is if we find a good enough reason for exhumation.”
As long as Lando had known Jeff Tuttle, he knew the County medical examiner was, at times, like a prickly pear that didn’t like people butting into his business. The morgue was Tuttle’s domain, and nobody told him what to do there. Nobody. He kept his own schedule. He did things in his own timeframe. On his own terms.
Tuttle also didn’t like answering calls from pushy investigators. Those who often tried getting him to rush his autopsy results were in for a fight. For the duration of his tenure, Tuttle had resisted hanging around law enforcement types in his off hours for the very reason they might use a friendship to try and influence his professional decisions. If a case leaned suicide, Tuttle didn’t want a cop pushing him to call it a homicide or vice versa.
Lando knew the guy could be a hardass about certain things. But he also knew that Tuttle wasn’t perfect. After all, the medical examiner had gotten Marissa’s cause of death wrong. If not for Gemma showing up when she did to put it right, Marissa’s killer might have gone unpunished.
That less-than-perfect backstory from the coroner himself came into play when Jimmy met with resistance. Getting Daniel Albrecht’s fingerprints out of Tuttle was turning out to be a major production.
Until Lando showed up.
“Come on, Jeff. You’re not doing us any favors by stalling. You already finished Albrecht’s autopsy. All I want to know is if his fingerprints match any that we found at Ben’s house. I’m asking you to make one phone call to the crime lab and confirm. You can send the prints via fax. If you do it, we could have an answer before morning, maybe even make an arrest.”
Tuttle slammed the file drawer closed. “Stop needling me about how to do my job. I’ve gotten along just fine for fifteen years without you showing up asking for these kinds of favors.”
“It’s not a favor. Besides, what’s the big deal? It’s part of your job to ID a killer.”
“So you think Albrecht killed Ben and then got killed by someone else? That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“No. I have a theory that Ben offered Albrecht a place to stay. When Ben got lured out of the house that Sunday night in the middle of the storm, it left Albrecht vulnerable. Someone lured both of them out in the open for one reason. And that was to murder them. I think it’s because Ben was getting close to the truth, and Albrecht already knew a secret about our killer that he shared with Ben.”
“Fine. I’ll make the call. But I want you to do something for me.”
“What? Name it.”
“I want you to plan a party or something and invite Tina Ashcomb to it.”
Lando narrowed his eyes. “You want me to play matchmaker for you? Jeez, Jeff, how desperate are you?”
“I like her. But she’s always busy with work. If I could get her in a social setting, I think we’d hit it off.”
“Wait a minute. Have you already asked Tina out once before? Has she turned you down using work as an excuse?”
“Sort of. Look, you guys are always planning get-togethers, barbecues, that sort of thing. I don’t care what kind of event it is. Just include me on the guest list.”
“If I do this, will you be more receptive in the future if I need access to an autopsy report? Or maybe want a body exhumed?”
“You get me a solid evening to spend around Tina, and I’ll grant you an all-access pass to everything in my domain.”
After brokering the deal with Tuttle, within a few hours, Lando had his answer. Ben had indeed offered Albrecht a place to stay. That’s why the prints found in a guest room matched back to Daniel Albrecht. While at the coroner’s office, he also got to make copies of the autopsy paperwork on Eric Williams, including all the photographs.
Lando jammed everyone into the conference room where he’d set up laptops and a projector to use so they could all see the autopsy documents in larger than life snapshots. He kept uploading the slides until he reached the one that he wanted to showcase.
“In Eric’s case, take a hard look at the autopsy, line seventy-two. As you can see, Jeff Tuttle listed the cause of death as undetermined. Tuttle went on to say that he just couldn’t in good conscience label the death an accident when the angle