The Coroner, page 19
“Wait, ‘Stage the house, find a realtor, put house on market.’ Does that mean you and Cathy are selling this place?” Emily asked.
“You can scratch those off the list. We’re not selling this house.” Robert leaned forward in his recliner and rocked himself to a standing position. “I think I’ll take a walk around the property. Work off this pie.”
“Is that a good idea?” Emily asked. “You shouldn’t be straining yourself.”
Robert was already headed for the sliding glass door that led from the living room to the backyard. She watched him cross the lawn and disappear behind the barn. On the other side of the barn was Robert’s small orchard and vegetable garden. Emily went to the kitchen for a roll of aluminum wrap. She wrapped the pie in foil and placed it into the fridge to keep it fresh.
Her eyes strained as she read down the “To Do” list again and she contemplated how much work all of this was going to be. This was more than a couple weeks’ work. She wondered if she might have to take a leave of residency. Was that even possible? She’d have to make a call to Dr. Claiborne. Emily paced the house for a few minutes, looking at all the furniture that would have to be moved, stored, or sold, before her worry about her father sent her out the door after him. Robert was whittling slices off a freshly picked apple with his pocketknife when he noticed Emily’s presence in the orchard.
“Just picked it from the Macintosh,” Robert said. “Want one?”
“No thanks. Still full from the pie.”
“That tree is overloaded. The lower branches are almost touching the ground. You can see where the deer grabbed a few snacks. But the rest are ripe and ready. We should call the food bank to come over and harvest it. Shame it should go to waste this year,” he said.
“I’ll put it on the list.”
“I worked like a fiend to keep those tent worms off the trees.”
“Seems to have done the trick,” she said. “You know Dad, despite the way things turned out, I have some really great memories of this place.”
Robert nodded and surveyed his beautiful little country kingdom. A satisfied look settled over him. He turned slightly to Emily and drew out his words slowly.
“When I die, whether it’s next week or ten years from now, it’s going to be here. At this home. On this land.”
Emily was about to open her mouth.
“Emily. Stop. This is how it is,” he said with a calm tone.
Speaking as a doctor, not your daughter, you’re making really bad choices for yourself.”
“Well, they’re mine to make,” he told her. “And I need you to know that it meant the world to me that you came up here to see me.”
“I’m not sure it made any difference,” she replied.
“Not if you’re measuring it by how much you can manipulate me,” her father teased.
They stood there for a moment in the stillness of the orchard grove. Emily wished he would say more. Say he was sorry. Tell her he loved her and was proud of her. Explain what truth she deserved to know. All of the things that would have stopped her from running from this place. But her father remained quiet. Emily’s gut churned, and she left her dad to his Macintosh tree.
35
Nick had let Tim hang out in jail for the night, before he interrogated him. And then took his time the next morning going through paperwork and emails and prepping his questions. He wanted Tim to sweat it out a little. When he entered the interrogation room at the police station, Nick found a jittery Tim cuffed to a table. The clerk on the other side of the room started recording the conversation through a sound system wired into a locked room next door.
“Tim Hart, tell me about your job at the stable,” Nick said.
“I dunno. Not much to tell. Hey, so why am I in here?”
“When did you start working at Premiere?” Nick went on, ignoring Tim’s question.
“Gary gave me a job when I got outta jail,” said Tim.
“So, that was about two years ago?”
“I guess so,” said Tim. “Don’t I get an attorney?”
“We can stop right now and get you an attorney, but it may take a day or two, and you’ll just have to sit in jail while we run the process. Is that what you want?”
Tim shrugged. “What was the question?”
“What do you do at Premiere?”
“I’m a groom. I take care of the horses. Feed ’em. Water ’em. Clean up after ’em,” answered Tim. “I like horses.”
“You ride?” Nick asked.
“Yeah. That’s one of the perks of the job. I get to exercise the boarder horses,” said Tim.
“Sounds like a good gig,” Nick said. “You have a favorite horse?”
“They each have their charms,” Tim answered. “Hey, are you keeping me overnight again? Bodum’s expecting me to be at the stables to feed ’em tomorrow morning.”
“He’s been notified,” Nick said. “Did you have any favorite owners?”
“That’s an odd question.”
“Were you keen on any of the owners? Take a liking to any of them?”
“No. They were all fine, I guess. No one really gives you trouble if you do your job,” said Tim.
“What kind of trouble did Julie Dobson give you?”
“Huh? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Tim.
“You did know Julie Dobson, didn’t you?” Nick led in.
Tim looked at Nick and sat up a little.
“Why do you wanna know about her?”
“I just wanna know if you knew her. Did you talk to her? See her? Did she talk to you?” said Nick.
“Well, yeah. She was there every day training,” said Tim.
“What kind of relationship would you say you and Julie Dobson had?”
“I don’t get it. Relationship? Why are you asking me this stuff?”
“Did you harm her horse, Mercedes?”
“I feel like I should have that lawyer here,” said Tim.
“Are you requesting a lawyer be present before we continue?”
“Maybe. I dunno. Should I?”
“I dunno. Should you?”
“I ain’t gonna tell that lawyer anything different than I’m gonna tell you.”
“Then let’s proceed. There’s something I want you to watch,” said Nick, cueing up the GoPro video on his phone. Tim watched it. When it was over, Tim looked away.
“So, is that you?” said Nick.
Tim didn’t answer. Nick raised his voice in a slow, steady manner.
“Is that you in that video?”
Tim shrugged and looked past Nick as if he was seeing something on the other side of the brick wall.
“We found a pair of boots in your trailer that look an awful lot like these ones. Sent them down to the crime lab to get a soil composition comparison.” Nick lowered his voice. “Did you know they can match the exact composition of horse manure to the exact horse that shat it out?”
Tim stared at him.
“Is that you in the GoPro video?”
Tim nodded slightly.
“Say it, Mr. Hart. I need you to say it out loud.”
“Yeah, that’s me,” he said.
“Explain this to me. ’Cause it looks really bad.”
“It was a warning,” said Tim.
“Looks like abuse to me.”
“It was the only way I could get through to Julie and her stupid boyfriend.”
“Why did you need to get through to them? What for?”
“’Cause she had missed a few payments.”
“Payments for what?”
Tim shook his head, “She owed me some money.”
“I need you to say what for,” Nick said.
“Some medication,” Tim said.
“What’s the name of the medication?”
“Ketamine,” Tim replied.
“It’s a horse med, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Where’d you get it?”
“From Bodum’s supply.”
“And to your knowledge, was Julie taking ketamine?
“Yeah.”
“So you were dealing to a minor?”
“She begged me for it. She was breaking under the pressure.”
“Why would you risk your job for her?”
Inside, Nick boiled, but he kept his cool and pressed on with the confession. Tim waffled, his eyes darting away from Nick and scanning the ceiling to the floor. Nick recognized this behavior. Tim was searching for a lie.
“She was nice to me. I liked her.”
“A lot of people are nice. Why would you risk that?” Nick pressed.
“She came from money,” he said. “I thought it would be an easy sale. But then she got behind. Hurting Mercedes was the only way I could get through to Julie. I don’t run no charity.”
“How far behind was she exactly?”
“Eight. Eight hundred.”
Nick gave a low whistle. “That’s seems like a lot, Tim. Were you ever worried she wouldn’t pay you back?”
“Not at first. But then a couple weeks went by, and I started to wonder. She told me she had a plan and not to worry, and I’d have the money by that Thursday.”
“And did she?” said Nick.
“No, she didn’t show up to the stables on Thursday,” said Tim.
“And that’s when you attacked her horse?”
Tim nodded.
“Say it,” Nick demanded.
“Yes. That day. I didn’t know she had a GoPro in the stable,” said Tim.
“Obviously not,” said Nick. Criminals were not usually the sharpest tools in the shed.
“And there were other attacks on Mercedes too. Weren’t there?”
“I don’t get where you’re going, buddy.” Tim’s gaze shifted again to the wall.
“Tying his head up. Rollkur? Sound familiar? Who did that?”
“That’s different.” Tim’s voice was agitated.
“How?”
“That wasn’t about the payments.”
“What was it about?”
“The senator. He paid me to do those things to Mercedes so he would perform better,” Tim blurted out. “Had nothing to do with the money Julie owed me.”
Nick couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
“You’re telling me Senator Dobson, Julie’s father, hired you to harm Mercedes?”
“Happens a lot. It’s a cheat tactic.”
“How?”
“It helps stretch their heads so they can achieve hyperflexation in dressage.”
Julie was a great equestrian. Why would he need her and Mercedes to cheat? Nick was scrambling to make some sense of this.
“He threatened to send me back to jail if I said anything,” said Tim. “I hated doing it. Mercedes is a good animal. Once Julie discovered Mercedes was being tortured, she was hell bent on finding out who done it.”
Nick was sickened by what he was hearing. What kind of parent would do this to their child?
“What about the morning of Julie’s death. Did you see her then?”
“Wait a minute, man. I know what you’re doing here, and I didn’t kill Julie Dobson,” Tim said with flaring anger. “Don’t pin this on me.”
“We found her bracelet in your dresser drawer.” Nick laid the bracelet on the table between them. “I did a little research, and judging by the quality of the metal and the number of charms, it’s worth almost a thousand dollars. So, how did this get into your possession?”
Tim looked down at the table, his eyes tracing a pattern in the wood grain. He blinked a few times and fixed a steady gaze on Nick.
“I didn’t kill Julie Dobson,” he insisted.
“This looks bad for you, Tim. Real bad. Especially since we know Julie was wearing it when she was found.”
Nick could tell Tim’s fear was growing by the way he started bouncing his knee under the table. “Look, don’t make this harder for yourself. Just tell me what happened that morning.”
“I was at home working on my truck with a friend,” Tim told him.
“What’s your friend’s name?” Nick asked.
“Jason Settman. He lives next door. I got to work late that day because my truck wouldn’t start, and Jason and I had to replace the battery. He’ll tell ya,” Tim said. Nick recalled what Gary Bodum had said about Tim being late and claiming vehicle troubles as the excuse.
“Okay. But that still doesn’t explain why you had Julie’s bracelet,” said Nick. “Did you have someone else kill Julie?”
“Of course not.”
“But it seems like you’re capable. I mean, you abuse horses,” Nick said.
Tim wouldn’t answer.
Nick pounded his fist on the table next to the bracelet. “How did you get this? Get your story straight now! Save yourself a lot of trouble and jail time down the road.”
“When I got to the stables, Farmer Gibbons had already discovered Julie’s body. He and Gary were calling the cops about it, and I went outside to get a look at her. I couldn’t believe it. I saw Julie lying there, and my first thought was that I’d never get that eight hundred back.”
Tim paused. Nick knew he was close and kept silent. “I know that’s a crappy thing to think about someone who’s dead. But there it is, ya know? She owed me.”
Nick nodded and kept his attention lasered on Tim. He kept silent, hoping Tim would offer more to his confession.
“I knew that bracelet was worth a couple hundred.”
“And then what?” Nick asked.
“I swiped it off her wrist. I was gonna wait ’til the dust settled and then pawn it,” Tim said.
Scumbag. How did those cops in the big cities deal with people like Tim day in and day out? Never a break from the ugliness of human depravity.
“Okay. We’re done here,” said Nick.
“You’re releasing me?”
“No, now you go back to jail. You’re not off the hook for selling drugs and stealing personal property.” Nick got up and left the room. Another officer came in and took Tim back to his holding cell. Nick gathered a few things from his office. He wasn’t inclined to believe a word of Tim’s story until he could cross-check his alibi with Jason Settman. And now he also had a bone to pick with Senator Dobson.
36
When Emily left her father in his orchard, she went straight to the attached garage off the east side of her family home. This was where her father had built his practice some twenty-five years prior. She entered via the patient entrance, which opened into the front room of the three-room structure. It was a tidy waiting area with seating for about six persons, end tables, magazines, and a toy box. Beyond that was the administrative area, where Dad kept the files, computer, and copy machine. A part-time receptionist/nurse/office manager staffed the small desk and kept the business running smoothly so Robert could focus on patient needs. The largest room was in back, the examination area where Robert saw patients and performed very minor surgical procedures when needed. It was organized and sterile in accordance with health codes. Emily felt a sadness as she realized that soon this space would be emptied, and its items would belong to a new doctor. What seemed even worse was that he and his family would be moving into her childhood home. Despite her mixed feelings about this place, it hurt to think she would never be able to be in the same rooms where she had once lived with her mother and father.
Emily decided to start by inventorying the file room. It would take the longest and require the most energy. The biggest task in the office was the thirty-five years of patient and medical examiner files stacked in boxes that lined floor-to-ceiling bookcases. Before she could properly store each box, the files needed to be scanned and saved electronically, then the originals sealed in an envelope and mailed to each patient.
Emily groaned as she looked around the room. Quick calculations told her there had to be several thousand files. She set a goal of three boxes for the day and decided to start at the top and work her way down. She had to use a ladder to get the top shelf of boxes down. She opened the first box and started scanning the contents. After several hours, Emily had completed only one box. She felt the job would be insurmountable for her to complete on her own. She would let her dad know that he needed to hire out some help, or perhaps this was a light enough task that he could continue it on his own after she left. At least it would give him something to do.
She decided to put the finished box in the back storeroom. She unlocked the door, turned on the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and started to move things around to make room for the new box. On the top of a shelf, there was one long, white box that drew her curiosity. She reached for it, expecting it to be heavy. The box turned out to be light and slid into her arms. She lifted it down, gasping at what she saw. Through the thick, clear plastic on top of the box, she could see her mother’s wedding dress, perfectly preserved.
She didn’t dare unseal it. Emily stood there under the bright beam of the bulb, staring at the beading on the bodice of the puffy-sleeved gown, a classic mid-80s style with a V-shaped waist. She knew from the photographs that the full skirt billowed atop a hoop slip.
The size tag read four. Emily was taller and broader than her mother had been. At a size eight, she wouldn’t be able to wear the dress, but wondered if she could borrow from it if she could find a seamstress to create something unique and meaningful for her. Brandon’s mom might throw a fit that she wasn’t going the designer route. How would his mother be able to brag to her friends about the dress? And Jo might be disappointed at first that they couldn’t do the whole wedding dress shopping bit. But Emily didn’t care. On her wedding day, she would be wrapped in her mother’s presence and love.
Needing a break, Emily set the dress aside and went into the house for a cup of tea. She found her father napping in his recliner. In the sink were a dozen apples he had picked. Emily quietly prepared her tea, washed an apple, and headed back to the office.
Emily sunk her teeth into the fresh fruit. It was delicious. Sweet, crisp. And full of way more flavor than those tasteless organic apples she overpaid for from the health food store in the city. Emily opened the second box of files. Instead of finding a row of manila patient files, the box was half empty. In several envelopes she found county contracts for each year of her father’s medical examiner work. Several handwritten ledgers tracked the bookkeeping of the ME business. And there was a large, black, hard-cover journal she had never seen before.
