The Coroner, page 22
“Is this where you keep all of your equipment?” asked Nick.
“It is. Picks, rasps, knives, nippers. All here.” Gary pointed to the panel, bolted to the wall, where the tools hung in an orderly manner above the workbench. They looked much like the instruments she had seen at Dr. Lillen’s stable.
Emily’s gaze went to the collection of nippers on the pegboard. She studied each one, mentally comparing it to the image Delia had shown her. None of them were a match.
“You ever collect any antique tools?” Emily asked.
“No. Why would I do that? Those old things are a pain in the butt to use.”
“Nothing’s gone missing that you know of?” asked Nick.
“Not that I’ve noticed.” Emily could tell this line of questioning was putting Bodum on edge. “Should there be something missing?”
“You don’t have any in your office or at home? In your truck?” Nick kept at him.
“Sherriff, I’m not dim. You think Julie was killed with one of these tools?”
“I really can’t answer that, Gary.”
Emily pulled on a workbench drawer, but it was locked.
“Can you please unlock this?” she asked him.
“I wish you could tell me what’s going on here.” Bodum said as he reached for a set of keys in his pocket and unlocked the drawer. There was nothing of note in the drawer either, and Nick told him he could relock it.
“Listen, there’s nothing more in here for you to look at,” said Bodum, his voice rising. “I’d like for you both to leave. I have a lot of work to do.”
Nick stepped back. She guessed they had crossed some legal line by the way Nick gently pulled her toward him. “We appreciate your cooperation. Thank you for your time, Gary.”
“Next time, come with a search warrant,” said Bodum, and he made sure they walked out first. He locked the workshop doors. “You can leave through the side door.” He pointed to the right. Emily flanked Nick as they walked toward the exit, with Bodum followed a few steps behind. Emily felt Bodum’s eyes on them until they got into Nick’s truck and drove off.
Disappointment permeated Emily’s mood as they drove back into town. Haystack number one was a bust. It would have been way too easy anyway, she told herself. Maybe Nick was right. This could take a lifetime. They needed a stronger lead.
“I think I’ll drive down to Rock River and pay a visit to Vince Parelli,” said Nick. “Wanna come along?”
Emily checked the time. It was late morning, and she did want to come along, but … “I promised Cathy I would be over to help her pack up more office files.”
“Okay,” said Nick, the excitement dropping from his voice. “I’ll drop you at Delia’s to get your car.”
But Emily wasn’t ready to give up the hunt or more time with Nick. “Wait. I’ll tell her I’m doing something case related and that I’ll come by this afternoon.”
Nick smiled at her as he turned the car around to head south toward Rock River.
She quickly texted Cathy that she would be there later. Just as Emily slid her phone back into her purse, a text pinged. She yanked her phone out to check.
“What?” she voiced at the screen.
“Everything okay?” said Nick, accelerating on the state highway.
Emily reread the text: I’m at the Pennington. Surprise!
“Is it your dad? Do we need to turn around?” Nick asked.
“It’s Brandon. He’s in Freeport.”
Emily saw Nick’s face fall as he slowed the truck and pulled into the nearest driveway to turn back to Freeport. And she knew for certain. Delia was right.
42
Nick dropped Emily off at the Inn and was headed out of town, toward Rock River, when something told him to stop off at Bishop’s Funeral Home, where Julie’s funeral was taking place.
Once he arrived, Nick parked the patrol car in the back corner of the parking lot and waited. He wanted to go in, but the pressure he felt from not yet having solved the case, and having to face the entire Freeport community, held him back.
Besides, he could justify being there on investigative grounds. It was a commonly held principle of investigation that sometimes suspects returned to the scene of the crime or attended vigils or a memorial service for their victim. Nick decided to stick around and see if there was anyone there who seemed out of place.
After a while, trickles of people started to emerge. No one caught his attention at first. Then, a family traipsed out, headed by the father, who plodded a few steps ahead of his wife, daughter, and teenage son. Nick didn’t recognize the other three, but the son was definitely Vince Parelli, Julie’s main competitor. They had come to him. How ironic and opportune.
Nick jumped out of his car and approached them. He introduced himself, and they willingly agreed to speak with him about Julie. He escorted them around the back, where there was a private sitting garden. He wanted to make sure they would be out view of the other funeral-goers.
“I understand you competed with Julie?” Nick said, and Vince nodded. “Tell me about that.”
Vince looked to his father for approval to speak.
“Go ahead, son,” said Mr. Parelli.
“Not much to tell. We competed against each other the last couple of years.”
“Were you friends?”
“I guess. I mean, we only saw each other at competitions.”
“I’ve heard the equestrian community is much like a family. It’s nice to see you supporting the Dobson family during this time,” said Nick with a warm smile.
“They were friends,” said Mr. Parelli curtly, taking his wife’s hand.
“I’m sure you’ve heard things about Julie’s death,” said Nick. “What have you heard?” Vince looked at his dad again. Nick found it a bit odd.
“We don’t live around here, Sheriff. We live about an hour away,” responded Mr. Parelli.
“Gossip travels,” said Nick.
“We own an organic farm. Vince was working the fields the morning Julie was killed,” said Vince’s mother. “We were all so shocked to hear about it.”
“I see,” said Nick. “Were you all working the farm that morning?”
The little sister piped up proudly, “My job is to gather the eggs.”
“That’s right, honey,” said Mr. Parelli. “And mother was making us a healthy breakfast.”
“That’s right,” added Mrs. Parelli. “If you’re looking for fresh organic produce, we do the farmer’s market every Saturday in Rockwall Square.”
“Good to know,” said Nick. He noticed Vince dart his gaze to the ground. His left foot was making small circles in the dirt. He’s nervous about something, thought Nick.
“What’s your job, Vince?” asked Nick, trying to draw Vince out of himself.
Vince didn’t look up. “Weeding and picking.”
“What do you grow over there at the farm?”
“Everything.” Vince didn’t lift his eyes.
“He’s pretty broke up about the Dobson girl,” said Mr. Parelli. “You got anymore questions for us? We’ve got goats and cows need milking.”
“No, sir. Thank you for your time.” Nick rose to shake Vince’s hand. “And Vince, I’m very sorry for the loss of your friend.” Mr. Parelli led his family out the garden gate, but Nick stayed behind. The whole interaction had felt stiff and unnatural. Nick believed that Mr. Parelli’s controlling nature was probably the source of quite a few underlying problems in that family. However, there was certainly no indication that Vince had anything to do with Julie’s death. Mr. Parelli had Vince pressed under his thumb. Nick was sure that Vince was working those fields during the time of Julie’s murder. Yet, something was still off about the whole conversation.
As Nick drove away from the funeral home, his discouragement over the case grew. Any possible clue was dissipating before his eyes. He begin to doubt, really doubt, that he could solve this case. And now that Brandon was in town, Emily’s focus would turn to him. And to her father. And rightly so. She had gone above and beyond.
Nick pulled into his driveway. He usually loved coming home to sit on his deck and look out over the lake as he sorted through the events of the day. But right now, he dreaded facing his empty house.
43
Emily rushed over to the Pennington and found Brandon waiting for her in the lobby with a ginormous bouquet of red roses and towering white stargazer lilies. He handed her the flowers and greeted her with a long kiss.
“Why didn’t you call?” chided Emily softly after his lips left hers.
“When you didn’t text me back, I thought, this is ridiculous. Why am I not up in Freeport with my bride-to-be? And I figure being here will help me get to know you better. So, here I am,” he said, going in for another kiss.
“I’m glad you’re here. We need to talk. Face-to-face. Not like teenagers over text.”
“Agreed.” After Brandon let go of her, he took a good look at Emily and said, “There’s a whole ’nother shade to the dark circles under your eyes that I’ve never seen before.”
Emily laughed a little. “Is that your professional medical assessment of me?”
“You always look great to me.”
“I’m exhausted,” she admitted. “I wish you woulda warned me, though. I could have at least tried a little.”
“I decided not to stress you out by planning some big visit,” he said and drew her in for a hug.
His embrace melted her and all the stress she was shouldering.
“What about Dr. Claiborne and the research?” she whispered.
“He got called into emergency surgery.”
She drew away and cradled her gorgeous bouquet, drawing in a deep breath of the lilies. “These are so beautiful. Thank you.”
“What do you think of them for wedding flowers? Red. White. Christmasy, yet elegant. Maybe with some pine greens and cedar.” She knew she should be grateful for his help. So many brides’ fiancés skated by, doing only the bare minimum when it came to wedding plans. But she was having a hard time mustering up excitement for wedding talk.
“I like them. You have good taste,” she said.
“Okay, I admit, they’re not my idea,” he said. “I mean getting you the flowers was, but the whole wedding theme—no.”
“Your mom?” Emily asked, raising her brow in suspicion.
“Well, yes. Sort of. She suggested a florist.”
“You already picked our florist?”
“I stopped by the Palmer House to put down a deposit, and the florist was just a couple bocks away. And since I was going to bring you flowers anyhow, one thing led to another, and I ended up with this bouquet.”
“You put down a deposit?” Emily was still stuck on the Palmer House.
“You never texted back, but I know how much you love the Palmer House—”
“For drinks or dinner, yes.” Emily felt the stress tighten in her gut. “Don’t you have to have a date to put down a deposit?”
“I picked the date that was closest to Christmas, and actually, it was the only date available at the Palmer.”
“So, when are we getting married?” The question felt like it was pinched out of her throat. Was this how getting smothered felt like?
“Saturday, December seventeenth,” he said.
“December seventeenth?” she echoed.
“Wow, that’s only the second time I’ve actually said the date out loud.”
“Lemme guess: the first time was to your mom,” Emily said with a displeasing tone.
“Yeah. I called her on the way up. It’s a long haul.”
“So your mom knew before me?”
“I wanted to make sure she knew to cancel the country club. And I wanted to tell you in person.”
He had it all planned out. Emily was sure it made sense in his mind, but she was having a hard time adjusting to her life being planned without her. Emily waved her hand at him. It was no use getting mad. She managed to squeak out, “Are there any other plans afoot that I should know about?”
“I reserved the Lake Michigan Room. It’s the one with the brocade curtains and massive chandeliers. And it faces the lake. Hence the name. The wedding coordinator told me that at that time of year, it will be decorated with three fifteen-foot Christmas trees.”
“It sounds beautiful,” she said. “There’s just one thing. We already have a wedding coordinator.”
“Oh, we do?”
“Yeah. My friend Jo wants to help.”
“Jo that up until a week ago hadn’t spoken to you in, like, ten years?”
“Yes. That Jo. We’ve sort of rekindled our friendship this week.”
Brandon looked tweaked. “I guess it’s no better or different than hiring a complete stranger.”
“Except she’s not a stranger. She’s a good friend,” said Emily.
“To you. I’ve never met her. Does she have experience in event planning?”
“You’re talking in your doctor-giving-a-grave-prognosis voice.”
“Fine. Fine,” Brandon said, lifting his tone. “As long as she gets along with my mom,” he added.
“Why?”
“Because they’re going to be spending a lot of time together on the planning.”
“They are?”
“Em, the train has left that station, and it’s traveling at full speed. We’re gonna need all the help we can get. And Jo doesn’t live in Chicago.”
Emily wanted to scream and pull the emergency brake.
“We should probably figure out our guest list this weekend because I’m concerned the Lake Michigan Room won’t be big enough,” said Brandon.
“How big is it?” asked Emily.
“It only seats four hundred.”
“Four—zero—zero?” Emily gaped. “Do we know that many people?”
“My parents do,” he replied. “They’re already complaining because they have to figure out who to leave off the list.”
Of course they are. They know everyone. Her throat was pinching closed again, and she took a couple of deep breaths and a few steps toward the couches in the lobby. As Brandon helped her sit, her flowers spread over her lap.
“My dad said he wanted to pay for the reception as a gift to us. But I don’t think he was expecting to feed a small army brigade.”
“My mom’s already deposited thirty grand into my account. Have your dad pay what he can, and we’ll get the rest.”
“Thirty grand!” She gasped in shock.
“And there’s another thirty coming,” said Brandon.
Emily tried to hide her sticker shock. They could buy a couple of new cars or a small house in Freeport with that sum. And she knew that “paying what he can” would not sit well with her father. He didn’t want to be some silent partner writing a check. He would want to be part of his daughter’s wedding.
“Maybe Christmas is too soon. I don’t even know if my dad will be well enough by then to make it down.” She didn’t mean to make her father the excuse for her cold feet. But it just came out.
“He’ll be fine. And we can do this. We have plenty of help.” Brandon broke into a confident smile. “And we can always get him a nurse or attendant if he needs help.”
Emily closed her eyes and drew in another deep breath of her roses as she tried to center herself. She calculated today’s date from December 17th. So much to do in just eighty-four days! A dress to create. Four hundred invites to send! Her father’s house to sell. A practice to transfer. And a case to solve. Emily’s thoughts drifted to Nick. She wondered how his visit with the Parellis was going. She caught herself wishing to be in his truck right now and immediately berated herself. How could that even cross her mind as she was sitting here with Brandon, planning her wedding day?
Her eyes popped opened, and she saw Brandon was no longer looking at her, but checking his text.
“Mom wonders how you liked the flowers.” Brandon snapped a photo of Emily covered in stems. “I’ll send her this.”
“I wasn’t even smiling,” said Emily.
“You’re adorable.” He texted the picture to his mom.
“Why is it so important to try to please your mother all the time?” Emily blurted out.
Brandon gave her a puzzled looked. “I want to please you too.”
“Do you have to tell them everything?”
“We’re just close. That’s what real family looks like, Em.”
The comment stung sharply. And it wasn’t the first time he’d made her feel bad for not having a good relationship with her dad. But come to think of it, what did a good relationship really look like? In the past few days, she had given little thought to Brandon and his activities in Chicago. She didn’t know how his surgeries had gone or what the topic of his paper was even about. And conversely, he had not taken the time to talk with her at any depth about her father’s conditions, the Dobson case, or how she was getting along up here in Freeport. Had they both been too busy, or too selfish, to take care of their relationship?
“Would you like to meet my father?” she asked him.
Brandon looked up from his phone. “I can’t wait.”
44
Cathy and Robert were out in the yard when Emily and Brandon pulled up.
“He looks trustworthy. Doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would want to hurt you,” Brandon said. Emily gave him the evil eye. “I’m kidding. I’m kidding,” he hastened to say.
“Are you nervous?” she asked him.
“Not too bad. Should I be?”
“We’ll see,” Emily said, her index finger poking at his ribs.
“Hey. I’m serious. What if he doesn’t like me?”
“Then, he’ll let you know.” Emily winked at him and jumped out of the car. Brandon scrambled to follow her.
“Dad, Cathy. This is Brandon Taylor. My fiancé,” she announced. Robert dove right in with a strong handshake. Cathy stepped in with a warm hug.
“Welcome to the family,” she said.
“Well, not so fast. They aren’t married yet,” Robert corrected.
“Sorry to hear about your recent health scare,” Brandon said.
