Duplicity

by Ingrid Thoft

  “Wait a second, now, wait a second,” Lucas said, like any good car salesman when the customer had one foot out the door. “You don’t need to rush off.”

  “I understand, Lucas. You are extremely loyal, and you need to protect the living. I’m sure I can get what I need from someone else.”

  “Sit back down so we can resolve this.”

  Fina took her seat and waited.

  “I don’t want to speak ill of the dead,” he started.

  “Of course not,” Fina said, although in her experience, people were eager to speak ill of the dead, and why not? Being dead didn’t make you a better person.

  “I don’t want this situation to disrupt the wonderful work that Covenant Rising does in the community.”

  “Of course not.”

  He took a deep breath. “Nadine wasn’t a good fit for the leadership committee. This was a feeling shared by a number of the members, and ultimately, Pastor Greg agreed.”

  “And she wasn’t a good fit because?”

  Lucas wiped his hands on his napkin and tossed it, along with the jelly-stained circular, into the trash. “The only thing we want is to spread the word of Jesus.”

  Fina nodded. Where this was going, she did not know.

  He leaned his forearms on the desk. “Nadine was a troublemaker. She questioned the leadership of the church unnecessarily.”

  “Uh-huh.” From what Fina had seen, there wasn’t any such thing as “necessary questioning” of Pastor Greg or the church’s doctrine. “Is dissent frowned upon?”

  Lucas shook his head. “Of course not, but we value faith and trust.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that everything will be as it should be,” he said impatiently.

  He really was like a car salesman. He talked a lot, but didn’t say much. If Fina wasn’t careful, she’d be putting twenty-five hundred dollars down on a new minivan by the time she left the room.

  “I assume things went more smoothly once Nadine left the committee?”

  Lucas nodded. “They did. There was some healing that had to take place, and we’re better for it.”

  Fina doubted that Nadine would have agreed with that statement, but she wasn’t going to debate life after death with Lucas. If the failure to believe was a deal breaker, any debate with him was a losing proposition.

  “Do the other congregants know that Nadine was kicked off the committee?”

  He winced. “It wasn’t like that. Pastor Greg didn’t make an announcement, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Fina stood once more and extended her hand. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with me, Lucas. I really appreciate it.”

  “Glad I could be helpful.”

  “Please give my best to Heather and the girls. I hope their future cooking endeavors are a little less exciting.”

  “We’re all praying for that.”

  Fina walked out to the parking lot and started up the loaner. During the early days of any case, the list of possible suspects and scenarios often expanded before contracting, and this case was no different.

  If Lucas and Greg had been so threatened by Nadine’s questions, who knew how far they’d go to silence her?

  • • •

  Fina was sitting in traffic when a call came in from Dante Trimonti. He needed to see her ASAP. He was at the Crystal nightclub near Fenway, where he conducted his prostitution business. Fina didn’t love being summoned, but Dante communicated a sense of urgency that she couldn’t ignore.

  The club wasn’t open when she got there, so Fina went around to the service entrance and announced herself to the muscular young man overseeing a delivery of kegs at the back door.

  “I’m here to see Dante,” she said. “Fina Ludlow.”

  His eyes descended her body and climbed back up again.

  “He called me in to audition for the ‘soccer mom’ opening,” Fina said.

  The bouncer smirked. “I’ll be back.”

  She waited thirty seconds, then ducked inside the club.

  Crystal was unassuming from the front, but it filled an entire lot—from the street all the way back to the Pike. The walls were black and the ceilings low. Empty of sweaty young revelers, the space looked especially dirty and desolate, smelling of beer and unwashed socks. There was a young man in the DJ booth, but no music, and behind the bar that stretched across one side of the room, men dressed in black were unpacking boxes of booze.

  Fina went upstairs to the VIP section and found the bouncer in conversation with Dante, who sat in a large, circular booth. Dante nodded when he caught sight of her, and the bouncer sneered.

  “I told you to wait outside,” he said.

  “No, you didn’t.” She looked at Dante. “Is he supposed to be security? He left the back door wide open.”

  “Joey! What did I tell you about that?” he asked the bouncer. “Don’t be a bonehead!”

  “I told her to stay,” Joey insisted.

  “No, you didn’t, but even if you had, I’m not a dog.” Fina plopped down in the booth. “Could I please have a diet soda with a lime?”

  “I’m not a goddamn waiter.”

  “Get her the drink and get me a beer,” Dante said. “Then go down and check that door.”

  They watched Joey place the order at the VIP bar and throw a nasty look in Fina’s direction before descending the stairs.

  “Why are you so testy?” Dante asked.

  Fina took a deep breath and dismissed the various retorts that came to mind. “I’m my usual cheerful self. What was so important I had to come to the land of hoes and he-men?”

  He grinned. “I don’t take that as an insult, you know.”

  Dante was handsome, but it was hard to get past his slicked-back hair and tight T-shirt. In his early twenties, he was in great shape, but had an air of spending too much time on his appearance. Vanity wasn’t attractive in men or women.

  “What’s the story with my car?” Fina asked.

  “Your tires are special order. It’s going to take a few more days.”

  The bartender came to the table with a bottle of Dos Equis and a tall glass of soda with a lime wedge tucked over the lip. Fina squeezed the lime and dropped it into the glass.

  “You could have told me that over the phone; what’s so important?” she asked.

  Dante took a swig of his beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Don’t be so bitchy,” he said. “I’m doing you a favor.”

  “What favor is that?”

  “Passing on information.”

  “Okay. I appreciate it.”

  Dante stretched his arms across the back of the booth. “You’re going to owe me.”

  “Fine, but there are some things I won’t do.”

  He grinned. “That wasn’t what I had in mind, but I’d consider it.”

  “That makes one of us. Come on, Dante. Cut to the chase.”

  “I haven’t found the guy who slashed your tires, but you’d better watch your back.”

  “Because?”

  “Someone has ordered a beatdown on you.”

  Fina put her glass on the table. “A beatdown? There’s a contract to beat me up?”

  “That’s what I heard.”

  “And from whom did you hear this?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t give you any one name. It’s just chatter.”

  “Since when do you work for the NSA?”

  The corner of his mouth arched up in a smirk.

  Fina sat back and sighed. The escalation wasn’t surprising, just annoying. “So has anyone accepted this contract?” she asked.

  “Last I heard, there were no takers. People don’t want to mess with you. You have a reputation for being a crazy bitch.”

  Fin
a shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”

  “Yeah, but eventually, someone is going to sign up for the job. It’s good money.” He took a drink.

  “What’s the going rate for beating me up these days?”

  “Five large.”

  Fina’s mouth dropped open. “That’s it? That’s insulting.”

  “People kill for less than that, Fina. You should be flattered.”

  “Yet, somehow, I’m not.”

  “You need to watch your back.”

  “I need more info. You’ve got to give me a name.”

  “I don’t have one to give you.”

  “Dante, I can’t stop it if I can’t track down the order.”

  “Uh-huh, and what happens to me when it gets out that I sent you on a fishing expedition?”

  “I’ll be discreet.”

  He screwed his face up in disbelief. “Right.”

  “At least tell me someone else who can confirm it. Who else was privy to this chatter?”

  He considered the question for a moment. “Try Glen Sullivan. He might have heard something.” Glen Sullivan was a low-level con who specialized in small-time scams and fraud.

  “Thank you.” Fina used the straw to push the lime to the bottom of the glass. “This is very inconvenient.”

  Dante shook his head and broke into a big smile. “You are a crazy bitch.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Most people would be scared knowing they’ve got a target on their back; you’re just annoyed.”

  She held up her hands. “You expect me to curl up in a ball and cry?”

  “So what are you going to do?” Dante asked.

  “Like you said: Watch my back.” Fina pushed herself out of the booth and put her bag over her shoulder. “I do appreciate the heads-up, Dante. I owe you.”

  “I look forward to collecting.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, tiger.”

  Fina left through the front door so she wouldn’t have to see Joey again and revisit his poor performance evaluation. She zipped open her bag and gripped her gun in her hand. Her weapon didn’t do her any good if she couldn’t access it or, worse, if someone else grabbed it from her bag in a struggle. Maybe it was time to dig her hip holster out of her closet.

  Making fashion decisions was so tedious.

  FIFTEEN

  “Pastor, do you want the worksheets on the altar or in each pew?”

  “It doesn’t matter, Betty!” Greg sparked at his secretary.

  She dipped her head down like a dog that had been kicked, which only irritated Greg more. He liked being in charge, but occasionally, it got tiresome.

  Greg took a deep breath and placed a hand on Betty’s shoulder. “Forgive me, Betty. I’m sorry I snapped at you. The events of the past week have made me weary.”

  “You don’t need to apologize, Pastor. I can’t imagine the responsibility you have to bear during this difficult time.”

  “I just keep reminding myself that everything is part of God’s plan. Even the suffering and the trials.”

  Betty nodded and grasped the pile of worksheets to her chest.

  “Why don’t you put some in every pew,” Greg suggested.

  She smiled and left to attend to her assigned task. He watched her start down the aisle and wondered at her satisfaction with having a designated job. The world really was full of people who just wanted to be told what to do.

  Greg turned from his spot in the doorway so he could scan the lobby. There were small clusters of members chatting and laughing, and on the other side of the glass doors, some kids kicked around a soccer ball. He was surprised to see Gabby and Lucas standing in the open coat closet, deep in conversation. Lucas was leaning over Greg’s wife, like a tree that climbs higher than a neighboring shrub. His face was pulled taut, somewhere between a frown and a grimace. Gabby’s lips were set in a straight line, and when she opened them to speak, she pointed her finger at Lucas for emphasis.

  What were they discussing? Greg knew that Gabby rubbed some congregants the wrong way, but it was mostly just the young wives who felt threatened. Despite having two babies in quick succession, Gabby had maintained her figure and could pass for a college coed. Most people looked up to Gabby, but sometimes, feelings veered into envy.

  Lucas looked over and noticed Greg watching them. Lucas raised his hand in a meek wave. Gabby gestured as if to recapture his attention. They shared thirty more seconds of conversation, and then broke apart. Lucas moved over to join some other members, and Gabby drifted over to Greg.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, looping an arm around her trim waist.

  “Of course.”

  “It looked like you and Lucas were having a tense discussion.”

  “You know Lucas. He wants everything just so. He really should ‘let go, let God’ a little bit more.”

  “Some people struggle with their faith more than others.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Did you make that appointment with Dr. Reilly?” Greg asked.

  Gabby took a step back and removed his hand from her waist. “I told you not to bug me about that.”

  “And I told you that we need to figure out what’s wrong.”

  “Nothing’s wrong. Now who’s struggling with his faith?”

  “We need to set an example for our followers, Gab. This isn’t about you and me.”

  “Right.” She crossed her arms.

  “How can we expect them to follow our path if they don’t see its blessings?” he asked.

  “Fine. I’ll make the appointment.”

  Greg pulled her into a tight hug. “I knew you would do the right thing.”

  Across the room Lucas was watching them. Greg smiled and waved his hand.

  If things went his way, they might have an Easter miracle to share with the congregation.

  • • •

  She hadn’t even been beaten up yet, but Fina was already feeling beaten down. She lay on the couch, the bottoms of her feet pressed against Milloy’s thigh. They were watching a TV show about the weird foods found in China, and Fina was glad she’d already eaten.

  “Do you want to be my bodyguard?” she asked Milloy.

  “Is that code for something or a real question?”

  “It’s a real question. There’s a contract out to beat me up, and I’m toying with the idea of taking additional precautions.”

  “That doesn’t sound like you.”

  “I know. You’re the only person I can think of who I would want to fill the position.”

  “Does Cristian know about this?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You know I’d do it if I could, but I’m booked solid right now.”

  “I assumed as much, but I thought I’d ask.”

  “You should call Dennis.”

  “Maybe tomorrow. Nothing’s going to happen to me here.”

  “You sure about that? Your condo was trashed, and your tires were slashed—in this building.”

  “True, but I had the locks changed, and I’m armed.”

  “I’ll stay over.”

  The offer held appeal. Milloy was easy; she could take him up on it and not agonize over what it meant. His offer wasn’t loaded with emotional baggage, but accepting it might complicate her life. If Cristian found out that Milloy was protecting her, he’d be bullshit.

  “It’s tempting, but I’m good.”

  When he left a couple of hours later, Fina threw the dead bolt after him and sat down in front of the box of Rand’s belongings. She pulled out a couple of snapshots that looked as though they were taken at parties—group shots of young people grinning and holding plastic cups. Fina took pictures of the photos and e-mailed them to Lindsay. Maybe one of the faces would ring a bell.

  With her gun on her bedside
table, Fina climbed into bed and burrowed under the covers.

  • • •

  The next morning, Fina contemplated her options regarding her personal safety and concluded they were limited. She needed to figure out who was after her, and the best way to do that was unencumbered, so she held off calling Dennis. She’d give herself the day to make some headway, and she’d carry her gun and stay on guard. It wasn’t necessarily the prudent thing to do, but Fina was willing to take the risk if it meant she wouldn’t have to hire a babysitter.

  Lindsay had answered her e-mail with the names of two of the girls in the party pictures, which she’d get to after the first order of business, which was a visit to the holy rollers.

  Outside the Gatchell abode, Fina sat for a few moments with the engine idling, studying the house. It was immense and hugged the edges of the modest-sized lot. There was a small yard separated from the street by a tall white fence. The front door was framed by pillars, and a faux balcony crowned the door. Fina never understood fake balconies, but they seemed to be a popular feature in expensive new builds.

  She noticed the three-car garage, which seemed superfluous in a household with two drivers unless you had a thing for fancy cars. Last she checked, pastors weren’t supposed to have a thing for fancy cars. The yard was in the sad New England stage called early spring. The grass looked anemic, and the bulbs hadn’t yet pierced the soil. Leftover sand littered the path, evidence of the winter’s heavy snowfall.

  Fina rang the bell and listened as a thunder of organ music was unleashed in the house. It was followed by the sound of running feet and the bubbling voices of small children. The door swung wide open and revealed two little girls with expectant grins.

  “Hi,” Fina said.

  “Hi,” the older of the two responded. The younger stared at Fina. There was a smear of something across her cheek—possibly jelly—and she was wearing a long-sleeved shirt and tights. The tights were like sausage casings, and the pattern on her Pull-Up was visible through the knit. Fina couldn’t remember if the girls were Chastity and Charity or Mercy and Faith.