Page 21 of Fatal Fame
Noah studied Keith Dwyer's face, noting the peaceful expression that was characteristic of carbon monoxide poisoning. Unlike violent deaths that left evidence of pain or fear, this looked like someone who'd simply fallen asleep and never woken up.
"Anything that doesn't fit the suicide narrative?"
Ozzy considered the question with the thoroughness that made him valuable for cases where the obvious explanation might not be the correct one. "Garage door was definitely closed when the neighbor found him. Windows in the car were up, which is consistent with someone who wanted to ensure the carbon monoxide would be concentrated and effective. No defensive wounds, no signs of binding or restraint."
"But?"
"But the car was positioned oddly. Angled toward the garage door instead of pulled straight in. Could mean nothing, or could suggest he wasn't the one who parked it there."
Noah made careful notes, photographing the scene from multiple angles and documenting details that might become important later. In his experience, apparent suicides that were actually murders usually revealed themselves through small inconsistencies—evidence that suggested the victim hadn't acted alone or hadn't acted voluntarily.
"Any signs of forced entry to the house, McKenzie?”
"None that we found. Front door was unlocked, but neighbors say Dwyer rarely locked it anyway. Back door was secure, windows all latched from inside."
Noah walked the perimeter of the garage, looking for anything that might indicate someone else had been present. The concrete floor showed tire tracks and oil stains that would take forensic analysis to sort out, but nothing immediately obvious suggested a struggle or the presence of additional vehicles.
“What did the neighbors tell you?"
"Not much that would surprise you, laddie. Dwyer kept to himself, worked odd jobs around town, had a reputation for drinking too much and getting into arguments. Neighbor who found him said he seemed more agitated than usual over thepast few days. Like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, as my grandmother used to say."
"Did anyone mention visitors? Other cars in the driveway?"
"Negative. Neighbors say he rarely had company, and when he did, it was usually other guys from the bars looking to crash on his couch. Not exactly the social butterfly type."
Noah felt the pieces of the puzzle shifting in his mind without quite forming a complete picture. Keith Dwyer's death could be exactly what it appeared—a troubled man who'd been questioned about a decade-old murder and couldn't handle the pressure of renewed scrutiny. But the timing was troubling, coming so soon after Landry's arrival in town and his interview with Keith.
"I want Dr. Chambers to do a full autopsy," Noah said. "Toxicology, examination for any signs of coercion or incapacitation. Also check for DNA under his fingernails, defensive wounds, anything that might suggest this wasn't voluntary."
"Already on my list," Ozzy said, sealing evidence bags. "I'll transport the body to Dr. Chambers in Saranac Lake this afternoon. Should have preliminary results by tomorrow."
"And I want the suicide note analyzed by a handwriting expert. Compare it to other samples of Dwyer's writing, look for signs of duress or forgery."
McKenzie nodded. "I'll coordinate with the state lab. What about next of kin notification?"
"Dwyer has family here. I'll handle that call personally." Noah paused, considering the broader implications of the death. "And McKenzie? I want tight control over information about this scene. Nothing to the media until we've had time to process everything thoroughly."
"Understood. Though keeping secrets in this town is messy and ultimately futile. What about that podcaster? Word is he interviewed Dwyer yesterday."
Pierce Landry's investigation had been in town for less than 48 hours, and already someone connected to the case was dead. That could be coincidence, but Noah's instincts suggested something more troubling.
"I'll be talking to Mr. Landry personally. In the meantime, I want to know everyone who had contact with Dwyer in the past week. Phone records, credit card transactions, anyone who saw him at bars or job sites."
As the scene was processed and the body prepared for transport, Noah began making connections. Keith Dwyer's death might be exactly what it appeared, but it was also convenient for anyone who didn't want him sharing information about the Hale murders. The note mentioned specific names—local people who supposedly knew the truth but wouldn't talk—which suggested a conspiracy of silence that could extend far beyond Keith himself.
Noah's phone buzzed with a text from Mia:Heard about Keith Dwyer. Is it true, is he dead? And is this connected to the Hale case?
The questions hit him like a punch to the gut. His daughter was already thinking like an investigator. The problem was that her instincts were probably correct, and that meant she was walking into a situation more dangerous than she realized.
He typed back:Don't know yet. Stay away from Pierce Landry and his team until we understand what's happening.
Her response came back immediately:Dad, you can't protect me by keeping me ignorant. I might be able to help.
Noah stared at the text, feeling the weight of impossible choices. Keeping Mia away from the investigation meant missing opportunities to use her local knowledge and connections. But involving her meant exposing her to whateverforces had possibly killed Keith Dwyer and made it look like suicide.
As the coroner's van pulled away with Keith's body, Noah made a decision that felt like stepping off a cliff. He would investigate Keith Dwyer's death with the thoroughness it deserved, but he would also keep Landry under surveillance to determine whether the podcaster was stirring up trouble or walking into a trap that had been set years ago.
The question wasn't whether Keith had committed suicide. The question was whether his death was the end of the killing or just the beginning of a new phase in a conspiracy that had already claimed too many lives.
