Loyalty

by Ingrid Thoft

  “Hi, guys. Sorry I’m late.” He put his briefcase on the floor next to his chair and smoothed down his tie. “So, what are we talking about?” He looked around the table, his face open and eager like a golden retriever’s.

  “Your sister’s not talking about anything,” Pitney said.

  “That’s my girl,” Scotty said, and squeezed Fina around the shoulders.

  “Oww.”

  “That still hurts?” Scotty asked.

  “It’s only been a little over a week. Did I show you the bruise on my shoulder?” Fina started to wiggle out of her jacket.

  “Speaking of bruises,” Pitney interjected. She pushed the photo in Scotty’s direction.

  “Christ,” Scotty said. “That’s awful.”

  “I’d like to know if your sister knows the victim.”

  Fina leaned over and whispered in Scotty’s ear. He thought for a moment and then whispered in her ear.

  “What makes you think my sister knows this woman?” Scotty asked.

  “Because her business card was found in the victim’s pocket.”

  Scotty tipped his head from side to side. “Interesting, interesting.” The siblings conferred once more. Pitney tapped her purple nails on the tabletop.

  Fina straightened up in her chair. “I didn’t really know her, but I did meet her a couple of times.”

  “Where?” Pitney asked as Cristian poised a pen over his notebook.

  “At Crystal. The nightclub.”

  “Under what circumstances?”

  Fina whispered in Scotty’s ear and then looked at Pitney. “I was at the club, and my friend thought she was cute. He wanted me to introduce him.” Cristian’s head bobbed up, and he looked at Fina. “I was just trying to be a matchmaker. Make a love connection for a friend.”

  “The friend’s name?” Cristian asked.

  “Milloy Danielson.”

  “And what did the victim tell you her name was?” Pitney asked.

  “Brianna. No last name.”

  “What else did you learn about her?”

  Fina studied the blank wall behind Pitney and Cristian. It was painted light gray, its only features a video camera mounted near the ceiling and a large clock encased in wire. These rooms were designed to make you anxious. You were supposed to feel claustrophobic and unsettled. A cop once told Fina that a suspect’s behavior in the interview room was a pretty good indicator of guilt. The innocent people freaked out, but the guilty often napped. Even Fina, who’d had experience in the interview room, found it mildly unnerving.

  “I don’t know anything else about her.”

  “We were told you two were arguing.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Cristian and Pitney exchanged glances.

  Fina grinned. “Let me guess. Dante Trimonti told you that Brianna and I were at each other’s throats. Pulling hair and scratching. Sounds like a fantasy he might have.”

  “So you weren’t fighting?”

  “Nope. I may have been passionate, trying to convince her to talk to my friend, but she wasn’t interested in him.”

  “Really,” Cristian said.

  “I know—hard to believe. Milloy’s yummy.”

  Cristian frowned and scribbled something in his notebook.

  “Enough with the lover’s tiff,” Pitney said.

  Scotty looked surprised. “Is that true? Are you two dating?”

  “Can I go?” Fina asked. “I’m sorry about Brianna, but I don’t have anything to add.”

  Pitney reclaimed the picture of Brianna and slipped it into the manila folder. “Just don’t go far.” She stood up and marched out of the room with Cristian in her wake. The two detectives pushed off from the wall and left.

  “You ready?” Scotty asked as he swiveled out of his bolted chair.

  “Yup.” Fina stood up and put her bag over her shoulder.

  Scotty and Fina climbed into his car, and he turned the key. The engine was so quiet, the only indication the car was on was the blast of air that came out of the vents.

  “Who is she?”

  “She’s a hooker who hangs out at Crystal. Haley knows her.”

  “Huh?” Scotty looked at her, his features slack.

  “When Melanie first went missing, I showed her picture around, and one of the regulars at Crystal recognized Haley, not Melanie.” Fina leaned forward and adjusted the air-conditioning vent so it pointed at her face. “This guy told me that Haley hung around with a hooker named Brianna. The dead girl.”

  “So you talked to her?”

  “A couple of times. I was trying to figure out what Haley was mixed up in, but Brianna claimed they were just friends.”

  “How do you know Brianna was a hooker?”

  Fina gave Scotty a look. “Trust me. I know.”

  “What does this have to do with Melanie?”

  “I don’t know, but in any case, Haley shouldn’t be BFFs with a hooker.”

  “Agreed.” Scotty tipped his vents in Fina’s direction. “You gave her your card?”

  “Yup. The same night I brought Haley over to your house.”

  “Is that when you two argued?”

  “It was more a discussion than an argument. I wanted to know who she worked for.”

  “Did she tell you?”

  “Nope.” They sat in silence for a moment. “It’s going to be a problem if Pitney tries to jam me up for this.”

  “Trust me, it’s a nonstarter. Don’t give it another thought.”

  “Is Rand out?”

  “Last night,” Scotty said, nodding.

  “I’ve got to talk to some people.” Fina reached for the door handle.

  “Good luck,” Scotty said, and drove away after she slammed the door shut.

  She watched him leave. She could feel a headache creeping across her skull, and she knew it would only get worse. That little fucker Dante Trimonti was due a visit.

  “Your guy’s on the move,” Dennis told Fina when her cell rang an hour later.

  “Where’s he headed?”

  “South toward Quincy.”

  “All right. Keep in touch.”

  Fina went back to Nanny’s, took a long shower, changed her clothes, and got back on the road. Inertia was the enemy of any investigation. Doing nothing was never an option, even when Fina didn’t know exactly what to do, which is why she was heading back to Mode Accessories. Maybe it would be a dead end, but Melanie had that phone number for a reason, and more importantly, Fina didn’t have any better ideas. When she crossed the juncture of the Pike and 128, she dialed Donald Seymour and crossed her fingers that he worked on Saturdays. He answered on the third ring.

  “Hi, Donald. It’s Amy Myers.” There was a pause, and Fina heard papers being shuffled in the background. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about me,” she teased. “I represent that big accessories client.”

  “Of course, Miss Myers. There’s no forgetting you.”

  “Well, I just happen to be in the neighborhood and wondered if you were serious about that lunch offer.”

  “Sure, sure,” Donald squeaked and then cleared his throat. “You mean today?”

  “If you’re available.”

  “That would be great. Do you have any place in mind?”

  They settled on a chain restaurant close to the Mode Accessories office and planned on meeting in half an hour. Fina had some business to attend to before Donald showed up. First, she called Scotty and told him to call her cell in fifty minutes. He said he was too busy, but his assistant would do the honors. Once at the restaurant, she had a word with the hostess, who was only too happy to be of assistance in exchange for twenty bucks.

  With ten minutes to spare, Fina took a seat on the bench that wrapped around the restaurant foyer and waited for Donald.
He was seven minutes early.

  Fina thrust out her hand and shook his hand firmly in an effort to reinforce the business nature of their relationship. She would do a lot of things for work, but she wouldn’t sleep with strangers. Well, at least not ugly strangers.

  “I was surprised to hear from you,” Donald said once they were seated in a high-backed booth with oversize menus spread open before them.

  “Just because things didn’t work out this time doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep in touch,” Fina said. “A good network is essential to business success, don’t you agree?”

  The waiter looked to be in his midtwenties and affectless; Fina wanted to suggest a course of antidepressants. He took their orders and returned a few minutes later with their drinks—a soda for Donald and a diet soda for Fina that was so large, she had to pee just looking at it.

  Fina steered the conversation away from work and asked Donald a few questions about where he lived and how he spent his free time. It didn’t take long for the floodgates to open, thereby unleashing a monologue about the joys of home brewing. Fina liked beer as much as the next person, but she had never understood the appeal of home brewing. Why go to all that trouble for something she could easily buy? And the level of enthusiasm and commitment required? Clearly she was missing the zealous hobbyist gene.

  But the conversation made Donald happy, which was the point. Their bacon cheeseburgers arrived, and the next few minutes were devoted to salt shaking, ketchup squeezing, and the like.

  Fina’s phone chirped, and she made a face. “I just need to look,” she said, and she peeked at the screen. She saw that it was Scotty’s office and muted the ringer. Fina made a show of pressing a few buttons with exaggerated force. “This phone is making me crazy. Are you happy with your phone?” She put hers down and picked up the oversize, dripping burger.

  “I love it,” Donald said between mouthfuls, and set down his burger. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and reached into his pocket.

  “Oooh. You have one of those fancy ones,” Fina said admiringly when he pulled out one of the newest smartphones. “Do you mind if I take a look? I’m thinking of biting the bullet and getting one of these.”

  “Be my guest,” Donald said, and keyed in the PIN. He handed the phone to her across the table. “It’s fantastic.”

  Fina cooed appropriately and let him show off a few features. She was starting to tire of the charade when the hostess approached their table.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Seymour?”

  “Yes,” Donald said, popping a French fry into his mouth.

  “There’s a phone call for you at the hostess stand.”

  “There is?” Donald looked perplexed.

  “Donald Seymour?” The hostess glanced at Fina.

  “That’s me. I just don’t know who would be calling me here.”

  “Did you tell the secretary where you would be?” Fina asked, praying the answer was yes.

  “Yes, but I don’t know why she wouldn’t just call me on my cell.” He looked at his phone and started to reach for it. Fina held on to it and smiled. “Do you mind if I keep looking while you take that call? I want to try out the Web access.”

  “Sure, sure,” Donald said, and pushed himself out of the booth.

  Fina watched him walk away. Then she got to work.

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a memory card that was compatible with Donald’s phone. She popped the phone open, pulled out his card, and slipped the fresh one into the slot. Fina peeked around the edge of the booth. She could see Donald and the hostess conferring. She selected his contacts list and downloaded it to the card. She’d made it through the letter U when she caught sight of Donald walking back across the restaurant. It would have to do. She swapped the cards back, slipped hers into her bag, and tapped on the Web icon on the screen.

  “That was strange,” Donald said as he sat down.

  “What’s that?” Fina asked, looking up from his phone.

  “There was no one there. I called the office, and Jean claimed no one had called me.”

  “That is strange. Tell me, do you work on commission for this cell company? I’m ready to sign up for one of these.” Fina giggled and handed the phone back to him.

  “It’s great, isn’t it? I have access to so much info, wherever I am.”

  “It’s amazing,” Fina agreed, and took another bite of her burger. The cheese was starting to congeal. She picked up a couple of French fries and dipped them in ketchup. “So does that help you with your brewing?” she asked, knowing that the combination of home brewing and a gadget might give Donald a hard-on right there at the table.

  “Yes,” he said excitedly. “I have this app that . . .”

  Blah, blah, blah, blah.

  But after an hour and a $22.53 lunch tab, Fina had the A’s through the U’s.

  She just had to hope that the president of Zyxco hadn’t named the company after himself.

  “He went to Best Buy and the grocery store,” Dennis reported to Fina. She was sitting on the couch at Nanny’s wrapped in a towel, her hair still wet from the shower.

  “That’s it?”

  “And he stopped at an industrial park in Quincy. He popped inside for about ten minutes, then came back out and drove home.”

  “What’s that all about? Do you know the place?”

  “Nope, and there were no names on any of the vehicles. I did write down a few tag numbers. There was a gravel supplier just up the road, and the helpful secretary told me she knows the place as Ridleys.”

  “Ridleys. Okay. Give me the tag numbers, and I’ll check them out.”

  Dennis read off the numbers. “Do you want me to maintain surveillance?”

  “Yup. Just send me the bill.”

  Dennis chuckled. “Carl must be loving this.”

  “Oh, he is,” Fina said.

  She called her contact at the Registry of Motor Vehicles and put in a request for info on the license plate numbers that Dennis had provided. Her request was countered with a request for tickets to the Pats–Jets game in October. In Boston, sports tickets were the real ticket to information. The Ludlows had corporate boxes at all of the city’s professional sports arenas, but it was rare that any family members attended a game. She promised her contact tickets and hung up.

  Fina heard a knock on the door, got up, and secured the towel around her naked body. She glimpsed through the peephole and saw a young woman with a brunette bob, a pale pink boatneck sweater, and pearls.

  “Emma,” Fina said as she opened the door. “You look so Republican, as always.”

  “And you look so naked,” the young woman commented as she stepped into the condo.

  Emma Kirwan was ten years younger than Fina chronologically, but easily ten years older in terms of maturity and carriage. To the uninitiated, Emma looked like an upper-middle-class stay-at-home mom who favored shopping at conservative mall stores. She wore slacks and sweaters and pearls and loafers and probably cut the crusts off her grilled cheese sandwiches.

  To the initiated, Emma was one of the top computer hackers on the East Coast, and despite her appearance, had no qualms about breaking the law. She was a peculiar mix; she regularly engaged in illegal activities, but would wrinkle her nose at The Birth of Venus. Her boob was showing, after all.

  “Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Fina said. She’d left Emma a message before hopping in the shower.

  “That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

  “Do you want something to drink?” Fina asked.

  Emma looked at her. “I’d be more comfortable if you’d put some clothes on.”

  “Oh for Pete’s sake, how does a felon get to be such a prude?”

  “Those charges were dismissed,” Emma said, and strode into the living room. She ran her hand over the dining room table, apparently evaluating its
cleanliness, and when she deemed it satisfactory, sat down and unpacked her laptop and a couple of phones. She pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and polished them with her sweater before putting them on. Everyone expected computer whizzes to be tattooed and grungy, but given younger generations’ general facility with technology, they were coming on the scene in all shapes and sizes.

  “Fine. Wait a sec.” Fina went to the bedroom and pulled on a thong, bra, cutoff shorts, and a T-shirt. She pulled her hair into a loose bun and walked back into the living room. “I’m wearing a thong. Is that too scandalous for you?”

  “It’s too much information.” Emma pushed her glasses up her nose. “What have you got?”

  Fina handed the memory card to Emma. “I’ve copied a list of contacts from another phone. I didn’t get the whole thing, but I want you to download it and see if anybody looks interesting.”

  “Interesting? You mean the usual?”

  “Yup. Arrests, debts, deaths, any names you recognize. I’m trying to find a business owner’s name. The list is from an employee’s phone.”

  Fina got on her other phone and left a message for Hal, her secret moneyman. She gave him the address of Ridleys and asked him to see what he could come up with. Despite the brief interludes of violence, a lot of Fina’s work consisted of sorting through information and waiting for some piece to rise up and take on new meaning. It was like looking at op art; it was usually when you were on the brink of giving up that the image revealed itself.

  Fina went to the kitchen and stared at the inside of the fridge, searching for a snack. Emma interrupted her reverie. “Fina! Someone’s at the door.”

  She closed the fridge door and grabbed a bag of Nutter Butters from the pantry. “Hi,” she said midmunch when she opened the front door to Cristian.

  “Hey. Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

  “Sure.” She led him in and introduced him to Emma. Cristian said hello and raised an eyebrow to Fina.

  “Can we go in the other room?” Cristian asked and gestured toward the bedroom.

  Fina walked into the room and tossed her wet towel onto the floor. She kicked the duvet toward the foot of the bed and propped a pillow behind her back. Cristian sat down next to her.