The Dead Will Tell Read Online Free PDF Page A

times to muddle through. I set my hand on her arm and give it a reassuring squeeze. “Was he depressed?”
    “That’s what makes this such a shock. He wasn’t. Not at all. I mean, he didn’t get down in the dumps. He didn’t have that kind of personality. He was strong.… I mean, not that depressed people are weak, but…”
    “Did he have any health problems?”
    “He’d slowed down in the last couple of years. Complained about his knees sometimes. Oh, and he had a little thing of skin cancer removed six months ago. But nothing since. He was healthy as a horse.”
    “Any issues with drugs or alcohol?”
    “Never did drugs. Far as I know, he never drank too much.”
    “Has he been under any stress lately?”
    “He never mentioned anything.”
    “Any deaths in the family recently? Or anyone he was close to?”
    “No.”
    “Any financial problems?”
    “No. He hit it big with the Maple Crest development back in the late ’90s, so he was pretty much set for life.”
    “Did he have many friends, Belinda?”
    “He used to hang out with some guys his age. They’d visit or play poker or go out to dinner.”
    “Do you know their names?”
    She lowers her head, presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know.”
    I suspect at least part of the display isn’t grief, but guilt because they weren’t as close as they’d once been.
    “Did he have a girlfriend?” I ask.
    “Not that I know of. But he was kind of secretive about … personal stuff.”
    Movement at the door snags my attention. Deputy Frank Maloney with the Holmes County Sheriff’s Department lugs in a large fluorescent work light. An orange extension cord is looped around his shoulder like a rope. I reach into the pocket of my jacket, pull out one of my cards, and hand it to the woman. “Mrs. Harrington, if you think of anything else that might be important, will you give me a call?”
    “Of course.”
    I nod toward her father’s body. “You don’t have to stay for this. And if you’re not up to driving, I can call a family member for you or have an officer take you home.”
    “Thank you, but no.” She shakes her head. “The least I can do is be here for him through this.”
    As I start to walk past her, I think of one more question. “Mrs. Harrington, do you have a key to his house?”
    “Yes, I do. Why?”
    “I thought he might’ve left a note.”
    “Oh.” Her face crumples. “I didn’t even think of that.”
    “Is it okay with you if we take a look inside?”
    “Sure. Whatever you need.”
    Giving her a final nod, I turn my attention back to the scene. The Holmes County coroner, Dr. Ludwig Coblentz, has arrived. He’s a rotund man and clad in his trademark extra-large scrubs, a slicker draped over his shoulders. There’s a young technician with him. Judging from the tuft of peach fuzz on his chin, I guess him to be a trainee and new to fieldwork. I wonder how long he’ll last.
    While the doctor slips into biohazard gear, the technician, who’s already suited up, kneels and unzips a body bag. Several yards away, two paramedics from Pomerene Hospital in Millersburg stand just inside the sliding door, watching. A volunteer fire fighter has set up an aluminum combination ladder beneath the body. A second volunteer stands on the platform section, trying to figure out the best way to lower the corpse to the ground.
    I cross to Doc Coblentz and motion toward the biohazard on the ground beneath the body. “Do you guys have a field test for blood?” I ask.
    “We do.” The coroner nods at the technician. “Randy, grab one of those Hemastix strips, will you?”
    The technician digs into his equipment bag, removes a bottle of Hemastix, and plucks out a single plastic strip.
    “It’ll test for the presence of hemoglobin, which indicates blood,” the doc tells me. “If it’s present, we’ll get a color reaction.”
    We watch the technician press the colored end of the strip against the