by Ingrid Thoft
“That’s us,” Fina agreed, and smiled.
He stood between Fina and an electronic panel, and he keyed in a numerical code. The door buzzed open, and he pulled it shut before ambling down the hallway. He hadn’t agreed to deliver the message to Stacy, but he hadn’t said no, either.
Fina decided to wait it out and was pleasantly surprised when, five minutes later, the door swung open and Stacy D’Ambruzzi stepped into the alley.
“Hey, hon,” Stacy said, and hugged her.
“Hey, Stacy, how’s it going?” Fina and Stacy’s paths had crossed professionally over the years. Fina realized early on that Stacy was a kindred spirit, a woman in a largely male profession who didn’t take shit from anyone.
“I’m back. The move to Portland didn’t work out.” Her shoulders sagged slightly. Stacy was in her midforties, thick around the middle, with hair shorn close to her skull. Tattoos peeked out from her scrubs, and her earlobes glittered with small hoops and stud earrings. Her face was lovely; smooth, clear skin and bright blue eyes. Stacy was the unexpected in human form.
“Sorry to hear that, but I’m sure they’re glad you’re back,” Fina said, nodding toward the building. Stacy was a senior tech, competent and well respected.
“Well, they took me back, that’s something. Mind if I smoke?” She reached into her waistband and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. A lighter was tucked into the soft pack.
“Be my guest.”
Stacy lit up and inhaled deeply. “I assume you’re here about your sister-in-law.”
“Yup.”
“You know I love you, Fina, but when you’re around, trouble is never far behind.”
Fina shrugged. “I can’t deny it.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Cause of death. Off the record, unofficially, all that.”
Stacy cupped her cigarette in the palm of her hand. She blew out a long stream of smoke. “I do owe you.”
Fina didn’t say anything. A couple of years back, Stacy’s brother was busted on a DUI. Recognizing the wisdom of having an ME employee in her debt, Fina convinced Carl that the firm should represent him. Ludlow and Associates had taken the case pro bono and won her brother a favorable deal. It used to irritate her father when Fina bartered legal counsel for information, but the complex web of favors that she wove through town always ended up working to their advantage.
Stacy wiped her brow with the short sleeve of her top. “You didn’t hear it from me.”
Music to Fina’s ears. “Of course not.”
“The cause of death is drowning.” Stacy took a last puff on the cigarette and tossed it to the pavement. She ground it out with the toe of her shoe and left it there with dozens of other butts.
“Any chance it was accidental?” Fina asked, knowing and dreading the answer.
“I don’t think so. She had marks around her ankles and wrists.” Stacy avoided Fina’s gaze.
“She was tied up,” Fina said.
“Yup.”
“With what? Any idea?”
“Some kind of rope. We don’t have all the info yet. And there was something around her waist. Something heavy.”
Fina thought for a moment. “You mean a weight or a chain?”
Stacy looked at her. “Or both.”
“Christ.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
The heat suddenly felt oppressive, and beads of sweat trickled down between Fina’s breasts. She had the urge to dive into cold water, but it passed just as quickly. Water meant Melanie.
“I’ve got to go,” Stacy said. “We should have a drink sometime. Catch up.”
“Sure. That would be great.”
Stacy patted her on the shoulder and turned back to the door. She punched in the code and stepped inside.
Fina retraced her steps and was a block away from the ME’s building when she bumped into Pitney.
“What are you doing down here?” Lieutenant Pitney asked her sharply. She was standing next to the passenger door of a Crown Victoria. One of her ducklings was climbing out of the driver’s seat.
“I had a hankering for dim sum.”
Pitney snorted. Today she was wearing a sheath dress that hung on her stout frame like a window blind. It was lemon yellow, and her hobo-style bag was eggplant-colored. The whole ensemble clashed with her bright red lips.
“If I find out you were at the ME’s . . .”
“What?” Fina asked. “What are you going to do?”
“Arrest you for obstruction.”
“Right. My father could take care of that in his sleep. I do have other cases, you know.”
Pitney reached into her bag and pulled out a roll of breath mints. She unwrapped one and popped it in her mouth. “So what other case brought you to the medical examiner?” she asked.
Fina smiled. “I can’t tell you that. That’s between me and my attorney.”
Pitney shook her head. “Maybe I should get your brother down here to identify the body.”
Fina felt a current unleash in her body. “I already identified it.” Christ. Melanie had become an it.
“I just want to do everything by the book.”
“That’s bullshit.” Fina glared at her.
“You Ludlows are always the first to bitch and moan that the cops don’t follow proper procedure. I’m trying to avoid that.”
Fina threw up her hands. “Do whatever you want. My father and brothers will have a field day with this. I just didn’t have you pegged as the cruel type.”
“And I never realized you were such a softie, Fina.”
“Right. Well, I like to keep you guessing.” Fina looked out at the street. A city bus was inching its way along, trying to claim any real estate that opened in its path.
“Don’t you have better things to do than stick up for your brother?” Pitney asked.
Fina stared at her. “He’s my brother. What part of that don’t you understand?” She jogged across the street and headed back toward her car.
A leggy long-haired blonde led Bev to a table at the hotel restaurant overlooking the Public Garden. Bev watched the young woman walk away, a slight swing in her hips, but nothing too obvious. Her earning potential was probably strong, if first impressions were to be trusted, but Bev never approached girls she didn’t know. All of her employees came to her through personal recommendations. Anyone could judge a girl’s physical beauty, but matters of class and discretion weren’t always obvious until it was too late.
The waiter handed Bev a menu, and she ordered a dirty martini. She glanced at her watch. The Prospect, her future business partner, wasn’t late—yet. A few more minutes, and he would be.
Bev was of two minds when it came to this particular businessman. On the one hand, he was extremely successful and well connected, both assets in a business relationship. On the other hand, his arrogance prompted him to take risks that Bev deemed unnecessary. Like many men, he made his way through the world under the presumption that everything would go his way. He didn’t worry over the details or watch his step. Bev had met the occasional businesswoman who had the same approach, but generally, it was the men of her generation—white men—who believed their success was preordained, a foregone conclusion.
The waiter placed the martini in front of her, and she gingerly picked up the full glass and took a sip. It was delicious. She put the glass down and pinched the small plastic sword between two fingers before pulling an olive off it and sucking it into her mouth. Bev had almost finished chewing the gin-soaked olive when her phone rang.
It took her a moment to place the number, but then she recognized it as belonging to her most recent recruit, the young blonde whom she’d promoted.
“Hello, my dear. How are you?” Bev inquired cheerfully.
“I’m fine, Mrs. Duprey. How are you?”
>
The girl was still stiff, but at least she was falling into line.
“Very well. How can I help you?”
“I wanted to let you know that I’m ready. For the new project, I mean.”
Bev sipped her drink. “That’s wonderful news. Why don’t we set up a time for you to come by the Back Bay office, and we’ll get started.”
There was a minute of back-and-forth, and they settled on a time later in the week.
“In the meantime, why don’t you give some thought to your name.”
“My name?” the girl asked.
“Yes, dear. The name you’re going to use.” Bev listened to the silence on the other end of the phone. “Are you all right?”
“Sure. I was just thinking.”
“I make the final choice, of course, but I’d appreciate your input.”
“Okay. I’ll come with some ideas.”
They exchanged good-byes, and Bev disconnected. Her employee didn’t sound good. Bev’s pet project might prove to be more time-consuming and labor-intensive than she had anticipated. She held a sip of the martini in her mouth. It didn’t matter; she had the perseverance to see it through to the end.
The leggy blonde was returning to the table, the Prospect in tow. Bev watched as he admired the young woman’s derriere. Men were so predictable.
Fina left a message for Haley on her cell and tried to tamp down the undercurrent of rising worry. Maybe she was freaking out about her mom, or maybe she was trying to get attention, or both. It was too soon to panic. There were still a few hours in the range of plausible explanation.
Carl and Rand were hunkered down with their criminal attorney, and Fina planned to join them, but first she wanted to swing by the North End to try to verify Bob Webber’s tip.
Progress down Salem Street was slow. It was another hot day, and the sidewalks and stoops were thick with people visiting with neighbors and soaking up the atmosphere. Fina loved eating in the North End—she enjoyed the time-capsule feel of the place—but living there held no appeal. There was no place to park, the apartments were tiny, and everybody knew everybody else’s business. But as she made her way toward the water, she got a glimpse of the new North End that was emerging. Old warehouses and office spaces were being converted to high-end housing, complete with water views and underground parking. These buildings offered proximity to great restaurants and Mike’s Pastry without the headaches.
Fina drove to the approximate address where Bob claimed he saw Melanie and pulled over in a no-parking zone. There were two buildings under construction: One was sleek and made mostly of glass, and the other had a brick exterior, but jutted farther out into the harbor. She got out of her car and walked closer. Although Fina wanted to speak with some of Bob Webber’s coworkers, she didn’t want to bump into Bob Webber himself. Her presence would alert him that she wasn’t going to let his information fade into the background.
After a couple minutes of searching, she saw a truck bearing the same logo as Bob’s shirt the day she interviewed him. The van was parked next to the brick building with its back door open, the inside a jumble of wires, cords, and tools.
Fina walked back to her car and pulled her binoculars out of the trunk. She sat in the passenger seat and kept an eye trained on the general vicinity of the van. It was close to noon, and hopefully the guys would be breaking for lunch soon. Usually, construction workers carted their lunches to work sites and didn’t stray from the group, but maybe someone would get a hankering for a cannoli or gelato and she’d have the opportunity for some one-on-one time.
Ten minutes later, a crew of men streamed out of the brick building with an assortment of small coolers, which they carried toward the only shady spot in the parking lot. Fina didn’t see Bob Webber among them, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t on-site. The men perched on enormous spools of wire and a thick log that doubled as a parking barrier. They reached into the coolers and took out an impressive amount of food. One guy scarfed down two sandwiches, a bag of Fritos, two Hostess CupCakes, an orange, and an apple. He washed it down with a sixteen-ounce bottle of Mountain Dew. It was like watching another species, a hybrid of humans and vacuum cleaners.
They started to pack up their coolers and trash after fifteen minutes, and Fina’s hopes sank, until one of the group stood and walked away from the others. He dashed across the street before Fina got out of the car, but luckily, he was easy to spot with his bright orange T-shirt. She dodged the traffic and dropped into step behind him.
After two blocks, he reached his destination and pulled open the glass door.
Of course.
Dunkin’ Donuts.
Fina followed him into the store, and immediately felt goose bumps emerge on her arms. She hugged herself and cursed the overactive AC. The line was a few people long, and Fina stood behind the construction worker and listened as he ordered a Box O’ Joe, the cardboard coffee urn that would keep the guys alert for the remainder of the day. The second cashier motioned to Fina, and she ordered a Boston Kreme doughnut. When she reached into her wallet to pay, she unzipped her change pocket and conveniently dropped a handful of coins at the construction worker’s feet.
“Ugh. Sorry. Didn’t realize it was unzipped,” she said as she knelt down to retrieve the bait.
The construction worker knelt down beside her and collected a few coins with his dirt-caked hands.
“Here you go.” He handed them to her as they both stood up. He glanced at her face a moment too long, and she was reminded that she wasn’t batting 1000 in the looks department.
Fina dropped the coins back in her wallet and paid for her order. “Thanks. What a klutz.”
“No biggie.” He took his Box O’ Joe from the cashier and held the door for Fina as she followed him back into the heat.
“Thanks.” She started walking in the same direction as he was, back toward the building site.
“This heat sucks,” he said, and slowed his pace.
“I know. I think I hate the humidity more.”
“You’re one of those people?” he asked, grinning. “Ever been to Arizona in the summer? Dry heat sucks, too.”
“You’re probably right. Hey, are you working on that new building next to the water?”
“Yeah. Been on it for six months.”
“It looks really cool. When’s it supposed to be finished?”
“We’ve got a couple more months.” He stepped into the street when the sidewalk got too narrow for them to walk next to each other.
“I bet you know Bob Webber,” Fina said, and smiled at him.
He smiled back. She couldn’t peg his age, but he was handsome, medium height, and lean. His arms looked muscular, and the dirt on his face gave him a certain cowboy appeal.
“He’s HVAC, right?” the man asked.
“Right. The last time I saw him, he mentioned the project. Is he around today?”
“I think he took off before lunch. Had another project he had to go work on.”
“Damn. I needed to talk to him.”
“Anything I can do for you?” he asked. Christ, men made it easy for pretty women.
“Actually, now that you mention it . . . Would you mind looking at a photo and telling me if you recognize someone? My friend’s missing, and Bob saw her here the day she disappeared. I wanted to show him a different picture just to be sure.” Fina reached into her bag and pulled out the family photo.
They’d reached the corner across from the construction site, and the man paused. “Are you a cop?”
“No, just trying to find a friend who’s missing.” Fina handed him the photo. He shifted the Box O’ Joe to his other hand and took it from her. “That’s the woman I’m looking for.” She pointed at Melanie.
“I’m probably not the right guy to ask. I do a lot of the electrical work, so I spend most of my time inside.” He gestur
ed with his head toward the building. “You could ask some of the other guys.”
Fina stepped closer to him. “I’d love to, but I don’t want to interrupt their work.”
He squinted his eyes, deep in thought. “Some nights, the guys go to Jordy’s. It’s a bar around the corner. You could stop by; let me buy you a drink.” He smiled.
“Hmmm. Maybe I’ll do that.”
There was a break in the traffic, and the two of them jogged to the other side.
“Thanks for your help,” Fina said.
“Seriously, stop by Jordy’s. I’m Billy, by the way.” He held out his hand, and she shook it.
“Josefina. Nice to meet you. I’ll think about your offer.” She walked to her car and climbed in. Once the air was blasting on full, she reached into the waxed bag and pulled out the doughnut. Her first bite was all doughy pastry, but the second revealed the thick, yellow crème filling. Fina ran her finger across the fudge topping and licked it.
A round of beers with construction workers? There were worse ways to spend her time.
“How’s our friend in the Camry?” Fina asked Frank.
“Sitting tight.”
Fina was back on the road, headed toward the meeting with Carl, Rand, and Rand’s attorney. It promised to be a barrel of laughs.
“So you think that’s his home?”
“Yeah. He hasn’t moved for a few hours.”
“Do you mind checking to make sure? Then you can leave.”
“You want me to snoop through the mail? Just a little federal offense? Is that all you ask?”
“You could go the ‘Sorry, I thought my buddy still lived here’ routine. That one usually works. I learned it from the best.”
“After I do that for you, maybe you could fit me into your busy schedule? Update me before I get any more involved?”
“Absolutely, but right now, I’m headed to the lion’s den. Wish me luck.”
The front door of Carl and Elaine’s house was locked, which thwarted Fina’s plan to sneak in and go directly to her father’s office unobserved. Instead, she went in the side door and made a hasty retreat through the kitchen and down the hall. The office door was ajar, and Fina could hear voices murmuring within. She knocked lightly and pushed open the door.
