The Reluctant Coroner By PAUL AUSTIN ARDOIN Pdf book download BOOK ONE OF THE FENWAY STEVENSON MYSTERIES

The Reluctant Coroner By PAUL AUSTIN ARDOIN

BOOK ONE OF THE FENWAY STEVENSON MYSTERIES.

(✍️ This article is collected from this book 📚 (All Credit To Go Real Hero The Author of this book 📖) 🙏 Please buy this book hardcopy from anyway.)

🧾Front Page Of This Book______________

SHE PASSED THE SIGN THAT SAID ESTANCIA 10 MILES AND ARCHED HER BACK,

stretching, then jumped in her seat when the rental truck drifted onto the line

separating Ocean Highway from the shoulder. She set her jaw and turned the

wheel a few degrees counterclockwise. A BMW in the fast lane passed her as if

she were going backward.

The truck’s steering pulled to the right, and it seemed like it had only

worsened during the irritating ride from Seattle. She tightened her grip on the

wheel as the highway began its steady incline up to the crest of the hill, where a

massive industrial complex rose to meet her field of vision. Ablaze with warm

orange lights, the maze of pipes and small towers extended into the sky, steam

rising around it.

She blinked and she was four years old again, in her father’s Range Rover,

seeing the complex lit up in the darkness for the first time.

“Gotham City!” she had screamed from the back seat, pointing delightedly.

“No, Fenway,” Nathaniel Ferris had said, never taking his eyes off the road.

“That’s Daddy’s refinery.”

“You’re Batman,” she said definitively.

“I’m not Batman,” he said, laughing. “But maybe I’m Bruce Wayne. And

Mrs. Wayne expects us home soon. It’s already past your bedtime.”

Fenway shook her head and came back to the present. The Ferris Energy

refinery, constantly spewing gray-brown fumes, was an ugly monstrosity in the

daylight. But at night, the orange lights and the steam and the shadows from the

pipes and antennae and towers created a scene almost as beautiful as the quaint

seaside town eight miles down the coast.

Life had changed so much in the last six weeks. It started with the CLOSED

sign that faced her when she went to work at the clinic. No explanation—she had

to go home and read a tersely worded email to learn the clinic had lost its

funding.

And that same day, her mother took a turn for the worse. She would be gone

in two days.

Fenway accepted the first offer on her mother’s house and moved most of

her things into storage. Then, three weeks before her trip in the rental truck,

tiring of applying for jobs and for apartments at the same time, she was sitting at

her PC reading a rejection email when her phone rang.

It showed an unfamiliar number with an 805 area code, and she wondered if

it was one of the nursing recruiters she’d sent her resume to.

“Fenway?”

She drew in her breath sharply. “Dad?”

“How are you feeling?” His voice was heavy with concern. “Is everything

okay?”

“I didn’t recognize the number.”

“Still at work. I’m calling from a conference room.”

“You weren’t at the funeral.” It came out before Fenway could stop it, but

after all the missed graduations and state volleyball championships and

birthdays, she still felt raw.

“I—I wasn’t sure you’d want me there.”

“Really? Charlotte didn’t want to renew your vows on another of my special

days?”

Silence on the other end of the line. “Look—I know you’re in a tough spot

with the house and with your master's program, and I want to help.”

Fenway scoffed. “Now you want to help?”

“Yes. You’re still working in the ER?”

“I moved to the free clinic last year, Dad.”

He clicked his tongue. “Oh. I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, don’t keep it in your brain too long. We lost our funding. They

closed a couple of weeks ago.”

“I see.” Another pause.

“I’m applying for jobs. Just sent a couple of résumés out. Escrow closes on

Mom’s house next week. I’ll be fine.”

“Fine? Where are you going to live?”

“I have feelers out. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“No—of course not. But…”

Fenway closed her eyes. He’d been so angry at her mother.

“I wonder,” Nathaniel Ferris began, “if you’d consider moving down here.”

“Down there? Estancia?”

“It’s a beautiful part of the country. I’ve got a few vacancies in my apartment

buildings. I could reduce the rent.”

Fenway leaned back in her chair. “I don’t want your charity. And besides,

I’m not a licensed nurse practitioner in California. I need work.”

“So pay me rent and take the next available boards.”

“And what do I do for money in the meantime?”

“I know people here. A good friend runs a pharmaceutical business. Hell, the

new wing of the hospital has my name on it. You could work as a pharma rep or

in hospital administration and then get a nursing position when you pass your

boards.”

“That sounds like charity, too.”

“I’ll just make a few introductions. Don’t think I didn’t notice you were

valedictorian of your BSN class. They’ll be thanking me. You’ll be hired before

you can unpack.”

The no thanks was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it. How

many résumés had she sent out? How many apartments had she seen that were

out of her price range? How was she going to get through the next few months

without her mother? She pinched the bridge of her nose and swallowed hard.

“What’s the catch?”

A large exhale from the other end of the line. “Come on, Fenway, I’m not all

bad. There’s no catch. You’re my daughter, and I thought you could use a

break.”

Fenway leaned forward again, reading the first sentence of the job rejection

letter a few times until her eyes lost focus. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Fighting with the pull of the steering wheel, she saw the lights of Estancia

emerge before her. Bits and pieces started coming together in her memory: the

beach down the road from her father’s mansion, the Spanish-style architecture of

the outdoor mall.

Halfway down the hill, Fenway looked down at her gas gauge. The needle

hung slightly above the red line. She’d probably make it.

She yawned and turned up the radio. It was Prince, and Fenway bounced in

her seat, trying to get her blood flowing again. She pressed the accelerator, and

the speedometer crept up to seventy.

“It’s good to see you again, Dad,” she muttered. No. That sounded weird.

“I’m happy you were finally there for me.” No. Sarcasm wasn’t the way to go,

and it wasn’t nearly as cathartic to say as she thought it would be. “I appreciate

you getting me an apartment so quickly. I hope…”

That was a good question. What did she hope for? Did she hope to finally

connect with Nathaniel Ferris after twenty years? Did she hope to sit on the

white leather sofa in his mansion and leaf through her photo albums, pointing

and laughing, him getting misty-eyed at all the memories he missed?

The low fuel light came on. She cursed quietly.

Mostly, she hoped he wouldn’t have Charlotte with him.

Broadway, 1 Mile.

She glanced at the low fuel light again. Her old Sentra could go fifty miles

with the fuel light on. The rental truck? No idea. She took her foot off the gas

and slowed to sixty, a horn sounding behind her.

Relief washed over her as she turned off Ocean Highway. The Broadway exit

emptied out onto a divided four-lane boulevard, then she turned onto Estancia

Canyon Road. The next landmark was the Coffee Bean on the next corner, and

the apartment complex sat two blocks further down. She pulled halfway into the

driveway and stopped the truck.

She flipped down the visor and looked in the mirror. The day of driving had

been unkind. Her loose curls were frizzy, and her large, dark brown eyes looked

tired, but she stared firmly at her own face. “I appreciate you getting me this

apartment so quickly. It’s good to see you again.” Almost. She softened her gaze,

forcing a smile onto the corners of her mouth. “I appreciate you getting me this

apartment so quickly. It’s good to see you again.” A solid performance. She

nodded and grabbed her phone off the passenger seat.

A new voicemail. But it wasn’t from her father.

“Hi, Fenway,” the voice said. “This is Robert Stotsky. I work for your dad,

and I also oversee his apartment complexes. He had a meeting with Japanese

investors at the last minute, so he asked me to meet you and get you settled in.

Come to the leasing office when you arrive.”

Fenway sighed.

A horn blared; an SUV was in her rearview mirror, trying to get into the

driveway. She shifted into gear and lurched forward, the SUV maneuvering

around her, and Fenway pulled into an uncovered visitor space on the end of the

first row.

She killed the engine and hoisted herself out the cab.

The leasing office sign was posted above a unit across the parking lot, porch

light blazing. Her sneakers were silent on the asphalt as she went up and

knocked.

Sounds from inside: rustling, a television turning off, footsteps getting

quieter, then louder. She waited a few more seconds before the door opened.

A hulking white man stood in the doorway. Fenway was five-ten, but the

man towered over her, built of muscle, perhaps going a little soft around the

middle. He wore a well-tailored, expensive-looking suit—not what Fenway had

in mind for the building manager.

“Can I help you?” he said. His voice, kind enough, softened his angular

features but still held an edge of suspicion.

“Hi,” she said. “I’m supposed to be meeting, um, Robert? He’s the building

manager, I think.”

“Oh, you’re Fenway Ferris?” The large man caught his surprise, but too late.