Pete had heard this same plea before. From others. Even from Landis. Most of the time he didn’t buy it. Nine years ago, he had. Until he’d been proven wrong.
Five
Zoe crossed to the printer, retrieved the stack of reports and photos from the Elizabeth Landis homicide, and carried them back to Wayne. “Here you go. Hopefully, Franklin will be able to answer any questions you have.”
Wayne thumbed through the pages. “This case predates Doc Abercrombie working here. The pathologist who did the Landis autopsy died a couple of years ago. Franklin’s the only one from the coroner’s office who can offer direct testimony. According to Pete, Franklin had his doubts as to Dustin Landis’ guilt.”
For the second time, footsteps drifted in from the hall, growing louder as they approached. Paulette’s exasperated protests merged with an obnoxious and dismissive male voice. Not Loretta.
Worse.
Dr. Charles Davis appeared in the doorway with Franklin’s secretary on his heels.
“I am so sorry,” Paulette said, her face crimson. “I clearly need to keep the front door locked.”
Davis faced her. “Dear woman, that would be no way to conduct business.”
“No, but it would keep out the riff raff.”
Zoe snickered, which brought an angry stare from the man who’d run against Franklin in the election last fall. And lost. “Don’t worry about it,” she told Paulette. “I’ll take care of Mr. Davis.”
The title drew the reaction Zoe knew it would. “Doctor Davis,” he snapped.
Behind Davis’ back, Paulette winked at Zoe and retreated to the hall.
Zoe shot a look at Wayne, hoping he understood her silent demand. Do. Not. Leave. Then she crossed her arms and faced Davis. “To what do I owe the honor?”
He reached into his inside breast pocket and retrieved a folded document. “I have been retained by Anthony Imperatore, Esquire as an expert witness in the case of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania versus Dustin Landis. As a qualified forensic pathologist, I’ll be testifying for the defense during Mr. Landis’ retrial.” Davis extended the paper to Zoe. “This is a court order. I need all of the coroner’s reports and photos on the case as well as access to x-rays and any blood and tissue samples from the victim.”
Wayne subtly tucked his own copies of those exact records under one arm. Zoe caught the minute twitch of a grin he aimed at her.
She returned to her seat at Franklin’s computer with the records already open on the monitor. “It’s been nine years. Most of the tissue and blood were disposed of long ago.”
“Do you mean to tell me you don’t have microscopic slides? Preserved tissue samples?”
“We have those, although I don’t know what you expect to find. COD was massive brain trauma from a single gunshot wound. There’s no question about how she died. Seems to me, the only thing up for debate is whether the husband pulled the trigger.”
Davis’ face reddened. “I’ll be the judge of that. Are you refusing to cooperate with a judge’s order?”
“Not at all.” Zoe resisted looking at the fresh copies in Wayne’s possession. “I can print out the reports right now. Anything else that’s left is stored over at the hospital. You’ll need to do your examination in our morgue.”
“Excellent.”
She clicked the same buttons as a few moments ago. The printer across the room started whirring. “I have an appointment I need to get to.” She pulled up the calendar on her phone. “When do you want to meet over at the hospital? Tomorrow?”
“I have no intention of making the trip back here when I’ve already given you the court order. Your appointment can wait.”
Losing the election hadn’t made the man any less of a pompous ass. “I’m afraid it can’t.” The appointment could, but not her mother.
“Fine.” He slipped out of his winter coat, which he hung over the back of the second visitor’s chair and took a seat. “You go to your appointment. I’ll wait.”
She looked at Wayne, hoping he’d make some move to escort Davis out. He didn’t. She weighed her choices. Arrive at the dress shop late and face Kimberly’s video chat wrath? Or allow the pathologist to cool his heels unsupervised in Franklin’s office…alone with the computer and all the coroner’s records?
“That won’t be necessary,” Zoe said. Her mother would be a royal pain regardless. Zoe crossed the room to gather the second set of photos and reports. “Let’s get this over with.”
Wayne stood. “I’ll walk over with you and see if Franklin’s up to answering some questions.”
Davis climbed to his feet, eyeing the detective. “What do you mean? If he’s up to answering questions? What’s wrong with Mr. Marshall?”
Zoe glared at Wayne. Franklin didn’t like to publicize his kidney disease. He didn’t want the people he served to doubt his fitness for the job. And he certainly hadn’t wanted to give Davis more ammunition in his failed attempt to stop Franklin’s bid for reelection.
Wayne started to reply, “He had a—”
Before he could say “heart attack,” Zoe stepped between the men and shoved the printouts into Davis’ hands. “I know you’ve heard by now that he has diabetes. His glucose levels got out of whack this morning.” She shot Wayne a shut-up look over her shoulder before facing Davis with a smile. “They’ve hospitalized him to reevaluate his meds.”
The pathologist turned his dark eyes on Wayne, aware there was more to the story and expecting to learn it from the detective. Wayne, however, caught Zoe’s silent cue. He plastered a poker-worthy innocent expression on his face.
Davis shifted his attention to her. “Hmm. Perhaps I’ll stop in and give my best to our county coroner while I’m in town. After I collect and examine my evidence.”
She didn’t dare attempt another nonverbal exchange with Wayne. Giving Davis her biggest fake smile, she said, “You do that.”
He picked up his coat and led the way out of the office.
When Davis vanished into the hall, Zoe glowered at Wayne.
“Don’t
