Robert saw Hannah's car parked two blocks away from Hannah’s apartment. He parked behind it, then touched the hood of her car. Warm, of course.
He buzzed the apartment and was buzzed in almost immediately. Good, this has wasted enough time.
She opened the door before he had a chance to knock. "Detective," she said. "What's going on?" Nervous Anne again. Oh, okay. "I'm sorry, please come in."
"Thanks," Robert said brusquely as he walked in. The apartment was small but neat. Minimal furnishings, but a shawl on the couch and a collection of polished rocks in the kitchen said that she was trying to make it home. Or at least give that impression.
"Did something happen with Alberto?" Anne, Anna, Hannah, whatever asked. She held her breath, and Robert almost laughed. "Did I say something funny?"
"Did you or did you not really see Alberto Ramon in front of Maria Gomez's house?"
"Excuse me? Yes, I did."
"Have you ever had any interactions with Mr. Ramon before this?"
"Other than to tell him he was a creep? No." She pursed her lips. "Should I get a lawyer?"
"That's up to you. Want to tell me where you were when your boss sent you a text that you needed to get over here immediately so I'd find you here?"
"Grocery shopping, Detective. Is that alright with you?"
"What were you buying? Where do you shop?"
She blinked, incredulous. "Stop & Shop. And I just needed to pick up a few things. Would you like to see my fridge?"
An answer for everything and not afraid of me. "I'll let that go if you can tell me why you were meeting with Alberto Ramon yesterday morning at the South Street Diner."
She rolled her eyes and laughed. "This is like a bad joke. I thought I might have seen you on the street, but then I thought, nah, a detective must have something better to do than follow me around." She focused on him and took a step toward him. "I was meeting with him to tell him to stop threatening Maria. Is that okay with you?"
"I saw you two; he was pissed and desperate, and you looked like one of those mean kids who likes to torture butterflies before you rip off their wings."
"Alberto the Butterfly," she said as if considering the metaphor. "Yeah, I don't think so."
"Want to know what I think? I think you were threatening Alberto."
"And why would I do that?" she asked wearily.
He stepped in now. "You know, I'm not sure yet. But I wonder what it has to do with your Bengali so-called employer and a sweatshop in Chinatown."
She licked her lips. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come on now, I thought it would be beneath someone like Guanyin to play dumb." She froze. "Or do you mind if I just call you Hannah?"
She stood up straight. "Get out."
"Suits me. I'll just ask your brother Josh if the date April 25th rings a bell for him."
She was fast. He didn't see her move; he just knew that she was three inches away from his face. "Oh, we've been talking to the Wakefield police, have we? And you bought every bit of 'well, sir, I'm just the sweet police chief whose hands were tied,' didn't you? 'I couldn't do anything about Jerry Bruges because no one ever wanted to bring charges.' Right. Because seeing a ten-year-old come into school with bruises shouldn't set off anyone's radar? That's a much better explanation than that none of you care unless you see someone getting stabbed in the street, and even then you'll try to write it off as a trick of light so you won't have to lift a finger to help."
"Now, now, Ms. Bruges,” he taunted, “if I didn't know any better, I'd say you had a pretty low opinion of law enforcement."
She stepped back. "You guys are great about parking violations. It's the big ticket items you couldn't care less about." She glared at him. "Stay away from my brother. You people had your chances, and you didn't take them. The one thing that idiot cop probably got right is that he's never done anything, and he doesn't have anything to do with Maria or Alberto. If you go anywhere near him, I will get a lawyer and I will make sure you lose your badge."
"You're going to keep beating up people who go after your big brother? That's not cute after the fourth grade."
Hannah's phone beeped. When she looked at it, Robert could have sworn she was smiling. "Get out, Detective. And if you come here again, I will file a complaint against you for harassment. And this time, I'll have witnesses."
"Have a good night, Ms. Bruges," Robert said as he walked out. She slammed the door behind him. He shook his head, but couldn't stop smiling.
~~~
Technically, Robert still had one more day off.
She'd lived in Wakefield a decade ago, and moved to Dorchester less than six months ago. Extremely protective of her brother. What were the chances she had stayed in Massachusetts?
He did a record search for Hannah Bruges, Anne Brewster, Hannah Brewster, Anne Bruges, and Anna Bruges, just to be sure. But he didn't have to look that hard. There was Hannah Bruges in the Registry of Deeds eight and a half years ago, then eight years ago. "You have got to be kidding me."
There was no way that a fifteen-year-old—or was she fourteen? —could have bought a house on Beacon Hill and then another one in Back Bay. Was it the great-aunt? He looked at the previous names on the deeds; no, they were men. He looked at the first property. She had owned it for about five months before it changed hands and she bought the Back Bay property. No mortgage on either. She paid cash?
Robert spent half an hour searching before he found a realtor for the Back Bay property; another fruitless forty minutes convinced him that one hadn't existed for the Beacon Hill property. "Oh, Hannah, what did you do?" he murmured as he looked up the address for the Back Bay realtor.
Robert arrived at a Washington Street address in the South End forty minutes later. The realtor—a pretty, very thin, dark-haired woman—was nodding as a well-dressed couple talked. She calmly handed them her card, then waved when they got into their BMW.
Robert approached as soon as the BMW was out of the way. "Alexa Nathanson?" She looked up and smiled. He flashed his badge and ID, and her smile dropped. "I called your office and they said I could find you here. I'm Detective Robert Teague."
"What can I do for you, Detective?"
"I'd like to ask you about a property you sold eight years ago in this area."
She smiled condescendingly. "That might be difficult; I sold a lot of properties in this area in 2006."
"I have a feeling you'll remember this one. The buyer couldn't have been more than fifteen."
Alexa’s eyes lit up and she laughed. "Oh, yes, I do."
Robert smiled, relieved. "We are talking about Hannah Bruges, correct?"
"Oh yeah. Even the wealthy foreign clients don't send them over that young. She was one of a kind."
"That she is," he murmured. "There is no record of a mortgage. Did I miss something?"
Alexa shook her head. "You don't need a mortgage when you're paying in cash, and after the sale of the Beacon Hill property, she could have bought two of these things, even at 2006 prices."
"Did you help her sell the Beacon Hill property?"
"I did," Alexa answered as she grinned. "The commission on those two sales was enough for me to buy my own place in Charlestown."
And I'll bet she sweetened the deal a little bit more so you wouldn't ask any questions. "Who did she sell to? Anything odd about the buyer?"
Alexa shook her head. "Not at all. Just the parent of a new medical student who had a residency at Mass General."
"What about the person who had it before her? Did she say she how much she paid for it?"
"No," Alexa said slowly, "but some of the neighbors were still shocked six months later that he'd sold at all. The place had been in his family for three generations. Didn't sound like he was a great neighbor, but he was kind of a fixture in the neighborhood."
Robert nodded absently. "Okay. What about the place in Back Bay? Anything odd about that?"
Alexa paused as if thinking, then shrugged. "He did
n't seem very happy to sell, and he handled the sale himself; no attorney or anyone else with him. And after he'd signed everything, I swear to God, I overheard Hannah tell him to stay out of trouble."
Robert thought a moment. "The property hadn't been listed?"
"Nope."
"She paid market rate?"
Alexa raised an eyebrow. "The low end of market rate."
"And, just to be clear, this isn't how your business usually goes?"
Alexa laughed. "I've seen some shady things, but the next thing I would have expected would be for her to flip the property or mortgage it to finance a business. Nothing of the kind. As far as I can tell, she settled in and she's stayed there, and I haven't heard anything about her taking out equity."
"Thank you, Ms. Nathanson." Robert handed her his card and turned to leave.
"Detective Teague?" Robert turned. "Just one thing: she's a good kid."
--
Robert was in Beacon Hill twenty minutes later, canvassing the neighbors. Most people didn't want to talk about the owner before Hannah, but finally an elderly woman invited him in for tea and cookies. Robert happily accepted each successive cup as she regaled him with rumors about the man.
"Now, you didn't hear this from me," she said in a stage whisper, "but late at night, my daughter sometimes used to see him bring some very young people into his house."
"Really?" Robert asked. He didn't have to pretend to be interested. "How old, would you say?"
"Now, I didn't see it, but my daughter said they couldn't have been more than fifteen." She clicked her tongue as she poured more tea. "But he was always an odd one."
"Young people?" Robert repeated. "Boys and girls?"
The woman nodded, scandalized. "But mostly girls."
"Did your daughter get a good look at any of them?"
"Oh, no," she said regretfully. "It was just too dark to see anything, I'm sorry."
"Please, don't apologize, this is very helpful." He reluctantly took a bite of a cookie. "Did you ever see him after he moved away?"
"Oh, no. But someone ran into his sister the next year, and I think I'd heard he died." She lowered her voice again. "Drug overdose."
"Tragic," Robert said before he sipped some more tea. But still a very good lead.
~~~
Robert drove to the address in Back Bay. He wasn't sure Hannah would show—obviously, she was putting on a show of renting an apartment in Dorchester—but he had to try.
He sat in the car for hours and thought. Hannah was the same age as the kinds of girls the Beacon Hill hump liked, but she was smart and independent enough to use that to her advantage. Something still didn't sit well with Robert. You could never tell, but he couldn't picture fourteen-year-old Hannah as a prostitute. It was unlikely that she would have been a free agent; she'd have been under a pimp's thumb, just like Maria, and it would have been hard to get out from under. Had her parents been pimping her out? Had she blackmailed them into emancipating her?
Robert shook his head. No. That didn't jibe with the nine or ten-year-old little girl who beat up someone four years older for picking on her brother. Or was her brother Josh pimping her out? He shook his head again. He couldn't reconcile that with the picture of a man sobbing in the rain while he remembered an old girlfriend.
More of the same with this girl, and she started young. How long had she been flirting with people who liked to take over someone else's life and use it to their advantage? No, that wasn't the question. Why?
Robert had a feeling that Hannah was right about Powell. He'd be the kind that would downplay anything really seedy going on in his town, but would be more than happy to talk about a loser like Jerry Bruges. Still, judging by his reaction, it was clear Powell thought Hannah's father was more wasted space than threatening. If Bruges had been involved in something like that, Powell probably wouldn't have known.
Robert remembered something Powell had said. Maybe he shouldn't be looking in Wakefield. He took out his phone and typed. A minute later, he nodded. This could be nothing or... He gave the building one last look, then drove away.
Chapter Four
"I think I have something," Robert said as soon as he stepped into Baptiste's office the next morning.
"Good morning to you, too," Baptiste said dourly. "And I've got something for you."
"What's going on?"
"Anne Brewster's attorney called last night. Not me, the commissioner. You and I are meeting them in half an hour. Oh, and I already know that's not her real name. For some reason, that didn't stop the Commissioner from ripping me a new ear."
Robert closed the door. "Captain, ten minutes so I can tell you what I found."
Baptiste looked at the clock. "You have five."
Captain Baptiste and Robert were in Baptiste's office when Hannah walked in with her attorney. The attorney's suit probably cost four months of Robert's salary. Hannah was dressed a little more casually, but more formally than Robert had seen her before.
"I won't waste your time," the attorney began. "My client is here to retract her statement about seeing Alberto Ramon violating his restraining order against her friend. It was an honest mistake, and she apologizes for any confusion."
"An honest mistake?" Robert looked at Hannah. She smiled but didn't say anything. Why was she so satisfied? "I asked your client to verify her statement three times and she insisted she was correct."
"Which is why we felt the need to correct it here," the lawyer answered calmly. "And I would like it noted that two of those times edged very close to harassment, Detective. I would say that your conduct was unbecoming of a Boston police officer."
"I was on vacation," Robert said. "Anything I did shouldn't reflect on the department." Hannah looked like she was biting the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing, but she didn't say a word.
The attorney turned to Baptiste. "Given the circumstances, we're willing to overlook your detective's overzealousness, but I expect any surveillance of my client to end as of now."
Baptiste turned to Hannah. "Ms. Bruges, I'm sorry for any inconvenience this has caused you, and thank you for advising us of your mistake."
Hannah nodded shyly. "Thank you," she said. "And I'm sorry I wasted any of your time."
Her attorney stood. "I think we're done here then."
"Just a moment," Baptiste said as everyone stood up. "Can I have your number? In case we have any questions."
"Of course," the attorney said perfunctorily. He handed Baptiste a card. "But I don't expect we'll have to discuss this matter again."
Baptiste looked at the card and nodded. "Have a good day," he said as Hannah and her attorney walked out.
"What the hell was that?" Robert exclaimed when they were out of earshot.
Baptiste smiled and handed Robert the card. "Notice anything about that guy?"
Robert looked at the card, then grinned. "Hope and White. Same as Alberto Ramon."
"And half of the pimps you said Mitchell netted because of Ramon."
"Did you know when you saw him?"
Baptiste scoffed. "I had a pretty good idea as soon as the commissioner called me."
Robert tipped his head appreciatively. "So why is Hannah using the same law firm that repped Ramon?"
"Now, Bobby," Baptiste said with some exasperation, "who do you think is more likely to answer that: Mr. Ramon or Ms. Bruges?"
"Thanks, Cap."
Robert dialed Ramon's home number as soon as he got to his desk. "Hello?" his mother answered.
"Hello, this is Detective Teague. Can I speak to your son?"
"Ha!" Robert pulled the phone away from his ear. "He left last night. Grabbed all of his stuff and ran out of here. Didn't even ask me for money, that's how quickly he left."
"I'm...sorry to hear that," Robert stammered. "If he comes back, please have him call me." He left his number and then hung up. Didn't ask for money...because someone already gave him some.
Robert would have bet his badge that Hannah
had moved to Dorchester and befriended Maria Gomez for the sole purpose of snaring Alberto Ramon. If someone was reading the papers, a would-be player like that would have caught her attention easily. Once again, he found himself fighting a sneaking bit of admiration for her. A restraining order violation was one of the easiest ways to screw someone like that.
It didn't matter that Alberto was going to make a fuss about it. There wasn't anything to disprove Hannah other than his suspicion. Even if Alberto ultimately fought it off, she'd have a lot of time...
No, there was something she wanted from him, and the complaint was just leverage to get it. She moved quickly, and that told him time was a factor. Hannah was in a hurry for something. What?
He picked up the attorney's card. Who else did his firm represent? That would be impossible to find out on short notice. But...something.
He typed "Hope and White" into the search engine. What am I looking for? Anything. First story the search engine served up: a charitable donation that Amos White had made to the AIDS Action Network. Next story: a fundraiser they were hosting for the charity at the Sheraton, the next night.
Robert sat up. This? He shrugged. Worth a shot.
Chapter Five
The function was scheduled to begin at seven in the evening. Robert made sure he arrived at seven-fifteen; late enough that there would be enough people so he could blend in, but early enough that he could see people walking in.
The man at the desk had frowned when he walked up, but once he showed his badge, he reluctantly let him through. That vindicated his conviction that he did not have much time to find what he was looking for.
He ordered a scotch at the bar after waiting for ten minutes. It wasn't, he told himself, to calm his nerves, but to blend in.
"I'll have whatever he's having," a woman's voice said.
He looked down out of the corner of his eye. He knew who it was, but he was going to play it cool. "Why am I not surprised to see you here?" he said as soon as she got her drink and the bartender walked away.
She turned so her back was leaning against the bar. Her hair was up, and now it looked lighter, as it had in the old picture. It suited her. She was wearing makeup too. A lot of it, but well done. Her dress was beige, close to her skin tone, and with only one strap. The hemline was one of those uneven things that was shorter in the front than the back. She had on heels, and he couldn't help but notice how good her legs looked.
Needs, Wants and Other Weaknesses (The New Pioneers Book 6) Page 4
