Eleven

Zoe’d had no idea how much paperwork was involved in the coroner’s job. Sure, she’d filled out her own reports and handed them in to Franklin. But the stack of death certificates, coroner’s reports, cremation authorizations, and State Police reports left her dumbfounded. Thankfully, Franklin’s secretary handled most of the details and helped her with the rest. By the time Zoe completed as much as she could, lugged the pile back to Franklin’s hospital room for his signatures, and returned it to Paulette, she’d missed lunch.

She escaped the office before more unfinished forms surfaced and headed to Golden Oaks with one of Harry’s much-loved milkshakes on her mind.

Many of the residents at the assisted living home were still gathered in the dining room when Zoe arrived, although a slow-moving exodus of wheelchairs indicated mealtime was over. Going against traffic, she crossed the Bistro and peered into the dining room, searching for Pete’s dad. Neither Harry nor Barbara were anywhere to be seen. Zoe skirted the residents filing out and jogged up the stairs to the second floor. At the far end of the hallway, she spotted them. Barbara on her walker, Harry at her side, and a third person, one of the staff members, strolling with them.

Zoe caught up to the trio before they reached Harry’s and Barbara’s rooms. “Hey there,” Zoe said, coming up behind them.

All three turned, which was when she realized the man walking with the old couple was Daryl Oliverio. She stuttered, battling to cover her unease. Could he be the mysterious Baseball Cap Man? Had Wayne been there to question him yet? Did he know he was under suspicion?

“Hello,” he said, not sounding like a murderer.

Not that she’d ever been able to detect a killer from his voice. “Hi.” She smiled—maybe too big of a smile—at Harry and at Barbara. “Looks like I missed lunch.”

Barbara laid a gentle hand on Harry’s arm. “Oh, look. It’s Pete’s friend. Zoe.”

“Yes, of course.” Harry stepped past Oliverio to give Zoe a hug. “How are you, Sunshine?”

Oliverio backed away. “I’ll let you guys visit.”

Zoe called “thank you” after his retreating back and tried to picture a ball cap on his head.

“Is Pete with you?”

She turned back to Harry. “Not this time. Sorry.”

He waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “No need to apologize. It’s good to see you.”

Zoe smiled. He recognized her. “I know you’ve already had lunch, but I wondered if I could interest you both in milkshakes down at the Bistro.”

Harry’s eyes widened in childlike glee. “I’m always interested in milkshakes. And you know, they’re free here.”

“Yeah, I know. Cool, huh?”

“Cold, actually.”

She pursed her lips against laughing.

He turned to Barbara. “You’ll join us, won’t you, Sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry.” She looked at Zoe. “Would you mind terribly if I take a rain check? I’m tired and really need to lie down.”

“I don’t mind a bit.”

Harry shuffled over to his lady friend and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Have a nice nap.”

Zoe’s cheeks warmed. Young love wasn’t always limited to the young.

After Barbara closed the door to her room, Harry offered an arm to Zoe. “I hope you know where we’re going. I don’t.”

“I do. Just stick with me.”

“Like glue.”

  

Pete had run Boyd Anderson through the National Crime Information Center when he’d arrested him for the machete incident. He’d found a couple of traffic violations and a decades-old misdemeanor charge of simple assault that had been dismissed without even a fine. Considering Anderson would have been nothing more than a kid and had been clean ever since, Pete hadn’t paid much attention.

Now, though, he pulled up Anderson’s name on the NCIC database again for a closer look.

The simple assault arrest had occurred in Pittsburgh. Pete did some math and determined Anderson had been all of nineteen at the time. Details were sketchy and took some digging. Whoever had entered the information into the database hadn’t been thorough. Pete imagined some harried officer just trying to get through the task so he could go spend time with his wife and kids. Or meet his buddies at the neighborhood bar. Since the arrest had taken place in Pittsburgh, Pete switched to a different site to search Allegheny County’s records for the date in question.

There it was.

Pete scanned the report. The original arrest hadn’t been for simple assault. Instead, Boyd Anderson had been arrested for aggravated assault. According to the arresting officer, Anderson and another teen had gotten into an altercation over a girl. Anderson pulled a knife and slashed the other kid. Later records showed the victim gave conflicting versions of the story and the only witness, the girl, claimed Anderson had been defending her honor. Hence the case was pled down. Anderson was sentenced to time served and released.

Pete might have dismissed the incident as nothing more than what it appeared to be. Except for the name of the arresting officer.

John Kinney.

Pete leaned back in his chair. Kinney and Anderson, both in Monongahela County. As a coincidence, Pete could buy it. A great many former Pittsburgh residents now lived in Monongahela County, including himself. But Anderson living next door to Kinney’s sister followed by Kinney turning up dead? That was a bit higher on the coincidence scale than Pete was willing to accept without a closer look.

  

The dining room had emptied out except for a couple of stragglers by the time Zoe and Harry made it downstairs. A quartet of residents claimed one of the tables in the Bistro. Zoe pointed Harry toward one of the others. A young woman in a staff polo stood behind the counter. “Can I get you guys anything?” she asked.

Harry held up two fingers. “Chocolate milkshakes, please.”

The woman grinned. “I should’ve guessed. Two chocolate shakes, coming up.”

“What brings you here today?” Harry reached over and squeezed Zoe’s hand.

“Can’t I just stop in to see my favorite guy?”

He chortled. “Better not call me that in front of Pete.”

From the corner of her eye, she spotted someone breeze through the front doors and head for the currently unoccupied receptionist desk. She took a second look. “Wayne,” she called to the detective.

He wheeled midstride and headed toward them.

“Harry, have you met Detective Wayne Baronick?” Zoe knew he had but didn’t expect him to remember.

“Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Harry struggled to rise.

Wayne grabbed a chair. “Don’t get up.” He extended a hand, playing along. “You’re Pete Adams’ father, right?”

“Yes, sir, I am. And proud of it.”

“As you should be.” Wayne turned to Zoe. “Have you checked on whether Oliverio’s here today?”

“Didn’t have to. I saw him.” She explained how their suspect had been walking Harry and Barbara to their rooms after lunch.

Wayne scowled. “Did you question him?”

“No. I thought you might’ve been here already and spoken to him.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked.

Zoe exchanged a look with the detective. How much should she share with Harry? Wayne didn’t offer a response. And Harry would likely forget by the time they finished their milkshakes if not sooner. “Do you remember John Kinney being killed a few days ago?”

“Sure I do.” The quick shift of his eyes told her otherwise.

“Detective Baronick and I are investigating his death.”

“Oh?” Harry’s face lit. “You know I’ve been saying for years that people have been getting murdered around here.”

He’d only lived at Golden Oaks for a few months, but Zoe didn’t argue. “I know. And I’ve looked into every potential homicide and they’ve all been determined to be death by natural causes.”

Harry grunted. “Not this time.”

“It doesn’t appear so,” Wayne said. He looked around. “I don’t suppose you know where Oliverio is right now, do you?”

“Not at the moment,” Zoe replied.

“Who?” Harry demanded.

“The tall man who was with you and Barbara upstairs. Daryl Oliverio.”

Harry’s brows dipped in what Zoe had come to recognize as confusion. He wanted so badly to remember.

“It’s okay. There are too many people here to expect you to remember one of them.”

“Don’t soft pedal it. I know my memory sucks. The number of people around here has nothing to do with it.”

The woman from the counter arrived at the table with two tall milkshakes and set them in front of Zoe and Harry. She looked at Wayne. “Can I get your anything?”

“Yeah.” He drew his long raincoat aside to reveal the gold shield clipped to his belt. “How can I locate Daryl Oliverio?”

Her eyes widened for a moment at the sight of the badge. “He’s working on Two East today.” She turned to Zoe. “That’s Harry’s wing.” The woman swallowed. “Is there a problem?”

Zoe wasn’t sure it had been necessary for Wayne to flash his badge. Or wise. “We just need to talk to him and make sure he didn’t see anything on Monday.” She shot a look at Wayne daring him to contradict her.

“Monday? You mean the day John Kinney died?” The woman stuttered over the word “died” clearly unable or unwilling to say he’d been killed.

“That’s right,” Wayne said.

The woman caught her lip between her teeth and retreated behind the Bistro’s counter.

Harry sipped on his straw. “You should’ve had her make you a milkshake, Sonny. They’re really good. And they’re free.”

“Maybe later.” Wayne stood and looked at Zoe. “I’m going to track this guy down and talk to him. You wait here.”

“Like hell, we will,” Harry said before Zoe had a chance to protest. “I’m not going to sit back like a useless old fool. I can help.”

Wayne’s patience with Pete’s dad appeared to be dwindling. “You can help by staying here and finishing your milkshake. You said it was good.”

“It is. And I’m going to help you by telling you to sit the hell down.”

“What?” Wayne snapped.

Harry took a slurp, smacked his lips, and aimed a finger toward the receptionist desk. “Your Daryl Oliverio guy is right over there.”

Wayne spun, and Zoe followed Harry’s gaze. He wasn’t kidding. Oliverio, wearing a light jacket zipped over his polo shirt, said something they couldn’t hear to the receptionist and then strolled toward the front door.

“Daryl,” Harry called, waving at him. “Come on over here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

With a relaxed smile, the man ambled toward them. Zoe tried to compare his gait to that of the man in the ball cap. Did Oliverio’s jaw match what little could be seen on the security tape? She wished she could hand him a hat and tell him to put it on and lower his head.

“Hey, Harry,” Oliverio said. “You guys havin’ a nice visit?”

Harry put a hand on Zoe’s shoulder. “This here’s my future daughter-in-law. Provided my son ever gets off his backside and proposes.”

Heat crept into her cheeks. Now wasn’t the time to mention Pete already had. “I’m Zoe.” She shook Oliverio’s hand.

He turned to Wayne. “So, that makes you Harry’s son?”

The detective choked. “No, I’m Detective Wayne Baronick, Monongahela County Police.”

Oliverio flinched. “Police?”

A moment of uncomfortable silence was punctuated by the gurgle of Harry draining the last of his shake. He gave Oliverio a Cheshire Cat grin. “Pull up a chair, Sonny. Let’s chat.”