Page 147 of Collect the Pieces

It’ll burn my ass if the cranky old medical examiner gives my father answers he wouldn’t give me. But we need that certificate. No certificate means no burial.

He picks up the phone on his desk and dials the number from memory. I drop into the chair in front of Dad’s desk and slide my hands over the wrinkles in my dress pants.

My phone buzzes in my pocket and I discreetly pull it out.

Jigsaw: Missing you.

How can two simple words instantly quell my anxiety.

Me: Miss you too. Weird day here. In a meeting with Dad.

Jigsaw: Call me later.

I wish I could call him now. His voice, his presence, have a way of grounding me.

“Yes, Ed.” Dad’s sharp tone pulls my attention away from Jigsaw’s text. “We’ve already spoken with the family. We’re in a holding pattern, waiting for that certificate, though.”

I slip my phone back into my pocket and lean forward.

His eyes widen and he rubs a spot in the middle of his forehead—a sure sign that whatever the examiner’s explanation is, it’s giving him a headache.

“You’re kidding? I thought she was…” He exhales sharply. “No, I understand. Please keep Margot updated. Thanks, Ed.”

He rests the phone in its cradle, his fingers still lingering on the receiver as he stares at me. “They’re not releasing her because they found something suspicious.”

“Suspicious?” I blink. “What? Her niece didn’t mention any concerns.”

Dad stares at the phone. “Apparently her doctor raised some questions. She had a large estate, and he said she’d just had a physical and was in excellent health.”

“Dad,” I say with tired patience. “How many times do we hear that? We both know after eighty, it’s a gamble whether you wake up every day or not.”

His lips purse in disapproval. “You’re awfully cynical.”

I reach for the file on his desk and flip through the documentation, studying the death report. In the corner of the folder a scribbled note in my father’s handwriting reads—D, ref.

“She didn’t have a lot of family. Her niece says most of the estate is going to charity. Is this doctor upset he’s not in the will or something?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Well, this doctor just made my week a whole lot more difficult.

“I’ll call Colleen and let her know we may need to pick a different date.”

“Just say there’s a backlog at the medical examiner’s office. Don’t mention anything about the doctor raising suspicions.”

“Of course.”I’m not stupid, Dad.

I glance at the address in the file one more time. The street name sounds familiar. But I can’t place it.

“All right,” I murmur, pushing my annoyance at the delay aside. “While I’m waiting, I’ll help Paul with the Allen case.”

“That would be good.” He flips open the planner on his desk. “I have a consultation at nine tomorrow I’d like you to sit in on.”

I hesitate. “Okay. Any particular reason?”

He closes his calendar with a decisive thud. “No, you’ll understand once you meet them.”

Jigsaw

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