Improper Influence

by Melissa F. Miller

  Her finely-tuned instincts had paid for her junior and senior years of college and had served her well ever since.

  So she took a full minute to size up Sonny Jackson and determine his biggest professional fear. While she eyed him, he shuffled his feet, cleared his throat, coughed awkwardly into his hand, and looked around his own office with darting, frightened eyes, as if he’d never seen it before.

  Perfect. The Chief Medical Examiner was afraid of scrutiny. This should be easy.

  She allowed a slow, warm smile to spread across her face and stretched out her hand.

  “Dr. Jackson, thanks for seeing me. The Mayor is so sorry he had to cancel, but please know this issue is of the utmost importance to him.”

  Sonny accepted her hand with some reluctance and gave it an unenthusiastic pump. She didn’t hold it against him; it was pretty disappointing to learn that your meeting with the mayor had turned into a meeting with his top lackey. She never took that response personally.

  “Mizz Lane,” he drawled, belatedly pouring on the charm, “you tell the mayor he can cancel on me any time if he’s gonna send a looker like you as his stand in.”

  Classy.

  She smiled wider and let her dark lashes flutter over her eyes and land on her cheekbones.

  “I’ll be sure to deliver that message, Dr. Jackson.”

  He raised a hand to wave off the honorific and then rolled it in a flourish toward the empty visitor’s chair in front of his desk.

  “Please, call me Sonny. And make yourself comfortable.”

  She lowered herself into the seat and crossed her legs. He remained standing until she was settled, then he smoothed his tie over his chest and deposited himself into his tall-backed leather desk chair.

  “Well, I know you’re a busy man, Sonny, so I don’t intend to take up much of your time. The Mayor is looking for an update on this myocarditis problem, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

  Sonny dragged his eyes away from her left foot, where her red pump dangled from her toes as she swung her leg in a steady rhythm.

  “Of course, of course.” He pawed through a stack of papers and retrieved a slim manila folder.

  She folded her hands in her lap and kept her eyes pinned on his.

  He scanned a sheet of paper and then looked up.

  “Well,” he began, “I know this is gonna be cold comfort for his honor, but the plain truth is those dead girls are nothing but a coincidence. Nobody wants to hear that, but look, aside from the fact that the cause of death is the same in all four cases and they’re temporally close to one another, there is simply nothing to connect them. Nothing.”

  She hitched her lower lip up slightly to convey mild disbelief. She was thrilled that he seemed committed to covering up the missing files and stolen computers. If he didn’t tell her about them, then Barry would have something even better than plausible deniability. His office would have an actual lack of knowledge.

  He blinked at her.

  Better yet, if the chief medical examiner was that desperate to keep his office’s secrets, it would definitely play to her advantage.

  “What’s wrong? You look like you aren’t convinced.”

  She took her time answering, letting his anxiety build.

  “Well, you’re the medical expert, Sonny. But, it seems you’ve forgotten another thing that connects those dead girls.”

  He blinked faster.

  “I ... what’s that?”

  “At least the first three all shared the same coroner, isn’t that right? Dr. King?”

  Sonny exhaled. His relief that she didn’t seem to know about his missing files was splashed across his face. “Uh, I believe that’s right.”

  “And Dr. King is currently on unpaid leave, isn’t he?”

  Now Sonny was boxed in. He couldn’t tell her why King was on leave without raising serious issues about the security of his office’s data, in particular, the evidence related to the myocarditis deaths.

  She waited and watched his face.

  Finally, he mumbled, “That’s correct. It’s an internal personnel issue. Got nothin’ to do with the dead girls.”

  “Well, that’s a relief. Of course, the Mayor’s Office will have to launch an investigation into Dr. King’s role in those three autopsies, anyway. I’m sure you understand,” she said brightly,

  “What? Why?”

  “Sonny, surely you’ve heard that Jasmine Cortland’s family has sued Dr. King.”

  His eyes widened. She wasn’t sure whether he actually hadn’t heard or whether he was just stunned that she had.

  “Uh—”

  “I understand that Dr. King was served earlier today and that the complaint alleges he destroyed official files related to the Cortland woman’s autopsy. I’m sure there’s no truth to that allegation, but in light of the civil lawsuit against an employee of your office, the Mayor can’t risk being seen as complacent. He’ll have to announce that your office is under investigation. I believe his press secretary has already scheduled the press conference for this afternoon. Of course, you’ll stand next to him and vow to cooperate.” She kept her voice gentle but firm, as if to signal there was no room for negotiation.

  Sonny blanched. He pushed both palms down flat on his desk in what Mackenzie suspected was an effort to steady his shaking hands.

  “An investigation? Press conference? Come on, now, honey, you gotta know that’s not necessary. And, in fact, it’s gonna be a big distraction for my people.”

  Just like an overtired housewife who only wants every educational advantage for her kids, Sonny was doing her work for her. She moved in for the kill.

  “An investigation would be unfortunate, wouldn’t it? What with you on the short list to head up the Forensic Science and Law Program at Duquesne when Jim Clark retires.”

  He blinked. A rapid fluttering of his eyelids. He looked just like a startled rabbit.

  “Uh—”

  “Oh, don’t worry, we know the appointment is very hush hush right now. But you’re a strong contender. The school has already called and asked the mayor about you. He’s thrilled. For you and for us—it’ll be quite a feather in his cap if his Chief Medical Examiner gets such a prestigious position. In fact, he mentioned something about a raise if the directorship comes through. Since you’ll be so busy with two high-profile jobs.”

  The blinking slowed and he puffed up just a touch.

  “Well, three, actually. The director also heads the Wecht Institute, you know, for continuing education and the masters programs.”

  She smiled like she was impressed and said, “But, of course, the mayor can’t very well give you a glowing recommendation if your department’s under investigation. It wouldn’t look right. You understand.”

  His short-lived relief vanished, and horror painted his face.

  “Surely we don’t need to investigate this formally. Can’t his honor do ... something else?” A plaintive whine snuck into his voice.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “I don’t know. Something. Anything!”

  She waited a beat then said in a doubtful tone, as if she were speaking more to herself than to the desperate man sitting across from her, “I wonder if we could...”

  He leaned forward. “What?”

  “I’m just thinking aloud here. I wonder if you terminated Dr. King, if that might not satisfy the Mayor and obviate the need for a public inquiry. Because you’re right, the media and governmental attention will put your people under a microscope. That’ll make it hard to do their jobs. That’s no good for the department … or for you.”

  He huffed out a breath. “Fire Bodhi? He’s one of my best coroners. I mean, I haven’t seen this complaint, but I’ll tell you right now, he never cuts corners, never plays politics. He won’t advance into management, of course. He’s got no stomach for it. But he’s a damned fine forensic pathologist. I can’t just fire the guy.”

  She edged her tone with steel. “Actually, you can. You need to d
ecide if you will. It’s your choice, you can sacrifice one easily replaceable worker or you can sacrifice the reputation of the Medical Examiner’s Office and your own academic career. Just know that if you choose the latter, the Mayor’s Office has no intention of going down with you.”

  Sonny swallowed hard. “But what about Bodhi?”

  She waved a hand. “What about him? Work out a package so he’ll get his pension and give him a soft landing. Bring him over to Duquesne as an adjunct professor after they name you director. He’s the least of your worries.”

  She leaned back against her chair to wait him out. Her summer sales job had also taught her that once she’d fully exploited a person’s fear, she didn’t need to pressure him to close the deal. Sitting in silence for a few moments and letting him talk himself into it was all that was required. She calculated that it would take Sonny three minutes, tops, of hemming and hawing before his loyalty to Bodhi King was nothing but a distant memory.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The silent concentration that Sasha and Naya brought to their work was comfortingly familiar despite the differences in their tasks, Bodhi thought. The rhythm of their softly turning pages was similar to the quiet scratches of instruments in his autopsy room; the aura of intense thought and careful consideration was the same. It soothed him, but he could tell that it was agitating Leo.

  His friend was squirming in his seat as he flipped through the documents. Leo’s left leg pounded out a constant jiggle under the table.

  Bodhi paused and considered the task from Leo’s point of view: Leo was a man of action. A doer. And, Bodhi suspected, to him, scanning page after page of irrelevant paper hardly seemed like doing anything.

  Bodhi checked the time. It was nearly seven p.m.

  “Do lawyers take a break to eat?” Bodhi asked.

  Although he kept his voice soft, it seemed to break the hush sharply. Both Sasha and Naya looked up immediately and in unison.

  Hope flared in Leo’s eyes.

  “When absolutely necessary,” Sasha admitted. A small frown creased her face. “Are you guys starving? Because if we could just push through another couple hours, we could order in—”

  “Why don’t Leo and I run out and pick up something, better than takeout. We can go to Whole Foods and then Leo can cook for all of us back at your place?” Bodhi suggested before she could force them all to continue to work without a break until midnight. For all her initial skepticism about the value of continuing to look through the documents, she’d jumped right in and was enthusiastically plowing through the stacks of paper.

  Leo was already on his feet.

  “That’s a great plan. I need to feed Java anyway. We’ll meet you at the condo. Naya, you in?”

  Naya scrunched up her face and considered. “You making something with tofu or with bacon, Flyboy?”

  Leo smiled, pointing at Bodhi. “Dr. King here is a vegan, but I promise not to sneak any soy products onto your plate.”

  Naya shrugged. “Okay, then. Thanks.”

  Sasha wore the look of a woman who knew she’d been beaten. She had the good sense to capitulate with grace. “Do you want to ask Carl to join us?”

  “Nah, he’s got tickets to the game.”

  “The hockey game?” Sasha asked, with a guilty expression.

  “Don’t sweat it, Mac. He was taking his brother all along. I’m not missing anything.”

  Sasha narrowed her eyes but accepted the explanation, which had the ring of a lie to Bodhi’s ear.

  “Great. Come on, then,” Leo said to Bodhi, eager to escape the room.

  The women had already returned their attention to their documents, their heads bent like monks over sacred writings, their focus solely on the words in front of them.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  They were crossing South Highland Avenue when a glossy Mercedes S Class slid to a halt next to them and the driver’s window buzzed down.

  “Yo, Bodhi!” called an excited voice.

  Bodhi turned and squinted in the fading light. Beside him, Leo tensed and shifted his broad shoulders in an effort to create a shield.

  “It’s okay,” Bodhi said in a low tone, as he recognized the driver.

  “How’s it going, Jamal?” he asked, skirting around Leo and approaching the highly polished car.

  “It’s freaking great, man. This job is awesome.”

  Jamal reached an arm through the open window and patted the side of the car gently, as if he were petting the flank of a horse. He smiled broadly.

  Leo stepped forward and whistled at the car.

  “Nice ride.”

  Jamal laughed. “Sure is. Wish it was mine.”

  Leo cocked his head.

  “Jamal used to work with me at the Medical Examiner’s Office,” Bodhi explained. “He drove the hearse. I suggested he talk to Gary about getting a job as a driver at the dealership. Looks like he took my advice.”

  Jamal nodded. “Jamal Parker. Nice to meet you.”

  “Leo Connelly. I play volleyball with Bodhi and Gary. Congratulations on the new gig.”

  “Thanks. How’s it going at the morgue?” Jamal asked.

  “I wouldn’t know. I’m out on unpaid leave,” Bodhi replied with no trace of emotion.

  Jamal’s eyes widened. “No freaking way.”

  “Way.”

  “You’re like ... the perfect creepy coroner, man. I mean, no offense. Sonny loved your skinny arse.” Jamal was shaking his head in disbelief. “What’d you do?”

  “Nothing. It’s a long story. It’ll all work out.”

  Jamal shot him a skeptical look. “Hope so. But, that place ... the politics are hyper, man.”

  “Hyper?” Leo asked.

  “Yeah, it’s in overdrive. People stabbing each other in the back. I mean everyone from the janitors on up to the MEs. Like, stealing each other’s cases? Man, that’s sick. They’re fighting over dead people.”

  “There’s certainly some ambition and healthy competition at play,” Bodhi agreed.

  Jamal laughed knowingly. “Come on, now, it’s way more than that. Look at Saul.”

  “Saul?”

  Bodhi had never heard anyone complain about Saul’s ethics.

  Jamal’s right eyebrow shot up his forehead. “Yeah, Saul. He’s got a blonde honey on the side. Brings her into the freaking morgue for sexy time.” He shuddered at the thought.

  “That’s not—that can’t be true. Saul has a wife and four young kids. No way.” Bodhi shook his head, rejecting the possibility.

  “I’m telling you, Bodhi. It’s true and What’s His Name—the coroner with the red hair? He walked in on them in cold storage one night. He’s been lording it over Sonny ever since.”

  “Lording it over him how?” Leo asked, suddenly interested in the office gossip.

  Jamal shifted his gaze to Leo. “He’s got Saul writing up his reports for him. When that model came in, you know, Bodhi, the overdose—”

  “She was dating some ballplayer?”

  “Yeah, her. Sonny caught that case and redhead dude told him to hand it over. Figured it would get some prime time play.”

  “The redhead? Do you mean Wally?”

  “I don’t know, dude. He’s got the office on the other side of Saul’s.”

  Leo looked sharply at Bodhi.

  “That’s Wally,” Bodhi confirmed. “Wally Stewart.”

  “Anyway, that joint is a snake pit. You should get out while the gettin’s good. Listen, I gotta get this baby back to the dealership. Thanks again for the hook up.”

  Jamal extended his arm straight out and Bodhi gave him a quick fist bump. He eased the car out into the flow of traffic and Bodhi and Leo watched him glide away, the steady purr of the engine growing fainter.

  After a moment, Leo started walking toward the grocery store. “Do you think Saul could be involved?”

  Bodhi considered the question dispassionately as they walked, matching Leo’s long stride and turning the possibility over
in his mind.

  Finally, he said, “I don’t know. My heart says no. But my heart would have said he wouldn’t have an affair, either...”

  He trailed off and they walked on in silence.

  As they clattered down the metal stairs that led to the Whole Foods Market parking lot, Leo said. “What about this Stewart guy?”

  Bodhi had known the question was coming. He tried to answer it fairly.

  “Wally Stewart is a smart man, but he’s suffering terribly.”

  “Suffering? From what?”

  Bodhi smiled.

  “Some people believe that when another person makes us suffer, it’s not personal; it’s his own suffering spilling over.”

  “And Wally makes you suffer?”

  Bodhi exhaled. “Wally makes everyone suffer.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Why don’t Connelly and I just set a date and then we’ll book whatever venue is available?” Sasha proposed, both because she thought it was a reasonable solution and because she was eager to stop having this very same weekly conversation with her mother.

  Valentina McCandless wasn’t wearing pearls, but if she had been, she would have clutched them.

  “Absolutely not,” she sniffed without even bothering to look up from the soft bare bottom she was expertly diapering.

  “Why not?”

  Sasha’s mother gently pressed the Velcro tabs together on the cloth diaper and picked up her grandson’s feet, pumping them in a bicycle motion.

  “That’s better, isn’t it, my little bean? Yes, it is, nice and clean,” she cooed to Julian. He rewarded her with a lopsided smile.

  “Look, he’s smiling!” Sasha said, amazed despite herself.

  “Probably gas,” her mother replied in her normal voice.

  She handed the baby to Sasha. “Here, hold him while I wash my hands.”

  Sasha took the flailing lump and jostled it awkwardly, one hand supporting his floppy neck. She didn’t know a ton about babies, but that much she knew—they couldn’t hold up their own heads.