The Coroner, page 9
Emily looked at Delia in amazement.
“You got all that from my ring?”
“I’ve been reading people for a living for over thirty years,” Delia said with a wry smile.
“Spot on.” Emily stuffed her mouth with another bit of bear claw. There was something annoying about how well Delia could still read her after all these years. And something comforting. She wasn’t sure which one to give in to at the moment.
“His name’s Brandon Taylor.”
“Mrs. Brandon Taylor. Has a good solid sound to it,” she said, smiling.
“Dr. Emily Hartford-Taylor,” Emily corrected.
“Much better. Forgive me. I’m the old guard. Never had to deal with that name-change nonsense.”
There was a knock at the front door, and Delia peeped behind the shade. Recognizing the person on the other side, she unlocked the door, and a teenage girl entered.
“Good morning, Sadie. Emily, this is Sadie. My barista in training. Sadie this is Dr. Emily Hartford. She used to live here in Freeport.”
“Hi,” said Sadie with a small voice. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too. Is this your first day?”
“Third.”
“You’ll do great. Delia’s a lot of fun.”
“Don’t give her the impression we don’t work around here,” Delia teased. “Sadie, let’s get you settled. Come with me.” Delia ushered Sadie into the kitchen, which gave Emily a moment to quickly check her news app for any more leaks on the Dobson case. She searched for her name. A video link popped up from just minutes before in front of the bakery. Relief washed over her when she saw that they had assembled her comments in a fairly harmless manner. But Emily was mortified to realize how unattractive she had looked on camera, and vowed to be more vigilant about combing her hair and slathering on a coat of lip gloss before she went out in public. While she was waiting for Delia to return, it suddenly struck her: Sadie was in high school. Did she know Julie?
After a moment, Delia returned from the kitchen with Sadie. “Okay, make two espressos and an Americano. Go.”
Delia hung back at Emily’s table.
“She’s a quick learner. Thank goodness. Some of these kids from Gen Z are absolutely helpless. And clueless. All stems from that helicopter parenting.” Delia shook her head.
“Delia, can I ask Sadie some questions about Julie?”
Delia smiled. “See what I told you about this job? Window to the world.”
Emily stepped up to the espresso maker. “Sadie, so what year are you now?”
“Junior.”
“Did you know Julie Dobson?”
“She was a year ahead of me.”
“Sure. Did you have any classes with her?”
“We had computer class together.”
“Did anything seem wrong with Julie lately? Was she depressed or acting differently?”
“What? Why? Did Julie kill herself?” Sadie asked, darting her eyes up at Emily.
“Oh. No. That’s not what I’m implying. No. I just mean, had anything big changed in her life lately?”
“Well, she broke up with her boyfriend, David.”
“Do you know why?”
“Everyone knew why. Her father hated David.”
“That’s why she did it?”
“I guess so. Everyone’s saying her father forced her to break it off. But I kept seeing them at school together, so I don’t know.”
Delia smiled and raised her cup to Sadie. “These are delicious, Sadie. Try a latte this time. Remember, one-third steamed milk. Em, you need a refill?”
“No, thanks. I gotta get going. A lot to tackle today.”
“Tell your father I said hello and that I’ll stop by later today to visit,” said Delia.
“I will.”
Emily slung her purse over her head and reached into it for her lip gloss. She swabbed the wand over her lips with a deliberation that expressed she was ready to forge battle with outside media forces should they attack. She started for the front door.
“Em, back door.”
“Oh, yeah.” Emily turned and saw Delia pointing through the kitchen.
“Here, I’ll show you,” she said.
Emily followed Delia through the kitchen, and Delia unlocked the back door that led into the alley. She peeked outside through the peephole. “Coast looks clear.”
Emily grabbed the door handle and turned the knob. Delia set her hand over Emily’s.
“Have you forgiven him yet?”
Emily rubbed her bottom lip over her top one, smearing the gloss above the upper lip line. Underneath her teeth were clenched together. Why was Delia bringing this up?
“Maybe now’s a good time?” said Delia, raising her hand off Emily’s. “Don’t wait too long.”
“Did he ever consult with you on her case?” Emily said.
“No.”
“Roads were clear. Visibility was clear. No other cars around. Nothing wrong with the vehicle. Didn’t you ever question—”
“Of course. But accidents do happen. I’ve seen it hundreds of times. And there’s nothing your dad could have done to change that.”
Emily handed Delia a twenty-dollar bill.
“The bear claw was amazing, Delia. Make sure Sadie gets a good tip, okay?”
She pushed the door open and stepped out of Brown’s Bakery, disappointed to know that Delia was just one more person that swept it under the rug.
14
The news van had vacated, so thankfully, Emily was able to steal back to her car two blocks away, unnoticed. Before heading to the hospital, Emily wanted to make sure she could get a room for the night, so she drove a few miles down Main Street to the Pennington Inn and checked in. The Pennington had a homey, country-inn feel and was the only hotel in Freeport other than a skeezy track motel that attracted hunters and truckers and rent-by-hours.
She dragged her luggage up to the second floor and collapsed into the soft, down, king-size bed. She craved more sleep. But as soon she felt her eyelids droop, she forced herself up. Come on. Keep going. Pretend you’re making rounds. You can do this!
Emily splashed cold water on her face, brushed her teeth, and jumped in her car, arriving at the hospital ten minutes later.
She requested her father’s chart from a nurse and stood outside his room reading it. In the last twelve hours, her father’s health had showed little improvement. If he wanted to get better and live longer, his whole life would have to change. Medications and diet changes would stabilize him. Several months in a rehab facility would strengthen him and return him to a semi-full life. But strenuous work like investigating deaths and doing autopsies was definitely out of the question. Forever. Dr. Robert Hartford didn’t know it yet, but he had just entered a forced retirement.
Emily made her way into his room and saw that he was perched up in his bed with a spread of newspapers. A TV news report coming from the wall-mounted flat screen held his attention.
“Good morning,” she said.
“Hello. Shh,” he said, pressing his finger over his lips.
“What’s so important that—”
“Shh … It’s Nick.” He pointed to the screen.
Emily turned her attention to the monitor. On screen, the news station ran footage from the previous night when Nick was fielding questions from the hospital parking lot.
“In follow-up news from the untimely death of Freeport equestrian star Julie Dobson, we learned last night, through Freeport County Sheriff Nick Larson, that it is likely her death was accidental,” said the reporter.
Why is he speculating like that? Is he trying to mislead them?
“We’re awaiting an autopsy report from Dr. Emily Hartford, who is apparently filling in for her father, Dr. Robert Hartford, Freeport’s medical examiner, who recently suffered a severe heart attack.”
“They tried to come after me at Brown’s Bakery.”
“Vultures,” Dr. Hartford muttered, clicking off the TV. Emily noticed a stack of reading material in front of her dad.
“Did Cathy bring you all this?” she asked.
“Yeah, so I wouldn’t get bored. I told her I’m gonna be outta here this afternoon. There’s no time to get bored,” he said.
“You think so, huh? What did your cardiologist say?”
“He hasn’t been by yet, but I expect him anytime,” replied her father.
“You don’t look very rested,” she said, noticing the dark rings under his eyes.
“Who sleeps well in a hospital?” he said. “You don’t look so wide-eyed either. Cathy said you slept at the house last night … or rather this morning.”
“I did. But I got a room at the Pennington for tonight,” she said.
“No need to waste your money.”
When her dad started talking finances, Emily knew it best to change the subject. He was a spendthrift and ran his entire practice and the medical examiner business this way. He didn’t believe in overcharging patients or bilking county taxpayers for coroner’s office expenses. One thing was for sure: they had definitely never been one of those wealthy doctor’s families like she met in Brandon’s circles. She had never thought much about money, and quite frankly, dwelling on it made her uncomfortable, especially when Brandon talked boldly about what kind of salary expectations he had and the diversity of investments he wanted to make in his future. He was bent on making a fortune and being generous with his fortune. There was nothing wrong with that, of course. She just didn’t have experience with the kind of wealth Brandon was used to.
“I ran into Delia. She says she’s stopping by to visit later.”
“She’d better hurry.”
“Dad, prepare for the fact that you may be stuck in here for a little while,” she said as Robert noticed his chart tucked under her arm.
“Everyone keeps telling me that, but based on what proof? Let’s wait for the test results before you condemn me to a hospital bed.”
“The EKG confirmed your heart attack. The others tests are just going to tell us how bad it was and what you need to do from here,” Emily said.
“What does that file say? The one you’re trying to hide there,” he replied.
“I’m not trying to hide anything. Don’t worry about it for now,” Emily answered.
“May I see it, please?” Robert asked.
“Your doctor will go over it with you when he gets here,” said Emily.
“Emily Ann Hartford, give me that file,” Robert said. “And my reading glasses.”
First and middle name calling was a serious matter, so Emily passed over the file and the glasses. There was no use trying to fight him. She would have done the same thing if she were in his shoes. There was no putting the wool over a doctor’s eyes.
Robert glanced over the file with an emotionless expression. After he had digested the entire chart, he passed it back to her and took off his glasses. He rested his head against the pillow and stared across the room. Emily saw some of the life drain from his face. It was upsetting to see him grow a little older right before her eyes.
“What are you thinking?” Emily finally asked him.
“Lunch and vitals, Dr. Hartford!” said the day nurse, barreling in with a tray.
Emily kept silent as she did her job.
“Your cardiologist is running a bit behind. Should be here after three. Enjoy your meal. And ring me if you need anything, okay?” She returned the blood pressure machine to its place on the wall and marched out.
Robert took one look at the dry turkey slice, soupy mashed potatoes, and melting jello and pushed the tray aside.
“Shut the door.”
Emily did so.
“What did you find on that Dobson girl?” Robert asked.
“Brain trauma, fractured skull,” Emily replied.
“Yeah, that’s consistent with what I found too,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“I snuck down to the morgue last night,” he said.
“You did what?”
“Did you notice the double fracture lines on the skull?”
“Dad, you shouldn’t have gotten out of bed.”
“Freeport has a homicide on its hands,” Robert said. “What’s being done about it?”
“Nick’s got this. You need to rest.”
“I remember that Dobson girl. She rides this magnificent creature named Mercedes. She’s been riding him since he was a colt. They grew up together, you could say. I just don’t have any idea who would want to kill her. It doesn’t make sense. Does Nick have any leads? Any evidence?” asked Robert, his brow furrowing.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t talked to him since I gave him the autopsy report.”
“Have you been out to the scene?”
“What? No. Of course not,” she said. “I’ve barely even had time to sleep since I got here.”
“I want you to head over to Premiere stables and do some scene recreation so you can be sure your estimations of the attack will hold up in court,” he said.
“But I wouldn’t even know where to start,”
“I’m sure you remember more than you think. And I can coach you. It’s of utmost importance that you comb the area for any missed evidence.”
“Nothing I find now will be court admissible.”
“Maybe not, but it’ll give you and Nick some more clues as to the person who did this,” he said.
“Oh no,” she corrected. “I’ve done my job. Nick can do his.”
“I’m asking you, as consulting death investigator for my office; will you please look into this a little more?”
“Dad, this isn’t why I came to Freeport.”
“You came to help me, right? And this is what I need,” he insisted.
“The sheriff’s department is taking care of it.” Emily couldn’t state it more plainly.
“Nick’s got great instincts, but let’s face it. How many homicides do we get in Freeport County? Visit the scene,” said Robert.
Emily sighed as a text came in on her phone. It was Nick.
Arriving hospital in five. Pick you up by emergency doors.
“It’ll take you fifteen minutes max to go over there and check things out,” Robert said.
“Dad, it’s not doing your health any good to work yourself up about this,” Emily said.
“Emily, soon the Dobsons will be pleading with you: ‘Who did this to our daughter?’ And you’ll have to ask yourself, ‘Have I done everything in my power to give them justice?’ ”
Emily paused for a moment as his words tapped into a deeply seeded pain between them.
She wanted to push back: Why didn’t you do everything you could for Mom’s case? And since you couldn’t do it yourself, why didn’t you hire an investigator?
Emily managed to hold back, but her thoughts came out instead as “I don’t think you’re going to have a future as an ME anymore. You need to consider moving into a rehab facility.”
“Is this your assessment or my doctor’s?” Robert’s voice sounded pinched.
“But I can tell by your charts that—”
“I have my own rehab plans,” Dad said. “Cathy.”
“So I understand,” said Emily.
Robert’s eyes flickered up to meet Emily’s. “I called you a month before the wedding. I wanted you to know. But what was I supposed to do when you never called me back?”
“You could have left a more detailed message. Something along the lines of ‘I’m getting married,’ ” she said.
“I don’t need my daughter’s approval.”
Robert’s neck started to turn red, and Emily worried that her conversation with him was raising his blood pressure. She certainly didn’t want to be the cause for sending him into another heart attack. She took a deep breath and went into calm, detached doctor mode. She needed to treat her father as she would any one of her patients. “Look, bottom line is that you need professional rehab therapy in order to achieve a greater level of recovery. Cathy cannot provide this for you in the home. It’s best if you start off in a facility better equipped to handle cases like yours.”
“Emily. Stop. I know what you’re doing.” He sat there for a moment, collecting his thoughts while Emily felt like she was twelve again and about to get a chiding for speaking out of turn.
Why had she expected this to be easy? Her dad was as stubborn and strong-willed as he had been twelve years ago. She would speak to Cathy about this. It was no use arguing with him.
“When do I get to meet this fiancé, Mr. Brandon Taylor?” Robert asked. Emily looked up, surprised by the abrupt turn of conversation.
“Don’t worry. He’ll meet with your approval. Not that I’m asking for it,” Emily said.
“I trust your judgment on the matter.”
“He wants to meet you.”
“When’s the date?”
“I’ll keep you posted,” Emily said.
“I suppose you’ll get married in Chicago?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Church wedding?”
“We’re not really church people,” Emily said.
“You used to be,” Robert said. “I’d like to help pay for it.”
“Thanks. We don’t need … we can afford it,” she said.
“You’re my daughter, and I want to help,” he said. Emily sighed and looked away. “Don’t shut me out of this. Please.”
While Emily felt her father still owed her a great deal, it wasn’t a debt that could be paid, or bribed away, through a wedding gift.
“What exactly did you have in mind?” she asked.
“I guess father’s typically pay for the reception, right?”
Emily nodded. “I’ll talk to Brandon about it.”
“Are you interested in having your mother’s dress and veil?” Robert asked her. It jabbed her in the gut. She had never considered it. It seemed so intimate. She hadn’t even known the dress still existed.
“I don’t … know” was all Emily could muster.
“Well, it’s yours if you want it,” Robert said. “I’ve been saving it for you.”
At that moment, Cathy entered, carrying a brown paper grocery bag.
“Emily, hey. I missed you this morning,” she said as she removed the hospital tray and starting stacking food items from the grocery bag in front of Robert.
