"That's right," he replied.
Elected coroners, I knew, did not have to have any medical background at all. Which was why a medical examiner was preferred. Or the coroner would hire a deputy coroner to handle all things medical. It was extremely rare these days to have someone in this office who didn't have medical expertise.
"Do you have a medical background, Pete?" I asked.
"I do." He got up and walked over to a sideboard, returning with a framed diploma from something called ABC Medical Tech Institute.
I stared at the document. "You have a degree as a dental transcriptionist?"
"Yes, that's right," he answered.
"An associate's degree…to type up the dentist's notes," I clarified.
He nodded as if that made perfect sense. "Exactly."
Pete handed me a campaign flyer from 2010. Pete Oroner for Coroner! The Name Says It All!
Oh. My. God. "You've based your campaign on the fact that the job is the same as your name?"
He looked at me as if I'd lost my mind. I was afraid I might have. "It takes a little more than being a dental transcriptionist, of course."
I asked the next most logical question. "So you have a deputy coroner with a real medical background, then?"
"Nope." He rocked back in his chair. "Never saw a need for it myself."
"Pete, with no background in anatomy or forensics, how are you able to do your job?" I couldn't help asking. The investigation had given way to curiosity now.
He rubbed his chin. "Well, I watch a lot of forensics shows on TV."
I tried to process this intel without yelling at the man. Soo Jin, our medical examiner back home, would've been rendered speechless. She was a doctor and a pathologist and had all the qualifications necessary to do her job. Add to that the fact that I was getting angry that the manner of Aunt June's death had been dismissed by this complete rube. But, I didn't want to alienate him like I had the sheriff, and I really needed to see that file.
"Okay, good enough for me," I lied.
Pete grinned. "You get it! A lot of folks don't. But you see, this isn't such a dangerous county. We haven't had a murder here in all the years I've been coroner."
How many murders had taken place in this county, only to have Pete mislabel them as accidents? Oh sure, I knew that the truth was often stranger than fiction. We'd had all kinds of strange things happen back home that were thought to be murders but were actually accidents, including a story of a woman killed by her own llama…on accident. But to label each and every death as an accident, when the odds were that some were murders, was dangerous.
Maybe I'd come back here with Soo Jin some day and look into Pete's record. But right now, I needed answers.
"That's wonderful!" I mustered up the enthusiasm to match the words. "It's sad that people don't understand that."
Pete nodded and walked over to the same sideboard, pulling a file that he slapped down on the table. It was labelled Aunt June. My worthless sucking up might be rewarded after all.
"You see…" He opened it. "Some people might look at this and think there was some foul play."
He was pointing to a close-up of two tiny fang marks. "Now most people wouldn't see those on her neck like that. It took a fine eye and razor-sharp mind to see that, know that she had spiders, and put two and two together."
Pete sat back in his chair. His expression was complete smugness. He wasn't concerned that any normal person would think it odd that he had an AA in dentistry transcription. In his mind, he was a forensic genius.
But for the moment, I needed to look at that file. "That's so fascinating! I've always been interested in stuff like this."
Talking about yourself as if you are a low-grade idiot was a unique talent as a spy. It was difficult for most agents to put themselves down. Self-importance and a substantial ego were the traits of most people who went into the CIA.
I, however, could make myself look absolutely clueless when I needed to. The bad guys don't often confess to someone smart, but they can't hold back bragging about their genius if they think you're ignorant. You wouldn't believe how far a little flattery goes when the person you're complimenting thinks you aren't very smart. I once conned a Saudi Prince out of a Fabergé egg filled with microfiche because I giggled and clapped and said it was pretty.
Pete droned on. "It is interesting work. But in this case, it was pretty cut and dry. There were no other marks on the body but these, and there was a squashed brown recluse right next to her. Any genius could figure it out."
"Astounding." I gaped—more for the fact he thought he was a genius than for what he'd said. "Where was the body found?"
"First floor in the main hallway, a few feet from the front door," Pete answered my question without hesitation. "I estimated that she'd been dead for about ten hours before she was discovered."
"From the rigor mortis?" I winced inwardly. I was clueless, remember? "That's what they always say on those shows."
The man patted my hand. "Of course. You're just an amateur, but you're not wrong. By the way, I'm afraid I should've said earlier that I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." I was torn. Did I tip my hand and say the same to him? Or would that scare him off? I definitely wanted to milk the sympathy angle, so I didn't tell him I knew nothing about her. "Did you know her?"
"I did, in fact. She and I were old friends." He winked.
An idea flashed through my mind. "She said in her last letter that she was sort of seeing someone."
Pete smiled broadly. "That makes me happy. I wondered if she'd told the family about me. I didn't want to say anything to intrude. It
