by Ingrid Thoft
“No one but you considers tree removal a household chore.”
He waved her away. “It’s frustrating when your abilities decline.”
Fina wiped mayonnaise from the corner of her mouth. “Indeed, but it beats the alternative. I just left the scene of the sudden death of a thirty-two-year-old woman.”
He winced. “Foul play?”
“It didn’t look that way,” Fina said, pulling off a morsel of sandwich. “But still—thirty-two?”
“That’s a tragedy,” Frank said.
She nodded. “Did you ever work on any cases related to churches or religious organizations when you were at the firm?”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “A couple. Churches are tough. They’ve got lots of legal protection and lots of passionate people. Is that what you’re working on?”
“It’s coming to an end, but your description is spot-on. It has not been a satisfying experience.”
They sat quietly for a moment, Fina eating contentedly.
“Everything else okay?” Frank asked.
“Yeah. It’s fine. There’s some family stuff going on.”
He nodded. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nah. I’m good. I always feel better after seeing you.”
“The feeling’s mutual, sweetie.”
Frank turned on the local news, and they watched the top stories. Fina decided to hang around until Peg got home from book club.
She knew there’d be talk of human atrocities, but Peg was worth it.
• • •
Fina was speeding through the E-Z Pass lane when her phone rang. It was Chloe returning her call.
“Are you at home?” Fina asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you mind if I stop by?”
“Sure. Is everything okay? I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”
Fina never knew if it was better to break bad news over the phone, thereby putting the recipient out of their misery, or waiting to share it in person. Given her vivid imagination, not knowing was always worse to Fina, but not everybody shared her preference.
“Yeah,” she lied to Chloe. “I’ll be there soon.”
Fina snagged a resident parking space on the street, and Chloe buzzed her into the building. She was standing in her open doorway on the second floor, dressed in a cashmere sweat suit. Her hair was pulled into a messy knot at the back of her head.
“What’s going on?” Chloe asked once they’d taken seats in the living room.
Fina took a deep breath. “There’s no good way to say this. I stopped by Nadine’s house a couple of hours ago. I’m sorry, Chloe, but she’s dead.”
Chloe was still, the only movement the blood leeching out of her face. “What?”
“I know it sounds unbelievable, but I saw her myself.”
“I don’t understand. Was she in an accident?”
Fina recounted the events of the evening. Chloe’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she hugged herself.
“Can I get you a glass of water or some tea?” Fina asked.
“I don’t know,” Chloe said, at a loss.
Fina went into the kitchen and began opening various cabinets in search of a glass. “Do you have anything stronger than water?” she asked.
“Look in the cabinet next to the fridge.”
Fina found two glasses and a well-stocked bar. She pulled out a bottle of tequila and a bottle of scotch and brought them over to the coffee table.
“What’s your preference?” she asked.
Chloe pointed to the scotch. Fina poured her a shot and then put some tequila in the other glass. She downed it in one gulp. Chloe sipped her drink delicately.
“This is horrible,” Chloe said. “It’s not like we were best friends, but still.”
“I know. That’s why I wanted to tell you in person.”
“I don’t understand what happened.”
Fina placed her empty glass on the coffee table. “There may be an autopsy. You mentioned she’d been sick. The medical examiner will confer with her doctor, and they’ll decide.”
“Her death must be related.”
“Probably,” Fina said. “If they can explain her death, then there’s no need to do an autopsy. Most families don’t want one performed unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
Chloe finished her drink and shook her head when Fina made a move to pour her another.
“Is there anyone you want me to call? Someone to keep you company? Your mom?”
Chloe blinked back tears. “No. I think I just want to be alone.”
“Okay.” Fina rose from the couch and took the empty glasses into the kitchen, where she placed them in the sink. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Thanks, Fina.”
In her car, Fina allowed herself to contemplate the potential upside of Nadine’s death. She felt crummy for thinking that way, but maybe it would put the brakes on Chloe’s bequest, at least temporarily. In her experience, a sudden death either arrested progress or prompted swift action.
Time would tell.
SEVEN
The next morning, Pastor Greg bent his head when he heard a noise at the back of the sanctuary. The footsteps coming down the aisle alerted him to the identity of the distraction. A congregant would take a seat in the last pew and wait patiently for him to finish his worship. Only Gabby would interrupt him in prayer.
She dropped down onto her knees next to him and clasped her hands in front of her.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she told him.
“And you found me.”
“We need to talk.”
He looked at his wife. “I’ll be done shortly.”
Gabby rolled her eyes and pushed herself to a standing position. She sat down in the first pew and pulled her phone out of her pocket.
Greg closed his eyes and added his wife to the list of souls who needed attention. The addition extended his worship by a few minutes, but that seemed appropriate.
“What is it?” he asked, joining her in the pew. She turned her phone facedown in her lap.
“Betty just told me the news about Nadine Quaynor,” Gabby said. “I can’t believe it.”
Greg took a deep breath. “God moves in a mysterious way.”
“I’ll say.”
“We should both be available for those who need our support.”
“Of course.” She turned her body in the pew to face him. “What happened? Betty said she was found dead in her house.”
“That’s what I was told,” he said. “Didn’t she miss some events because she was under the weather?”
Gabby nodded.
“I’m assuming it’s related to that,” he said.
His wife sighed. “She was so young.”
“Makes you thankful for what you’ve got.”
“What’s the plan for the funeral?”
“I need to meet with her family. You should come with me.”
“Great.” She held out her hand and examined her manicure. “I’m sure that will be a hoot.”
“‘Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial,’” Greg said, taking her hand and squeezing it.
She made a sour face. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”
“If it were easy, it wouldn’t be so fulfilling.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’d be very fulfilling if everyone would just do what we wanted.”
Greg grinned. “Come on, Gab. You like the challenge.”
“Pastor,” Betty called from the back of the sanctuary. “You have a call.”
“See you later.” He gave his wife a peck on the cheek and walked up the aisle.
Nadine’s death was sad news, but crises were really just opportunities to lead.
Adversit
y was Pastor Greg’s time to shine.
• • •
“Pitney wants to talk to you,” Cristian told Fina. She’d just finished a run on the treadmill and was bent over, staring inside the refrigerator, contemplating her next move.
“What did I do now?” The phone was moistened by the sweat on her cheek.
Lieutenant Marcy Pitney was Cristian’s boss, and she and Fina had a difficult relationship. They were both strong, hardheaded women who thought they knew best.
“You found Nadine Quaynor. Dead.”
“I would have preferred to have found her alive.” Fina stood up straight. “Wait. How do you know about Nadine?” The Major Crimes unit only took on cases that were high profile and politically sensitive.
“We’re taking the lead on the case, and I saw your name on the report.”
“Why are you guys taking the lead?”
“Because we’re not convinced it was natural causes.”
Fina pushed the fridge door closed. “Huh.”
“You don’t sound surprised.”
“I’m not easily surprised, you know that.”
“What did you think when you found her?”
“I wondered why a thirty-two-year-old would drop dead with no signs of trauma.” Fina walked into the living room and plopped down on the sofa. “What’s the cause of death?”
“TBD.” Cristian paused. “This is not good, you know.”
“That Nadine died under suspicious circumstances? I agree.”
“That you’re involved in the case. Pitney is going to have apoplexy.”
“Excuse me, I knew Nadine first. I’d been trying to talk to her for days. But you don’t need to worry. This has nothing to do with me.”
“You’re going to need to come in and tell us about it anyway.”
Fina groaned. “Can’t we just do it over the phone or during one of our dates? Nothing says romance like an unexplained death.”
“So now you’re eager to call it a date? That warms the heart.”
“I’d rather not deal with Pitney.”
“Too bad. She can’t wait to see you.”
“Ugh. That woman is so demanding.”
“She’s in court, but you should be here when she gets back later this morning.”
“Great. My day is shaping up to be a real corker. I’m scheduled to visit the tenth circle of hell tonight.”
“That’s gotta involve the Ludlows,” Cristian said.
“Yup. A family dinner, including Rand.”
“Promise me there won’t be any gunfire.”
“Well, that limits me,” Fina said, “but it doesn’t rule out all my options. So yes, I promise.”
“See ya.” Cristian hung up.
Fina wasn’t shocked that Nadine’s death was under scrutiny, but it introduced a whole new element into her investigation of the church. Bad publicity and scandals were never good, but if anyone could find the silver lining of a suspicious death, it was Pastor Greg.
• • •
Kentucky Rose, Mother’s Rest, Praying Hands, Going Home. Christa’s stomach flip-flopped as she walked the perimeter of the room and read the small placards by each casket. She and Paul had wills, but she wondered if she needed to be more specific with her wishes. A simple pine box would do the job. She certainly didn’t want her kids to spend money on something that was going to be dropped in the ground only to decompose.
Christa examined an option that resembled Cinderella’s carriage, the corners of her mouth turning down in distaste. Her cousin Nadine was such a control freak; it was hard to believe that, even at her young age, she hadn’t sorted out her funeral arrangements.
Voices floated in from the hallway. The funeral home was in a large old mansion in Dorchester. Dated-looking floral upholstery and the generous entrance hall made the place seem frozen from an earlier decade. Did people need to feel like they were going back in time to deal with this particular present?
The conversation sounded tense, and Christa strained her neck to look toward the hallway. Evan, Nadine’s estranged husband, and Mr. Murphey, the funeral director, were standing close to each other. Evan’s motions were animated and jerky while Mr. Murphey stood still, his hands clasped before him. Christa wondered if she should intervene, but surely the director knew how to deal with an agitated client.
A room next to the casket display held rows of gold bamboo chairs with cream-colored seats. Christa looked around to make sure she wasn’t disturbing anyone—dead or living—and took a seat. Her phone dinged with a new e-mail, and she was silencing it when Evan plopped down in the seat next to her.
“What’s going on?” Christa asked.
Evan smoothed his hand over the cowlick in his sandy-blond hair. The pointy collar of his shirt was folded in on itself, suggesting that he’d dressed in a hurry without looking in a mirror.
“She’s not here,” he said in a hushed voice, sucking in his cheeks and blinking rapidly.
“I’m sure she’ll get here soon. We can still make arrangements.”
Evan shook his head. “They don’t know when she’s coming.”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s still at the medical examiner’s office.”
“And why don’t they know when she’s coming?” she asked evenly. A tide of impatience was rising in her. Christa fought the urge to shake him and insist he get to the point.
“Because they won’t release the body yet. They’re doing more tests.”
“What kind of tests?” Christa had volunteered to help Evan, to spare her aunt and uncle the misery, but she was starting to regret the offer.
He threw his hands up. “I don’t know!”
“Why don’t I speak with the funeral director and see if I can get more information.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle of water. “Have some.”
Evan took a swig. “He won’t be able to tell you anything.”
“But he can tell me who to contact at the medical examiner’s office, and we can still make whatever decisions we need to.”
“Maybe we should come back later.”
Christa put her hand on his. “This isn’t going to get any easier, Evan. Do you really want to come back here a second time?”
His leg started bouncing. “No,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Why don’t you take a look around while I find Mr. Murphey?”
He nodded, and they returned to the room with the caskets. Evan stood staring at them.
Christa left in search of Mr. Murphey and a coherent explanation for the absence of her cousin’s body.
Christ.
Why was she always in charge of finding people’s lost stuff?
• • •
Fina decided to swing by the Ludlow and Associates office on the way to the police station and update Carl. He was finishing up a meeting, so she found an empty conference room and got to work on some administrative drudgery. Generating invoices and writing reports was tedious, but she was conscientious when it came to record keeping and billing. Frank had taught her that there was no good time to do administrative housekeeping, but it was essential to running a successful business.
Not long after she sat down, she got the uneasy feeling she was being watched. Fina looked up to find Rand standing on the other side of the glass, observing her like she was a trapped animal. He strolled in and took a seat across from her.
“I was hoping to see you before the big family dinner,” he said. If ever there were a wolf in sheep’s clothing, it was Rand. He had thick, wavy hair like the other Ludlow men and looked like a younger version of Carl. His full lips and straight teeth—appealing to some women—struck Fina as more threatening than enticing.
“I can’t imagine why,” she said, reaching into her bag. Her brother flinched. “What’s the
matter, Rand? Afraid I’m going to shoot you?”
“You have threatened before.”
“Good point. What do you want?”
He placed one hand on the tabletop and tapped his pointer finger on the surface. His nails were manicured, and his suit was impeccable. “I want to make sure we aren’t going to have any problems.”
“I don’t see why we would, as long as you keep your dick away from underage girls.”
Rand reached across the table and grabbed her wrist. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” he whispered. “Your goddamn filthy mouth.”
“Says the pedophile,” Fina said before bashing his hand down on the table.
“Fuck!” He released his grip and rubbed his hand. “I swear to God, Fina—”
The conference room door slammed shut, and the siblings jumped. Carl stood there, glowering.
“Stop making a goddamn spectacle, both of you.” He strode to the table and leaned over, pressing his hands onto the smooth surface. “I don’t want you to talk to each other. Don’t even make eye contact. Do you understand?”
Fina and Rand glared at each other.
“Do you understand?” He enunciated every word.
“If those same rules apply to Haley and other girls,” Fina said, “then yes, Father, I understand.” She could feel a drop of sweat rolling down her back.
“She’s calling the shots now?” Rand whined.
“Shut up, Rand,” Carl said. He looked at Fina. “Yes, those rules apply to Haley and others.”
“Okeydoke,” Fina said. She gathered her things and stood. “I think dinner is going to be a resounding success. Good work, you two.”
Rand sneered at her. “Unbelievable.”
“Go away, Fina,” Carl said.
“With pleasure.”
She left the conference room and found the nearest ladies’ room so she could lock herself in a stall and fume.
Fina tended to get her way, and if she didn’t, she decided that getting her way didn’t really matter. But that wasn’t true in this case: It did matter. If there was nothing she could do to fix it, Rand would roam free.
She splashed cold water on her face, reapplied her lip gloss, and readied herself to face her father again.
