by Ingrid Thoft
Hal crinkled his brow in anxiety, with maybe a dash of disgust thrown in. “Don’t hurt yourself, Fina. Oh, I almost forgot. He’s very ill. Chester Duprey.”
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He had a massive stroke and didn’t regain much use of his body.”
“Is his mind intact?”
“I don’t know. It’s costing them a fortune, though, taking care of him.”
Fina altered her scratching pattern. “I cannot fucking believe this.”
“Which part?”
“That Chester Duprey owns Mode Accessories.”
“Do you know him?”
“No, but as of this morning, I know his wife.”
Hal’s face fell. “So this isn’t news?”
“Hal, this is more than news. You made a connection for me that I didn’t even know I was missing.”
Hal beamed. “That’s a relief.” He finished his water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he stared off into space for a moment. “I still don’t know what Mode is a cover for, though.”
“That’s okay,” Fina said, and tossed the lobster fork onto the coffee table. “I think I do.”
“Why am I tagging along? Is she a big girl? Physically threatening?”
“No, but your presence does prompt people to be particularly candid. Mostly, I just need another set of ears.”
Milloy rolled his eyes.
“Ears I can trust,” Fina said. “Plus I just like having you around. You smell good.”
“Thanks.”
They pulled up to a four-story, white brick row house near Huntington. Unlike its richer counterparts on Beacon Street, the structure didn’t boast a yard or an elaborate staircase. The windows were flush to the building, and the roofline was utilitarian, minus any detailed molding or decoration.
Fina leaned on the bell next to Olivia’s name. “I don’t know if she’s holding back or if she just doesn’t know stuff. I liked her this morning.”
“But you’re a fickle woman, Ludlow.”
“Not fickle. Flexible. Open-minded. I’m willing to believe all kinds of shit if I can prove it.”
“Who is it?” A young woman’s voice carried through the speaker.
“It’s Fina Ludlow, Olivia. I hate to bother you, but something’s come up, and I really need to talk to you.”
“I was on my way out.”
“It won’t take long, I promise.”
Fina and Milloy waited for a moment in silence.
“Okay. Come up.” The door buzzed, and Milloy pulled it open and followed Fina inside. They climbed the stairs to the fourth floor and knocked on the door of apartment 4C.
Olivia opened the door and spent an extra moment checking out Milloy.
“This is my friend Milloy,” Fina said. “Milloy, this is Olivia.”
They shook hands, and Olivia gestured toward a futon. The apartment was a studio with a small kitchen against one wall and a tiny bathroom off the main room. The table was covered with a white tablecloth, on which sat lots of shiny little pieces.
Fina walked over to take a closer look as Milloy sat down. “What’s all this?”
“I make jewelry. Just a hobby.”
Beads and charms and bits of silver cluttered the workspace along with pliers, wire cutters, and a small butane torch.
“Looks like a pretty serious hobby.”
Olivia shrugged. “Less messy than painting, but challenging and a little dangerous.”
“Oh God, don’t tell her that,” Milloy said, and rubbed his eyes. “Sounds right up her alley.”
“What’s up?” Olivia asked. “I really was on my way out.” She was wearing tight jeans and a tank top that showcased her cleavage.
“What do you know about Bev Duprey’s husband?” Fina asked.
“I know she has one, and he’s sick.”
“Was he ever involved in the business?”
Olivia shook her head. “Not when I was there. I think he might have stopped by once or twice before he got sick. Why?”
“What other businesses does Bev run?”
Milloy watched the exchange with his arms spread across the back of the couch. Fina sat down next to him, but Olivia remained standing.
“The only business I know for sure is the one I worked at,” she said, and glanced at Milloy.
“You can talk in front of him,” Fina said, indicating Milloy. “He’s cool.”
“I already told you. I worked at the escort service—as a booker,” she hastened to add while looking at Milloy. “That’s it.”
“But you just said it was the only business you knew for sure. What other businesses did you suspect Bev was running?”
Olivia walked over to the table and picked up a piece of silver. It was brushed, and tiny depressions had been hammered into its surface. She held it up. “I think it’s going to be an earring.”
“Olivia . . .” Fina said.
“Look, I hate that bitch, all right? But she’s a scary bitch. If she finds out I’ve been ratting her out, she’ll come after me.”
“How would she know you ratted her out? I bet she’s made her share of enemies over the years.”
“She’s powerful. She knows people.” Olivia put the metal back on the table and sat down in a faded upholstered chair next to the couch.
“I won’t let her hurt you,” Fina said. “We won’t.” Milloy raised his eyebrow at Fina, but she ignored him. “Tell me about the business in Framingham.”
Olivia’s eyes widened. “You know about Gratify?”
“Yes,” Fina bluffed, “but I’d like to hear it from you.”
Olivia took a deep breath. “Okay, the escort service is her pet project, almost like her charity. She pretends she’s making men happy and empowering girls. Some ridiculous shit like that, but you can only grow it so big, right? You’ve got to keep it small to stay under the radar.”
“Right . . .” Fina prodded. She had an inkling where this was going. Milloy glanced at her.
“Bev likes making money.”
“So she’s in porn?” Fina ventured.
Olivia nodded.
“But porn isn’t illegal,” Fina said.
“No, but there are laws that govern it, and she doesn’t always obey them. And even if porn isn’t illegal, it’s low-class. She doesn’t want to be associated with that.”
“But why have the escort service if she can make more money with the porn?”
“I told you. She likes the escort service. If she had her way, she would only have Prestige, but times have changed. You have to keep up with technology to stay relevant.”
“So what happens in Framingham?”
“Websites. Live chats. You know, where you log on and ask the girl to do stuff, and she follows your orders.” She looked at Milloy.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not into that garbage,” he said.
“She’s got a bunch of studios set up to look like bedrooms. Sometimes there are half a dozen girls there, each in their own room. Doing shit so some chump in Kansas can jack off.”
“Gross,” Fina said, “but I still don’t get the need for secrecy.”
“It’s the girls. Some of them are underage. Some of them are illegal. And it’s not like the workplace is up to snuff. She doesn’t want a visit from OSHA.”
“So Bev uses her husband’s larger corporation as an umbrella for her various activities? What about Mode Accessories?”
“Like I said, I don’t know for sure, but I guess it’s a front for the porn business.”
“I don’t get why she’d risk using underage girls. There are plenty of pretty girls who’ll do the work.”
“But they look old,” Olivia said, and Fina looked mildly offended. “You know what I mean. They look like adults. They have to
look young and perky. And a lot of the girls are runaways. Bev sucks them in and bleeds them dry.”
“Does she use any of the same girls for both businesses? For porn and escorts?”
“Hell, no. It’s like the difference between thoroughbreds and mutts. I’m not saying the porn girls aren’t pretty, but they’re not presentable in the way that the Prestige girls are. The Gratify girls are the feet paddling furiously beneath the surface, and the Prestige girls are the swans on top.”
“I get it.”
“And with the clients from the escort business? Bev would never risk using a girl who wasn’t carefully selected. Those men are powerful. Discretion is one of the biggest selling points.”
“What kind of men?” Milloy asked. He studied the stitching on the toss pillow next to him. Fina glanced at him.
“Powerful. Important. In the public eye.”
“Is there another agency those men might use?”
Olivia shook her head. “Prestige is the top. If you can’t get it there, you go to New York.”
“Are there any underage girls at Prestige?” Milloy asked.
“I don’t think so. Not because Bev has scruples, but she wouldn’t trust them. She’s got girls who look damn young, though.”
“Is there a girl named Molly?” he asked. Fina closed her eyes and rubbed her temple with her free hand.
“Young, blond? Yeah. How do you know Molly? I thought it wasn’t your thing?” Olivia asked with a smirk.
“I know her,” Fina said. “Does she work for anyone other than Bev?”
“Not if Bev has anything to say about it. No freelancing allowed.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“You good?” Milloy asked Fina.
She nodded. “I got what I need.” She stood up and moved to the door. “Thanks, Olivia. I really appreciate your help. I’ll keep you out of it. Did you call Matthew yet?”
“Left a message earlier today.”
“Let me know if he doesn’t call by tomorrow.”
The trip downstairs was a quiet one, both Fina and Milloy caught up in their own thoughts.
In the car, he turned up the air conditioner and drove past the Museum of Fine Arts. He wended his way through the Fens and found a place to pull over on Park Drive.
“So?” he asked once he’d put the car in park.
Fina took a deep breath. “So.”
Milloy waited a moment. “Talk to me.”
“So, the escort, Brianna, worked for the madam, Bev Duprey, who is also the madam for my brother’s escort, Molly. Bev also runs a porn business in the MetroWest area, and my sister-in-law had Bev’s number in her recipe box.” Fina turned to look at him. “Any other fucked-up detail I’m forgetting?”
Milloy shook his head. “I can see why you wanted an extra pair of ears. I’m surprised blood isn’t pouring out of yours.”
“Oh, just wait. The night is but a pup.”
Milloy dropped Fina at Nanny’s, where she changed her clothes and went down to the workout room on the fourth floor. She jacked up the volume on MTV and the speed on the treadmill and ran until the sweat covered her skin in a glistening coat. Her injured wrist ached and itched, but she ignored it and just kept running. Another resident poked her head in at one point, perhaps to ask her to lower the volume, but beat a hasty retreat when she saw Fina running as if her life depended on it.
After an hour and ten minutes, she punched the buttons to slow down the treadmill and caught her breath as sweat stung her eyes. She hadn’t figured anything out on the machine, but her twitchy energy had abated.
Upstairs, she itched inside her cast with the lobster fork and gulped down a large glass of water. Her cast was starting to emit an aroma. Maybe Milloy had a saw that would make quick work of the restraint.
Fina blotted her face and neck with paper towels, refilled her glass, and took it into the living room, where she stood at the windows overlooking the harbor. The last vestiges of twilight reflected off the jets departing Logan. A dinner cruise passed through the no-wake zone.
Fina finished her water and stripped off her clothes in the bathroom. She showered, pulled on shorts and a T-shirt, and wandered into the kitchen.
Her workout had resulted in a powerful hunger, so she opened the cabinet and started rummaging. Fina got groceries delivered every few weeks—not really groceries, more like indestructible foodstuff—but her reserves were getting low. In the far recesses of the freezer, she found a half-empty carton of Karamel Sutra ice cream. She grabbed a spoon and napkin and carried the pint and a diet soda into the living room.
Her first spoonful was interrupted by a knock on the door.
“It’s Matthew,” a voice called from the other side.
Fina let him in, lay down on the couch, and resumed her meal. Matthew pushed her feet over and sat down.
“Why are you flushed?” he asked her.
“I just did a hard workout.”
He looked at her wrist and shook his head. “I heard about your little run-in. That thing is going to be a biohazard in no time at all.”
Fina held the pint of ice cream out to him. Matthew shook his head.
“What brings you to my neck of the woods?” Fina asked.
Matthew’s smile widened.
“Oh, right. Your friend with benefits lives down here. Doesn’t she want you to make an honest woman of her?”
“Hardly. She’s a partner at Stokes and Williams. She just wants a reliable roll in the hay and then some legal pillow talk after the fact. And she’s trying to get me to jump ship to her firm.”
“That’s an interesting recruiting technique. Are you considering it?”
“What? Leaving the firm?”
“Yeah.”
“Nah. I know you think it’s an advertising ploy, but we do actually stick up for the little guy.”
“I know you do. I investigate a lot of the cases, remember?” Fina didn’t agree with everything that Ludlow and Associates did, but she knew that without them, a lot of grievously injured people would be truly screwed. What happens when you’re a thirty-nine-year-old single mother of three and you get injured in a car accident that’s the other guy’s fault? One stroke of bad luck and the precarious dominoes of your life begin to fall: hospital bills, lost wages, day care costs. Lots of people were a paycheck away from disaster, and the Ludlows kept that disaster at bay. Sure, they made lots of money in the process, and punishment wasn’t always meted out fairly, but Fina wasn’t sure that negated the good they did. Ludlow and Associates operated in the gray.
“I’m not planning on going anywhere, but I didn’t come over here for career counseling.”
“Glad to hear it. Hey, did you hear from a woman named Olivia? About a job?”
“She’s coming in next week for an interview. You think she’s good?”
“I don’t know what she’d be like as an assistant, but she’s smart and sassy. I liked her.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Great.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and tapped a few buttons. “So I’ve reviewed a chunk of files and pulled out names from those that were most lucrative.”
“You mean those in which the defendant was essentially destroyed.”
“You say tomato, I say tomahto.” He handed her the phone. “It’s just a portion of them, but I thought you’d want info as soon as I got it.”
“Yes, thanks.” Fina studied the screen. She felt a headache creeping across her brow, probably from her overexertion.
“Anything?” Matthew asked.
“Gimme a sec.”
Fina scrolled down the list. “Holy fuck!” She sat up.
“What?” Matthew leaned over and grabbed the phone from her. “Which one? Holbrooke?”
“No.”
“Duprey?”
“Yes! Yes, Du
prey!”
“All right, calm the fuck down.”
“What is that case?”
“I can only tell you what’s on public record.”
“Fine. Tell me.”
“Give me a second to pull up some notes.” Matthew reached into his shiny leather briefcase and pulled out a slim laptop. He punched a couple of buttons and studied the screen.
Fina kicked him gently with her foot. “Hurry up.”
“Don’t you have any pills you can take, you know, to calm down?”
Fina let her head fall back and stared at the ceiling.
“Okay. Here it is. It was a med mal case. Big ruling in our client’s favor: $8.9 million.”
“So how does Duprey figure into the case?”
“He was one of the doctors.”
“Okay. What were the specifics?”
Matthew looked at the screen. “Right. This makes sense. It’s a cerebral palsy case. That explains the steep damages.” Matthew looked at her. “You’ve worked one of those cases, right?”
“I’ve done some background work, but then it gets passed on to the expert witnesses.”
“Right, well, in this case, a woman, Jackie Watson, went into the hospital, Cincinnati Unified—”
“That sounds like a chemical company or an airline.”
“She went into Cincinnati Unified to deliver, no problems with her pregnancy, but one thing leads to another, and she ends up with a severely disabled baby, Amber Watson.”
“Is that how you won in court? ‘One thing leads to another’?”
“No, it was a little more complicated. One of the ob-gyns was Connor Duprey.”
“Bev and Chester Duprey’s son. So he was found responsible?”
“How do you know who his parents are?”
“Long story. So was he found responsible?”
“He, two other doctors, and Cincinnati Unified.”
“Did he lose his license?”
“It was suspended. Can’t practice medicine for the time being. His insurance is on the hook for a huge payout. The usual.”
“Why such a huge payout?”
“The CP was severe. It costs a ton of money to care for a kid like that.”
