Loyalty

by Ingrid Thoft

“Does that seem like a blow-off?” she asked.

  Billy looked at her and then kissed her back. “Not really.”

  “Then give me your number.”

  He recited it, and Fina typed it into her phone. She slipped her phone into her bag before kissing him again.

  She had every intention of calling Billy, but if things got dicey, at least he got something for his troubles.

  The sun came up hours after Fina had abandoned any hope of sleeping. As she lay in bed, her thoughts ricocheted between images of Melanie sinking in the ocean, chains weighing her down, and Haley, dressed provocatively, hanging around with Brianna. The image of Melanie was obviously more disturbing, but at least it was over. The danger had passed; Melanie was gone. But Haley was an open question. She was safe for now, but what about tomorrow? If this was what being a parent was like, tubal ligation was becoming an appealing option.

  She watched TV for a couple of hours, then showered and dressed in a black sheath dress and black pumps. She pulled her hair back into a chignon and transferred her gun, wallet, and sunglasses to a smaller black bag. In the kitchen, Fina leaned over the sink to eat four Mallomars and swigged down a small bottle of diet iced tea. Milloy called and interrupted her living room pacing to say he was waiting downstairs.

  She moved through the over-air-conditioned lobby into Milloy’s car. After pulling her door shut, Fina depressed the button to close the moonroof.

  “I’m trying to avoid the bedhead look this morning.”

  “You look very Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” Milloy said, and rolled up the windows before cranking up the air-conditioning. “You’ve got chocolate on your cheek.” He reached over to touch her.

  “That’s a bruise,” Fina said, batting his hand away.

  “That’s chocolate, genius,” Milloy replied, and rubbed his hand over her cheek. “Breakfast?”

  “Yup.”

  They didn’t speak as Milloy navigated through the morning traffic. Fina loved to drive, but occasionally, she liked someone else to take the wheel. It couldn’t be just anyone, though; it had to be someone who was equally skilled and aggressive, and Milloy satisfied both criteria.

  Fina pulled out her phone and dialed Dennis Kozlowski’s number. The night before she’d put him on Joe Winthrop surveillance.

  “How’s Joe?” she asked.

  According to Dennis, Joe had been lying low since her visit. He’d stayed in his apartment except for a couple of runs to the convenience store on the corner. Fina instructed Dennis to maintain the surveillance and let her know if Joe made any moves.

  “No luck?” Milloy asked when she hung up.

  “Nope. He seems to be sticking close to home.”

  “What’s the plan?”

  “Another visit, if he doesn’t give me something soon. Can you come with me?”

  Milloy glanced at her. “Sure, but wouldn’t you prefer Frank?”

  “Frank doesn’t possess your biceps or pecs. Sometimes that’s more persuasive than a gun.”

  “You know what you’re going to do when you get there?”

  Fina pulled down the visor and examined her reflection in the mirror. “Nope. I’ll figure it out.”

  Outside the church, the street was swarming with news crews and uniformed police trying to keep things orderly. The Ludlows weren’t dutiful churchgoers, but they did donate to the local Episcopalian church on a regular basis, which afforded certain privileges. When occasions called for some degree of pomp and circumstance and respectability, they had a place to go.

  Inside, Fina and Milloy were directed to the parish hall, where the rest of the family was milling around. Scotty’s boys raced around the space, jumping off the stage at one end of the room and then climbing the stairs to do it again and again. The men were huddled off to one side, Dudley Prentiss among them, and Elaine was sitting on a couch, a small cluster of women in her orbit.

  “You’re late,” Elaine informed Fina when she and Milloy joined their group.

  “No, I’m not,” Fina said, and turned to hug Patty. “Thanks,” she whispered into Patty’s hair. Patty gave her a squeeze and looked in the direction of a metal door propped open to the outside. Fina followed her gaze and saw Haley sitting on the stoop. Fina and Patty exchanged a look.

  “You look lovely, Mrs. Ludlow,” Milloy said as he bent over to kiss Elaine’s leathery cheek.

  “You look so handsome, Milloy. Doesn’t he look handsome?” Elaine asked the assembled group. They murmured their agreement while Fina rolled her eyes.

  “You’re too kind, Mrs. Ludlow,” he said.

  “You’re such a good boy, Milloy,” Elaine said. “How will you find a girl to marry if you spend all your time with her?” She nodded at Fina.

  Fina scowled and broke off from the group. She started across the room to the men, but changed course and stepped outside into the bright sun.

  Haley was wearing a black dress and black heels.

  “You’re going to roast out here in this sun,” Fina said. She lowered herself down next to her niece.

  “It feels good,” Haley said, her eyes closed and her faced tilted toward the sun.

  “You and your mom, the hotter the better.”

  They sat next to each other in silence. Fina felt a bead of sweat roll down her back.

  “Are you feeling better?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Nothing like puking your guts out multiple times,” Haley commented.

  Fina wanted to return to the relative cool of the parish hall, but she didn’t want to leave Haley to bake by herself. Elaine had always been more concerned with her own comfort than her children’s needs, and it was something that Fina couldn’t forgive. When Fina got sick as a child, it was always the au pair who would spend the night rubbing her back and urging her to sip ginger ale. Elaine couldn’t possibly do it; she needed to be fresh the next morning for tennis and her mani/pedi. Nanny had told Fina that her mother wasn’t always that way; it seemed that Elaine’s nurturing spirit died with Josie.

  So Fina sat in the heat and felt the beads of sweat slicken her skin while she kept Haley company. She was saved by Scotty five minutes later.

  “It’s time to go,” he told them, and offered each a hand as they struggled to standing positions.

  Fina grabbed a napkin from a dispenser in the parish hall kitchen and dabbed at her neck and face. She watched as Rand looked around for his daughter. Haley floated toward him, but when he tried to put his arm around her, she shrugged him off and drifted toward Patty. Fina balled up the napkin and tossed it into a trash barrel. Then she fell into step with the rest of the group and prayed to a god she didn’t believe in that she’d survive the next hour.

  Bev fussed with Connor’s tie.

  “Mom, it’s fine. You don’t need to come up with me.”

  They were standing in the lobby of a skyscraper in the financial district, the top three floors of which were occupied by one of the city’s most prestigious law firms. Bev didn’t want to see another lawyer as long as she lived, but that was a luxury she didn’t have. As far as she was concerned, the last team had failed Connor. He needed some fresh blood—out for blood—moving forward.

  “I won’t go up if you don’t want me to, but there’s no shame if it would make you feel better.”

  “I’m a grown man, and you’re my mother.”

  “That’s right. I’m your mom, and that’s what moms do. They take care of their kids, no matter how old they are.”

  The lobby of the building was an atrium that soared up a dozen stories. High-heeled shoes click-clacked across the marble floor as smartly dressed women walked to the elevator banks. People were scattered along the leather benches, and small tables ringed the open-air coffee shop. One corner of the lobby had been fashioned as a pseudo jungle; thirty-foot trees and a wall of water softened the view toward the building n
ext door.

  Connor glanced at his watch. “Do you want some coffee? I’ve got time.”

  “Tea and a scone, please,” Bev said, and watched him walk to the end of the line. It was clichéd but true: They were still your babies, even when they weren’t babies anymore. And when someone wronged them, it stung just as much as childhood transgressions did. When did being a parent get easier? That’s what she wanted to know.

  Bev walked over to an empty table near the water feature and brushed the crumbs off the surface. She sat and watched the steady flow of people ingested and coughed out by the revolving doors. Connor came over with a tray and carefully transferred a cup of tea, a coffee, and a plated scone to the table. He propped the tray against the table leg after emptying it of napkins, sugar packets, butter, and a knife.

  “You going to share this with me?” Bev asked as she cut into the scone and nestled a pat of butter into the seam.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Just like your daddy; lose your appetite when you’re stressed. Wish I had that problem,” she said, and bit off the corner of the warm scone.

  Bev prattled on about a show she’d watched with Chester the night before. Apparently, there’s a small tribe of people called the Sentinelese who live on a tiny island in the Bay of Bengal. They’re a “lost tribe” and have rejected all contact with the developed world. They even kill people who fish in their waters. Hard to believe that such pockets still existed in the world.

  “I wonder if they’re happy,” Bev mused.

  “They probably don’t share our definition of happiness,” Connor said, and glanced at his watch. “Time to go. You sure you want to hang around? I know you have things to do.”

  “But unlike the Sentinelese, I have my cell phone and can attend to business while I wait. I’ll be here.”

  Connor started to pile the trash on the tray, but she shooed him away. She watched him walk toward the elevators and mentally urged him to stand up straighter. Those people who looked like they didn’t need help were, more often than not, the ones who got it. Desperation was like a strong odor; people steered clear.

  Bev’s phone rang. She looked at the screen and recognized the number of one of her favorite girls.

  “Hello, dear. How are you?”

  “I’m well, Mrs. Duprey. How are you managing in this heat?”

  “Reminds me of home, sweetheart, which is never a bad thing. What can I do for you?”

  “I’m wondering if you have time to meet later today. There’s a situation that I’d like to discuss with you.”

  Bev flattened a crumb on the table with her fingertip. “Is there a problem with one of the clients?”

  “No, no.”

  “One of the other girls?”

  “I’m not sure. It may not even be a problem, but you always tell us to let you know if something doesn’t seem quite right.”

  “I do indeed. Can it wait until tomorrow? My day is packed tighter than a can of sardines.”

  “Sure. It’s not an emergency.”

  “All right, sugar. Why don’t you come to the Back Bay office tomorrow, and I’ll take you out for a nice lunch.”

  “That would be lovely. What time?”

  “Let’s say noon.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Duprey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Bev ended the call and sat with her phone in her hand. It could be anything. Maybe one of the girls was being indiscreet or forgetting to shave her legs. She’d just have to wait until tomorrow. She was doing a lot of that these days, waiting.

  Fina saw a host of familiar faces during the service, including Frank and Peg, and caught a glimpse of Pitney and her merry band of men at the back of the church. Afterward, they milled around outside and followed the procession to the cemetery, but had the good sense to keep a fair distance during the actual interment.

  Fina and Milloy were walking to his car when Pitney stepped out from behind an obelisk and stood in Fina’s path.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Pitney said. She was wearing an electric blue pantsuit, which Fina supposed qualified as understated and muted in Pitney’s sartorial book.

  “Really?” Fina walked around her and waited for Milloy to unlock the car.

  “I’m not heartless, Fina.”

  “Ah . . . okay. Thanks? What do you want? Undying appreciation for your sensitivity?”

  “Do you really want a killer to go free? Even if that killer is your brother? Wouldn’t that make family gatherings a little awkward?”

  Fina snorted. “Trust me. You can’t begin to fathom our family gatherings.”

  “I’m sure I can’t. Making any progress on the case?”

  “Yes.” Milloy started the car, and its low purr hummed in the background.

  “We could join forces, work together.”

  Fina shook her head in disbelief.

  “Think about it,” Pitney said, and walked away.

  Fina grabbed the door handle and then paused. The mourners had left Melanie’s freshly dug grave, but two people stood nearby, their heads bowed. She took her hand off the door and motioned for Milloy to wait. She walked toward the couple and watched as her mother bent and placed a bouquet of pink roses on Josie’s grave. Elaine always said that Josie’s favorite color was pink, but thirty months of life didn’t give you much to go on. Fina leaned her hip against a large statue as Carl put his arm around Elaine, who was dabbing at her face with a tissue. Every once in a while, Fina pondered a world with Josie in it, but the thought was always fleeting. At this moment, it was replaced with a wash of sympathy for her parents.

  Everyone reconvened at Carl and Elaine’s, and Fina newly appreciated her parents’ sprawling house. With a crowd this size, if she kept moving, she could avoid Elaine all day. Carl and Dudley huddled in Carl’s office, and Haley took her cousins to the family room, where they zoned out in front of the TV. Fina cut two large slices of a six-layer chocolate caramel cake and wandered back to the solarium, where Milloy stood next to Risa. Milloy was looking at Risa and leaning in, his head tipped as if his ear couldn’t get close enough. That was why the ladies loved Milloy; he listened, or did a damn good job pretending to.

  Fina walked to a large rattan sofa and put the plates down on the glass coffee table. Frank and Peg walked over to where Fina was standing. He was holding a coffee cup and saucer and looked longingly at the slices of cake. Peg gave him a sweet smile, and Fina recognized the shorthand that long-standing couples share: I’d love that cake; that cake will kill you; I won’t have that cake; I love you for not having that cake.

  “How are you holding up, hon?” Peg asked as she embraced Fina.

  “Okay.”

  Frank gave her a one-armed hug so as not to spill his coffee.

  “It was a lovely service,” Peg said.

  Fina held her hands open in a question. “If you say so. How are you guys?”

  “We’re good,” Frank said, and sipped his coffee. “What’s our guy been up to?”

  “Joe Winthrop? Nothing. I’ve got Dennis sitting on him, but so far he’s been a colossal disappointment.”

  “What else are you working on?”

  Peg didn’t seem to be listening, but Fina knew this was one of her secret talents, perfected by years of working with adolescents. She could appear completely uninterested, but at the same time catch every word that you said.

  “I followed up on a tip from Mark Lamont,” Fina said. She saw Peg squint at the mention of his name. “I think I told you that one of his guys saw Melanie in the North End after she’d been in Cambridge. I checked it out, but couldn’t come up with anything definitive. And I’m working that other lead we discussed. Milloy’s helping me out with that one.”

  “I’m sure he’s very unhappy about that,” Frank chortled.

  “Actually, he is kind of unhappy about it.�
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  “I’m guessing this lead has something to do with young, beautiful women?” Peg asked.

  “And you’re the detective in the family?” Fina teased Frank.

  “Let’s go find Rand and pay our respects,” Peg said to her husband. She gave Fina a peck on the cheek. “Come for dinner soon. We always love to see you.”

  “Thanks,” Fina said. “I love seeing you guys, too.” She gave Frank a kiss and watched them leave the solarium.

  She noticed Mark Lamont across the room, gazing out at the pond. He saw her at the same moment and walked over.

  “Fina,” he said. He gave her a big hug and then stood back to look at her. “How are you?”

  “Eh. I’ve been better. Thanks for coming.”

  “Of course. Melanie was practically family.”

  Fina gestured to Mark, and he sat down next to her on the sofa. She reached for her cake and took a bite. “Do you want some? I’m in serious need of a sugar fix.”

  Mark patted his round belly. “Trying to cut back, and I don’t want Vanessa to catch me.”

  “Did you happen to talk to Bob Webber?” Fina asked.

  “He’s been tough to track down, but I’m seeing him later today.”

  Fina swallowed her irritation with a forkful of chocolate cake and creamy caramel. “I don’t mean to be pushy, but it’s important.”

  Mark held his hands up in surrender. “You’re not being pushy. You’re being a good sister. But you know how it is; people can be hard to get ahold of.”

  “Sure.”

  “Either way, if he hasn’t contacted the police by noon tomorrow, you should go ahead.”

  “That’s great, thanks.” Fina smooshed a dab of frosting with her fork and watched it balloon over the tines. “I’m wondering, though, why wait? Couldn’t I just do it now?”

  “A few more hours and I might be able to help him out with his child support issue. You know, make going to the cops a more appealing option.”

  “I understand. It’s good of you to even consider it.”

  “I got to go. Watching you eat that cake is too much for me.” Mark stood up and tugged on the cuffs of his shirt. “So we’ll talk tomorrow?”