall. She learned he and Doc Abercrombie were setting up to do the autopsy on Stephen Tierney. She also learned she wasn’t welcome. No surprise. She already knew she was still technically a suspect.

Welcome or not, the minute the Farabees drove away from the farm, Zoe jumped into her truck and headed to Brunswick. Forty-five minutes later, she stood in the morgue’s office with Franklin, who was decked out in his scrubs.

The coroner planted his fists on his narrow hips. “Good lord, Zoe. Every time I’ve tried to get you to assist with an autopsy, you pull every trick in the book to get out of it. This one I can’t possibly allow you to be anywhere near, and here you are.”

“I don’t want to assist. I just want to know what you find.”

“I’ll call you.”

“I’ll save you the trouble.”

“Zoe…”

“I found him in
my
basement.”

“Precisely.”

They stood nose-to-nose. Zoe wasn’t backing down. Especially when she noticed Franklin’s eye twitch.

The coroner sighed. “I’m serious, Zoe. I can’t let you in there. A defense attorney would have a field day throwing out any evidence we might provide.”

“Then let me sit here. I won’t set foot inside the autopsy room.”

“You could sit upstairs in the hospital’s snack bar. I’ll call you as soon as we finish.”

“C’mon, Franklin.” Zoe let a touch of a whine creep into her voice for effect. “This guy died in my house. I need to know why.” And who did it, but “why” would be a start. “The cops won’t let me work on the case. I get that. But I can’t just stand back and be an impassive observer.”

He shook a bony finger in her face. “You don’t have a choice.” But he dropped his hand to his side and huffed at her. “Fine. You can sit here. But do not set foot through that door.”

The truth was she’d have settled for sitting in the hallway. “Okay. Thanks.”

The coroner muttered something she couldn’t quite make out as he shuffled from the office to the autopsy room.

Zoe walked to the window and peered through the slats in the blinds. Stephen Tierney’s body lay on the stainless steel table. She could make out the marbled discoloration to skin stretched too tight from bloating. The forensic pathologist looked up as Franklin approached and nodded. As Doc Abercrombie prepared to make the first incision, Zoe let the slats close and turned to sit in one of the worn vinyl chairs that graced the office. No, she definitely did not want to be in the autopsy room for this one.

“Ryan was an EOD specialist?” Pete echoed Ashley Mancinelli’s words. EOD. Explosive Ordnance Disposal.

“Yes.” She turned away from the empty garage bay. “He’d blown up so many devices in the war, any kind of loud noise would send him into a panic attack.”

Pete scanned the contents of the garage, looking for—what? The makings of a bomb? So far the person he was looking for hadn’t needed one. Natural gas. Hay. A lighter. Who needed an incendiary device when materials abounded? “Don’t suppose you know where Ryan’s working today, do you?”

“No.” She nodded toward the house. “But he keeps his schedule on his computer. Do you want me to look it up?”

“Please.”

Ashley led the way back inside, keeping her head down to avoid looking at the mess. Upstairs, she pressed a button to power up the computer. As it hummed and whined, she looked around the room, hugging herself as if she was cold. “He should be home soon.”

Good. Then Pete wouldn’t have to track him down to ask him a few questions.

“It wasn’t always like this. We used to be so good together. And Ryan and my folks used to get along great. Ryan and Dad would sit for hours and talk about the wars. Dad had been in the Gulf War. The first one. He wouldn’t talk to Mom or me about it. Only Ryan.”

“When did things start changing?”

Ashley shook her head. “It happened gradually. I can’t really put a date on it. But this business with the hedges…” She sighed.

The computer played a short ditty as a white bar appeared, asking for a password. Ashley slid into the leather swivel chair and typed a few strokes. The computer binged and a new screen appeared. Within a minute, she’d pulled up an appointment book. “That’s odd.”

Pete leaned down to look over her shoulder. “What?”

“There’s nothing here. It’s blank.”

“For today?”

She scrolled down. “For the last week. I don’t understand. He’s been going to work everyday.”

Pete touched her shoulder. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” She vacated the chair so he could take her place.

Pete scrolled further back through Ryan’s calendar. There were a number of small jobs. New roof. Room addition. Replacement windows. The man had kept busy. Pete was about to quit when he spotted a block of months marked only as SHE. “Um. Who is
she
?”

“Excuse me?”

Pete hoped he wasn’t about to drive the final nail into the Mancinelli marriage’s coffin as he pointed to the screen. “She. Who is she?”

Ashley laughed. “Those are initials. His shorthand for Scenic Hilltop Estates. He worked up there on and off for almost two years.”

Pete left orders with Ashley Mancinelli to call his cell phone as soon as her husband returned home and headed to Zoe’s farm, currently known as the crime scene. The crowd had thinned out considerably. The crime scene boys appeared to be packing it in. Baronick was engaging one of the investigators in conversation next to the county CSU truck. Obvious by their absence were Zoe’s and Farabee’s pickups.

Pete parked next to the detective’s unmarked sedan and climbed out. “What have we got?”

The crime scene investigator gave a short laugh lacking amusement. “A truck full of evidence that’s probably nothing more than a century’s worth of garbage.”

Baronick flashed his too-big smile. “Maybe you’ve bagged the next big Antiques Roadshow find and don’t even realize it.”

“Right.” The CSI didn’t sound optimistic. “We’ll start sorting through everything as soon as we get back to the lab. I’ll let you both know if we find anything of importance.”

They shook hands, and the crime scene guys piled into their truck.

“Where’s Zoe?” Pete asked Baronick as the CSU rig bounced down the lane.

“She was gone by the time I got here. Farabee and the kid, too.” Baronick hoisted a thumb toward the house. “The old lady says the Farabees have flown the coop permanently. Packed their meager belongings and vamoosed.”

“Did he happen to say where he was going?”

“Not to the old lady. Maybe he told Zoe.” Baronick waggled a suggestive eyebrow. “Maybe she’s helping him move.”

The thought chilled what had been a warm realization. Farabee no longer shared Zoe’s house. But had the change in address come too late to sever the bond that had developed?

“Or,” Baronick continued. “She might be at the autopsy. Franklin called me a little while ago to say he and Doc were gonna get started on it…” The detective checked his phone. “Right about now.”

“Zoe can’t assist with this one. Franklin knows that.”

“But does Zoe?”

Any other time, she’d have found an array of excuses to avoid the morgue. But under the circumstances…

“How about you? Did you find your secretary’s brother-in-law?”

“Not exactly.” Pete relayed the tidbit about Ryan Mancinelli’s work history at Scenic Hilltop Estates.

Baronick whistled. “Any connection to Lillian Farabee?”

“I intend to find out. One more thing. He was an EOD specialist in Iraq.”

“Get out. An explosives expert who worked at a housing development where there happened to be an explosion. I think I want a long talk with that man.”

“Me, too. His wife’s supposed to call as soon as he gets home.”

“Don’t suppose he’s flown the coop, too, do you?”

“I hope not.” Pete dug his phone from his pocket and checked the time. A little after five. Technically, he was off duty. He punched in Kevin’s number. “I’m going to update my officer and tell him to keep an eye out for Mancinelli,” he told Baronick before pressing send. “Then I’m going to check in on Tierney’s autopsy.” And he wasn’t sure if he hoped to find Zoe there or not.

Zoe paced the small office. Stopped to peer through the blinds. Made another loop around the desk. Stopped and checked her phone. No call or text from Holt. Not that she’d expected one. But she’d like to know Maddie was okay.

Zoe pulled up his number from her address book.

The call rang twice and went to voicemail. She hung up without leaving a message.

The door swung open, and she wheeled, coming face-to-face with Pete. A blanket of regret settled over her when she met his icy blues. Until a few days ago, there would have been a sparkle in them. This evening, there was only guarded disappointment.

She backed against the dented steel desk, half sitting on it, half leaning. “Hey.”

“You aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Nice to see you, too.”

He heaved a sigh. “You know what I mean. This case is off limits.”

“So I’ve been told.” She shot a glance at the closed blinds. “I haven’t gone near the body. In fact this is as close as I’ve gotten to it since I checked him for a pulse when he was just an arm among the eyes.”

“Huh?”

City boys. “His arm. The potatoes’ eyes. Never mind.”

“I got it.” Pete cast a quick look at the same closed blinds. “Any idea what they’ve found?”

“Nope. I’m behaving. Really. All I know is what I can see when I peek, which isn’t much.”

Pete seemed to be pondering whether to leave her there to check their progress for himself or to stay where he was. He crossed his arms. “Your housemates left.”

It was a statement of fact more than a question, so she saw no need to respond.

“Where’d they go?”

“I have no idea.”

Pete raised a doubting eyebrow.

“I don’t. To be honest, I don’t think Holt knew either.”

“Why’d he leave?”

Zoe figured Pete already guessed one possible reason—guilt—so she didn’t mention it. “He said he needed to take care of something he’d put off too long.”

Pete frowned. “And you don’t know what he meant by that?”

“He didn’t confide in me.” Zoe pushed away from the desk and hooked her thumbs in the belt loops of her uniform pants. She’d been off duty all day, but still hadn’t found time to change clothes. “Look, I owe you an apology.”

That eyebrow shot up again, but this time in surprise. “You do?”

She looked down at her boots. Caught her lower lip in her teeth for a moment. “You may have been right about him. I should have listened to you instead of inviting him to stay with me and Mrs. Kroll.”

She could feel Pete watching her and looked up to see his reaction. She expected an I told you so. Or a self-satisfied smirk. Instead, he was scowling.

“What?”

He shook his head. “I was about to say I’ve changed my mind about Farabee. I don’t think he killed Tierney. And probably not his wife either.”

The admission startled Zoe into silence. For a moment, at least. “Why not?”

“I don’t think the man’s a complete idiot. And he’d have to be to hide the body of a man he’d killed in his own basement.” Pete made a sour face. “Or the basement of the house where he was living at the time.”

“What about his ball cap?”

Pete shrugged. “I don’t have answers. Just a lot of puzzle pieces. And the ones involving Farabee don’t fit.”

Before Zoe could add a few more spare pieces to the puzzle, the office door swung open, and Franklin Marshall breezed through. He’d shed the gloves and scrubs.

“You missed all the fun,” he said to Pete.

“Not all of it. Did you find anything?”

Franklin eyed Zoe. “Perhaps she should leave before we discuss business.”

“For crying out loud.” She planted her fists on her hips. “Do you seriously consider me a suspect?”

“No,” both men said simultaneously.

She raised both hands, palms up, imploring.

The coroner rolled his eyes. Pete grinned. “What’d you find, Franklin?”

He walked around the desk and leaned down, tapping the computer keyboard. Zoe positioned herself so she could peer over his shoulder. After a few mouse clicks, a page of photo thumbnails opened. “This body tells quite a story,” Franklin said with a tired sigh. “And it’s considerably different than that of the police report.”

“How so?” Pete moved next to Zoe. “And in English, please.”

Franklin enlarged one photo. He tapped the screen with his pen, indicating a greenish pattern on the torso. “This is called venous marbling. And this…” He pointed the pen at red and white mottling over the rest of the body. “This is the set livor and blanching which show the positioning of the body when he was killed.”

Zoe’s pulse raced. “That’s not right.”

Franklin and Pete turned to look at her.

“He was lying on potatoes. There should be white marks on his chest and abdomen from lying face down on potatoes.”

A smile teased Franklin’s lips. “You’re right. If he’d fallen onto those potatoes or even been placed there immediately after he was killed, the blanching and lividity would show it. This man had been on his side. The body was moved after his livor was set. Also, if I were to believe this gentleman had died where he was found, which was a cool dark basement, I’d say he’d been dead for quite some time. Perhaps a week or more.”

Zoe nodded. “Because decomp would have been slowed down.”

“Exactly.”

Pete pulled out his reading glasses, settled them on his face, and took another look at the photo. “Do you have a cause of death?”

“There was a compressed fracture to the posterior aspect of the right parietal bone.” Franklin’s fingers went to the spot on his own head. “I’d say someone struck him from behind with something smaller than a baseball bat. A pipe perhaps. And there’s something else, too.” The coroner clicked the mouse, zooming in on the photo. “See this area of blanching?”

Zoe squinted at a whitish band circling Tierney’s midsection with a matching mark on both arms. “Was he tied up?”

“Possibly.” Franklin winked at her. “I’ll make a coroner out of you yet.”

A flash of pride was quickly nullified by doubt. Was that a good thing or a bad thing?

Pete either didn’t catch Franklin’s comment or pretended not to. “Do you have a time of death?”

“Hard to say since the body was clearly moved.” Franklin lowered into his chair. “Could have been any time from last Thursday to Saturday. It would help if you knew when he was last seen.”

“He’s been out of town on business.” Pete said. “As far as I can tell, the last time anyone saw him was last Wednesday after the explosion.”

“I saw him on Friday.” Zoe braced for an explosion of a different sort as both men looked at her. She met Pete’s withering glare. “Right before you showed up. In fact, you just missed him.”

“What,” Pete asked, his jaw tight, “was Stephen Tierney doing at your house?”

“He was arguing with Holt.”