by Ingrid Thoft
“That AC feels really good,” he said.
“I told you that you’re welcome to crash here if your place gets too hot.”
Cristian grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled on it to generate some circulation. “We can’t find Bob Webber.”
Fina closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Fuck.”
“He’s not at home or at work. We checked his local hangout and some places in the neighborhood.”
“Have you checked his cards and his phone?”
“No. Pitney won’t go for it.”
“He’s a potential witness.” Fina tipped the bag of cookies toward Cristian. He shook his head. She put another in her mouth.
“To what? He may have seen your sister-in-law. So what?”
“So don’t you guys worry when a potential witness disappears?”
“It’s too early for it to be construed as a disappearance. He’s an adult. He can go wherever he wants.”
Fina rubbed her temples with her thumbs. “Fine.”
“If he had something to give us, we’ll just have to find it another way.”
“We?”
“We, as in the cops. We’re going to find out who killed Melanie. It’s just a matter of when.”
Fina shifted on the bed. “We both know that murders go unsolved all the time.”
Cristian ignored her comment and tipped his head toward the living room. “What’s Lois the Librarian working on out there? Something illegal?” he asked.
Fina smirked and ignored his second question. “Another lead. Despite appearances, I’m actually making progress.”
“Any new threats?”
“You mean other than the ones from your boss?”
“She didn’t threaten you,” Cristian said.
“Oh, come on. She dragged me in for questioning because my card was in Brianna’s pocket. Are you also checking Brianna’s dry cleaner and her manicurist?”
“Right—’cause you fall into the same category.”
Fina pulled another cookie out of the bag, then folded it closed and tossed it onto the floor. “No. No other threats.”
Cristian leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I know we’re usually on opposite sides, but this feels worse somehow.”
“Because it’s personal this time.”
“I don’t like it.”
“Neither do I.” Fina picked a hair off the sheet and dropped it onto the floor next to the bed. “It’s going to be over at some point. We just have to keep going.”
Cristian cracked his knuckles.
“Stop worrying,” Fina said. “Everything is going to be okay.” She smiled at him.
He looked at her. “Maybe . . .”
Cristian was proof that the most basic human urge was to believe in the possibility of a positive outcome. He knew better than most people that, oftentimes, things don’t turn out okay. But even he was willing to accept a blanket reassurance when he needed it.
Cristian squeezed her knee, stood up, and she walked him to the front door. “I’ll let you know if Bob Webber turns up,” he said.
“And I’ll let you know . . .” Fina’s eyes drifted to the windows. “. . . anything I can,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She closed the door behind him, went into the bedroom, and changed into a blue sheath dress and high-heeled cork sandals.
Emma packed up to finish the job at her office, and Fina hopped in her car. It was time to shake some trees.
At Joe Winthrop’s apartment, Fina rang the bell and then walked back to her car, which was parked across the street. She leaned against the driver’s-side door and waited for Joe to peek out his window. When his face appeared a minute later, she smiled and waved and hung around for fifteen more minutes. Fina didn’t want him to know about his tail, which was sitting a few parking spaces down, but she did want him to know that he was still on her shit list.
Carl called when she was back on the road and told her to stop by the pool club. She could tell by the tightness of his voice he was in no mood to negotiate, so she got off the Pike and wound through the suburban streets. She parked near the garage that housed the golf carts.
The polo-shirted pool attendant waved her in, and she spotted Patty drying off Ryan near the shallow end. The other two boys were horsing around near the ladder. First, Teddy would hoist himself up one rung and then launch himself backward into the water. Chandler did it next and accompanied his dismount with a high-pitched holler.
“Out, you two,” Patty said, releasing Ryan from the towel. “Pap and Gammy are waiting.”
The boys climbed out, dried off, and gave Fina quick high fives before following their younger brother to the patio, where Elaine and Carl were sitting.
“You were summoned?” Patty asked as she hugged Fina.
“I should have known. A Ludlow show of strength.”
It made sense that Carl would summon the family to a high-profile gathering spot; one of the Ludlow family tenets was that you never backed down. You never hid in shame or kept a low profile regardless of what people were saying about you. Other people might stay at home when one of their family members had been arrested for murder, but not Carl’s family. This approach had been a source of embarrassment at various times during Fina’s youth; it was hard not to feel under fire when your father’s picture was splayed across the Globe for getting off a baby-shaking nanny in a civil trial, but there was an upside to Carl’s approach. If you go into hiding, eventually you have to come out. It’s easier to stay in plain sight.
Fina and Patty walked toward the patio, but were waylaid by Dr. Murray, who struggled up out of his lounge chair. He held his place in the newest John Irving book with one hand and extended the other to shake hands and say hello. A yelp from the Ludlow table prompted Patty to make a hasty retreat, and Fina and Dr. Murray were left looking at each other.
“I was very sorry to hear about your sister-in-law,” Dr. Murray said, and smiled a gentle smile, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle.
“Thank you. I appreciate that.”
“Any progress in your investigation?”
Fina fiddled with a small, silver linked bracelet that tickled her wrist. “Some, but it’s been frustrating. Right up until the moment you solve a case, progress can be slow and hard to measure.”
“Ah. I think I know something about that,” Dr. Murray said.
“Except you never really solve things in your line of work, do you?”
“It’s more a matter of coming up with strategies and solutions, which is actually different from solving something.”
Fina looked over at her family. Carl was conversing with his grandsons while Elaine looked off into space. “Food for thought.” She smiled and nodded at Dr. Murray. “It’s nice to see you.”
“And you. Take care.”
Fina walked to the table and sat down. Scotty was at work, but Matthew was there, sipping a beer and ignoring Elaine’s needling about his romantic life.
“What were you and the good doctor discussing?” Carl asked. He rattled the ice cubes in his drink.
“Nothing in particular. Just exchanging pleasantries.” Fina met Carl’s gaze and held it until he looked away.
“I ordered you a salad,” Elaine informed Fina.
Fina looked at her mother with wonderment. “I don’t like salads. You know that.”
“We can share,” Matthew offered. “I got a burger.”
“She doesn’t need a burger,” Elaine said, and she sipped her cocktail.
Sometimes, Fina had to fight the urge to reach into her purse and pull out her gun. She didn’t actually want to shoot her mother, but she wondered if the threat of violence would make Elaine back off and let her adult daughter, at the very least, order her own food.
“Where’s Haley?” Fina asked.
; “She’s at her friend Sydney’s house,” Patty said as she took a large sip from her white wine.
“She really should be here with us,” Elaine said.
“She needs to be with her friends right now, Mom,” Patty said. “Just let her be a teenager.” Elaine sniffed, but was silent. Fina was in awe of Patty’s ability to manage her mother. She chalked it up to distance and the fact that Elaine hadn’t raised her. Patty was a good daughter-in-law: She made Scotty happy, produced babies, and followed the family rules. What was it like, Fina sometimes wondered, to not be a perpetual disappointment? Fina was also amazed that Patty would choose to call Elaine “Mom.” She was Fina’s mom, and Fina didn’t like to call her that.
“How about Rand?” Fina asked.
“The office,” Carl said. The adults were silent.
The food arrived, and Fina and Matthew exchanged plates. Everyone focused on the boys, illustrating the real reason people have children: to distract from the dysfunctional relationships amongst the older generations. Fina drained her drink, ate half the burger and all of her French fries before pushing back her chair and standing.
“I’ve got to go.” She looked at Carl. “Work.”
Carl nodded, which diffused any objection Elaine might have raised. Fina bid everyone good-bye, but asked Matthew to walk her to her car. He got up and grabbed his beer bottle from the table. They walked, both noticing whispers and stares that punctuated their progress around the pool. Fina felt grateful, not for the first time, that she had siblings. Being Carl’s kid was a heavy load, even as an adult, but it was easier to bear with someone by her side. This was part of the reason that she and her brothers had stuck close to home as adults, even though that meant staying close to their difficult parents. They were like war buddies, comforted by the bond born out of their shared trauma. She couldn’t imagine what life was like for Haley these days without someone to share the burden of being Melanie and Rand’s kid.
“I asked Rand for access to his files,” Fina said after she’d ducked into the car to start it and turn on the AC. She stood sandwiched between the door and the car.
“He can’t do that.”
“I know. So I suggested that one of you guys take a pass and let me know if there’s anyone I should be looking at.”
“That’s a ton of work.”
“Yup, but haven’t the police asked you to do that already?”
“Sure, but we’ve been stalling.”
“Well, it needs to be done.”
Matthew sighed. “Okay. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
Fina found a coffee shop and took advantage of their Wi-Fi and air-conditioning for the next few hours. She bought an iced latte and set to work updating her invoices and time sheets. She treated Ludlow and Associates like any other employer and always provided a detailed breakdown of her investigations to the firm. She had a handy portable receipt scanner that enabled her to make a copy of all her receipts, which she then attached to an electronic invoice.
Although most of her cases were provided by the family firm, Fina was still the owner of her own business and was meticulous about record keeping. It made life much easier in terms of testifying in court or filing taxes if she could back up her claims with documentation, and it came naturally to her. Ludlow family life was practically lived in fifteen-minute increments.
When she was first learning the business, it seemed wrong to take the time to fill out an invoice or track her hours when she was investigating grave injuries like severed limbs and severely disabled children. But she’d learned from Frank that the only way to stay on top of the paperwork was to do it regularly, regardless of the status of an investigation.
Satisfied that her files were in good shape, Fina checked her e-mail and found that Emma had been in touch. She’d attached a file of the names from Donald Seymour’s phone and promised to follow with a more in-depth dossier in the next twenty-four hours. Fina clicked open the file and scanned the names. Nothing jumped out at her.
It was dark by the time she packed up and called Rand to see if he was available. At his house, she let herself in and went downstairs to find him in his office. He was wearing jeans and a Red Sox T-shirt and had his bare feet propped up on his desk. There was a manila file folder open on his lap.
“How was it? Were you in your own cell?” Fina asked.
“It was disgusting, but I managed.”
“I’ve asked Matthew to review the case files and let me know if anyone raises a red flag.”
“Fine.”
The rest of the house was silent and mostly dark. “Is Haley here?”
“In her room. I think she was going to go to bed early.”
“I’m just going to pop up and say hi. I won’t wake her if she’s already asleep.”
“Sure,” Rand said, and looked back at the file.
Fina climbed two stories and came to Haley’s bedroom door. She leaned toward it, but didn’t hear a sound. She knocked softly. When there was no response, she carefully grasped the doorknob and started to turn it. It was locked. Fina tried once more to be sure it wasn’t just stuck, but it didn’t budge.
“Why is Haley’s door locked?” she asked Rand when she got back to the lower level.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Privacy.”
“You let her keep her door locked when she’s sleeping? That doesn’t seem safe.”
“You didn’t lock your door when you were her age?”
“Ah, no. Have you forgotten about Doorgate?”
Doorgate was yet another memorable episode in the Ludlow family history. At the age of fourteen, Scotty had decided that he needed more privacy, more to keep his nosy siblings at bay than his parents. He started locking his bedroom door, which Carl took as a personal affront. He paid for everything in that house, he often reminded them, every door, screw, nut, and bolt. He would have access to every corner of it, 24/7. Scotty defied this edict a couple of times, until the day he came home and found his door off its hinges, leaning against his bedroom wall. That was that.
“I’m not Dad,” Rand said.
“Clearly. I just don’t get what she’s doing in there that would require a locked door. Are you sure she’s even in there?”
“Of course I’m sure. Her room is three floors up from the ground. She’s not as crazy as you were, Fina.”
She leaned on the door frame. “Okay. Well, if you see her, tell her I stopped by.”
“I will give her the message when I see her.”
“Thanks.” Fina put her bag over her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re home in one piece.”
Rand sighed deeply. “Me too.”
Fina nodded and climbed the stairs. Mail was piled on the side table in the front hall. A T-shirt was thrown over the banister, and a heap of socks was strewn on one of the lower steps. Melanie may not have done the manual labor around the place, but she kept their lives on track. It wouldn’t take long for Rand and Haley to go off the rails.
Fina decided to swing by Dante’s apartment in Allston before heading to Crystal. Even though it was ten thirty P.M., it was still early for club-goers. Fina parked and could see light peeking out from the edges of Dante’s venetian blinds. She tread carefully on the porch and opened the front door. As she started down the hallway, Fina noticed that Dante’s door was ajar and an angry voice was coming from his apartment. Reaching into her bag for her gun, she tiptoed to his door and edged forward until she could see into the living room.
Dante was on the floor, his head bleeding. As she watched, a man kicked him in the abs, hard enough that Fina winced in sympathy. There was another guy close to the door with his back to Fina. He was actually the larger of the two, but he stood like a statue, his hands clasped in front of him.
Fina inhaled deeply and took a step into the room. She reached up and cracked her gun against the back of the man’s
skull. He cried out and slumped onto the floor.
The other man stared at Fina in shock, and she leveled her gun at him as he made a motion toward his waistband.
“Don’t even think about it. Ask Dante. I’m itching to blow off someone’s balls.”
The smaller guy slowly raised his hands. Dante’s eyes danced around the room as if he couldn’t make sense of the scene before him.
“Step away from him,” she instructed, and nudged the man on the floor with her shoe. He was motionless.
“Is this your bitch, Dante?” the man asked.
Fina snorted. “Ahh, excuse me. Other way around.” Fina walked forward and put herself between Dante and the man. “I’m sure you have legitimate business with Dante, but I need him right now. So.” Fina nodded toward the door. “Off you go.”
The man looked at Dante and hurled a globule of spit onto his face. “This isn’t over.”
“It never is,” Fina commented.
The man sneered at Fina and nudged his friend with the toe of his boot. The big man groaned and moved slightly.
Fina sighed. “Go, before I do something crazy like call the cops.”
He struggled to pull his sidekick to his feet. Then he threw the larger man’s arm over his shoulder, and they limped out into the hallway.
Fina closed the door behind them and locked it. She put her gun in her waistband and went back over to Dante. “Come on. Can you sit up?” she asked. She dragged him over to the couch. She tried to push him up onto the cushions, but he kept sliding back toward the floor. “A little help, maybe?” He groaned, but didn’t move.
He was too heavy, so Fina gave up. Dante grunted and leaned his back against the couch. Fina went into the kitchen and got a roll of paper towels, a bag of frozen chicken wings, a glass, and a bottle of whiskey.
Dante gazed at her when she came back into the room. She sat down next to him on the floor and ripped off a wad of paper towels, which she blotted on his head wound.
“Put this on your eye,” she said, and handed him the bag of chicken wings. His knuckles were cut and bloody. Fina unscrewed the whiskey bottle and poured a couple fingers’ worth into the glass. She helped Dante bring the glass up to his mouth and steadied it while he took a sip. He winced, probably from the whiskey seeping into his split lip, but after a moment, his body visibly relaxed.
