by Ingrid Thoft
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know, but there has to be a reason why Carl is siding with him. More than just being loyal to his son.”
“Well, whatever’s going on, you have to do something about Rand.”
“Yes, thanks. I’m working on it.”
Risa starting walking again, and Fina fell into step next to her.
“What about Scotty and Matthew?” Risa asked. “Where do they stand on this?”
“They want to deal with Rand as much as I do.”
“And the police? Have you told Cristian?”
“Yes. He knows about it, but for Haley’s sake, we haven’t gone the criminal charges route.”
“What does that leave?”
“I’m trying to build a case against him that my father won’t be able to ignore.”
“Meaning?”
“Rand has always gotten into trouble. I’m gathering info about his crimes, which I will present to my father. Either he’ll have to deal with it or I’ll find someone who will.”
“I don’t understand how I can be useful.”
“I tracked down a woman who Rand raped in college, and spoke with another victim, but she denies even knowing him. I have another name to pursue, but I’m starting to feel a little desperate. Is there anything you can think of? Anything that Melanie ever told you that might help?”
“Like what?” Risa’s color dulled. “Did Melanie know what he was doing to Haley?”
“I don’t know.”
“She couldn’t have,” Risa insisted. “She would never have let that happen.”
Fina suspected that her sister-in-law knew, but without proof, it wasn’t a conversation worth having.
“Do you know if Rand was ever involved with someone else?” Fina asked. “Or were there any weird relationships you can think of?”
“I just can’t believe any of this. Not that I don’t believe you, I just mean that I can’t process it.”
“I understand. It’s a lot to wrap your brain around. Instead of thinking about what Melanie did or didn’t tell you, can you think of any stuff that seemed off?”
Risa stopped and grabbed Fina’s arm again. “Do you know the DeMarcos’ daughter?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Kelsey DeMarco. She used to babysit a lot for Haley, would even go on trips with them.”
“That’s vaguely familiar.”
“Well, it seemed like everything was great, and then one day, she stopped babysitting for them.”
Fina’s stomach muscles began to tighten. “When was this?”
“When Haley was around six or so.”
“How old was Kelsey at the time?”
“Sixteen or thereabouts.” Risa turned around and started walking back in the direction from which they had come. “Oh no, Fina. Really?”
“What does she look like?”
“Kelsey? I haven’t seen her in years, but she was a very pretty girl. Petite with long blond hair. I think she was a cheerleader in high school.”
Fina was silent. They passed a couple of teenage boys loitering on a set of stairs, doing tricks on their skateboards with varying degrees of success.
“Can you get me contact info for Kelsey DeMarco?”
“I’ve got her mom’s number, but I don’t know where Kelsey is these days.”
“Could you call her mom? Make an excuse if you need to? I really need to talk to her.”
Risa nodded. “You have to be careful, Fina. If people catch wind of this, the rumor mill is going to go into overdrive.”
“I know. I’m walking a very fine line, but it’s a risk I have to take. We can’t sit back and watch him wreak havoc.” Fina dodged a pile of dog poop, silently cursing the owner. “I’m sorry I had to tell you, Risa, but given that Haley is spending so much time at your house, I thought you should know.”
“You were right to tell me. I just feel sick to my stomach is all.”
They arrived at Risa’s car, and Fina leaned against the hood. “Sorry about ruining your walk. We could have kept going.”
Risa made a gesture of dismissal. “Forget the walk.”
“As soon as you get me Kelsey’s info, I’ll try to track her down.”
“Okay.” Risa pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. Your family has been through so much misery.”
Fina inhaled the scent of Risa’s perfume before pulling away. “Keep in touch.”
Fina returned to her car and watched her friend drive away.
Risa was right. Her family had been through a lot of misery, but they were architects of that misery. With the exception of Haley, none of them was innocent.
• • •
Early Monday morning, Fina accepted a plain brown envelope from Stanley with a sigh.
“Any idea who dropped this one off? Don’t tell me Mrs. Bennigan was being helpful again.”
Stanley shook his head. “I think it was Mr. Samworth this time.”
“Great. So nothing on the security camera?”
“Afraid not. If something dangerous is going on, Ms. Ludlow, I’m going to have to mention it to building management.”
“I’m taking care of it, Stanley. No need to worry anyone else.”
He shifted from one foot to the other. “You just hear about people sending anthrax through the mail, that sort of thing.”
“There’s no possibility of that happening,” Fina said. She had no basis for that statement, but anthrax and most other deadly biogens weren’t available at the corner store. The ransom-note quality of the letters suggested her correspondent was an amateur, and until she had proof suggesting otherwise, she would assume that he or she was an irritating crank.
Fina ripped open the letter and examined the missive. It was similar to the last one, suggesting that Fina mind her own business or else. She tossed the letter on the dining room table, stripped off her clothes on the way to the bathroom, and placed her gun on the vanity next to the shower. If Chad were here, she could shower without the weapon, confident that nobody would bust in while she shaved her legs, causing her to slice her femoral artery. Instead, she kept an ear cocked, just in case someone breached her heavy-duty dead bolt.
Maybe firing Chad had been unwise. What was going to slow her down more: having a shadow or having to watch her back every moment? Ditching him had seemed like a good move on Friday, but now she was second-guessing herself, exactly what her letter writer wanted. That realization pissed her off and hardened her resolve. She’d have to make some concessions given the threats—leg stubble and more time spent looking over her shoulder—but she wasn’t going to turn her life upside down for some schmuck with a glue stick or some coward who couldn’t even do his own dirty work.
Dressed and resolute, Fina decided to dig into the latest papers she’d gotten from Evan. This was the tedious work that was the bread and butter of any investigation, but it wasn’t sexy. Sorting through the dross of Nadine’s life might be a colossal waste of time, but Fina wouldn’t know that until she did it.
The minutiae of life—anyone’s life—were generally boring, but at least Fina felt like she was learning something from the church and neighborhood-related items. Covenant Rising did perform a lot of community service, and with a careful read, Fina could sense the underlying tension between Lucas and Nadine.
The neighborhood association minutes gave her a clear picture of the denizens of the block and the hot topics. Mrs. Anderson wanted a new stop sign installed, and Gil Kressig thought the Fourth of July celebration should start an hour earlier. Jane Covalsky was annoyed that Girl Scouts from the other side of town were selling their wares in her daughter’s territory. Mr. Sheffel’s cockatoo was still missing, and Ronnie McCaffrey wanted to build a swimming pool. It was an active neighborhood with an engaged population.
&n
bsp; After sorting through one box, Fina stretched her aching back and reached for her computer. If money was at the heart of the case, she needed to up the ante. She typed in Covenant Rising’s Web address and watched it load. The church’s website was user-friendly, and parting you from your money was a painless process. Donations could be made to the general operating fund or steered to the Frontier Fund, which supported an orphanage in Africa. Food, medicine, and education were provided to needy children in Angola, and more importantly, at least according to the site, the hope and comfort that only God’s word could provide. Fina didn’t believe that reading a Bible passage was as restorative as antidiarrheal medicine or mosquito netting to guard against malaria, but what did she know?
Two thousand dollars seemed like a good number; big enough to warrant some attention, but not so big as to seem suspicious. Fina donated five hundred dollars to the general fund and the rest to the Frontier Fund and printed out a receipt of the transaction.
Next, she called Christa Jackson.
“Christa, it’s Fina Ludlow.” Fina walked into the kitchen.
“Hi.”
“Do you have a minute?”
“That’s about all I have.”
“I wanted to arrange a time to talk more about Nadine.” Fina stared into the cabinet, her eye moving between a box of Wheat Thins and the box of Hostess cupcakes. Feeling virtuous, she grabbed the crackers.
“I have no time today.”
“I don’t doubt it, but we really need to talk.”
“I’m totally booked, Fina.”
“Anything I can tag along for?” If Christa was going to the ob-gyn, Fina was out, but she didn’t mind pushing the grocery cart if it got her some time with an interviewee.
There was a long pause on the line. Fina brought the crackers back to the couch and took a seat.
“I suppose you can talk to me while I get my nails done,” Christa said. “It’s the only thing I do for myself all week. I refuse to cancel.”
“Understood. I’d be happy to meet you there. Just give me the details.”
“It’s Morning Glory salon in Framingham. Call them and let them know you want to be at the station next to me.”
“I don’t need a manicure,” Fina insisted, examining her nails. She wasn’t opposed to beauty rituals, but she rarely had the time or patience for them, nor were they practical. Picking locks and maintaining one’s manicure tended to be antithetical.
“If you’re going to be sitting there, they should be making some money.”
“Okay, and you’re comfortable discussing Nadine at the salon?”
“Yes. I’ve been going to Han for years. I completely trust her.”
Christa gave her the number for the salon, and they agreed to meet right after lunch.
Fina thought about calling Elaine and announcing she was getting her nails done, but thought better of it. There was no point in getting her mother’s hopes up that she was adopting a new standard of personal maintenance.
• • •
Morning Glory Nail Salon was in a strip mall and looked like every other nail salon Fina had ever visited, not that she’d been to many.
There was a tall reception desk behind which sat a young Vietnamese man. Half of the manicure and pedicure stations were occupied with clients. The Vietnamese aestheticians wore masks, bent over the customers’ hands and feet. The scene reminded Fina why she wasn’t a fan of pedicures; there was something vaguely biblical about having someone wash your feet that did not sit well with her. It was a little too Jesus and Mary Magdalene for her comfort.
On a credenza behind the desk, there was a small collection of bonsai trees and a framed painting of Niagara Falls featuring fiber optics that animated the water.
Fina saw Christa beckoning to her from the back of the salon. She took a seat at the station next to her manned by an older woman.
“This is Han and her sister Thien,” Christa said, indicating her manicurist and the older woman.
“Pick your polish,” Thien said.
The wall behind her featured acrylic shelves lined with bottles of colorful polish. Fina pulled down a dark plum shade and tipped the bottle to read the name, Odessa Destiny. She liked the idea of going bold, but knew that it would chip within a day and end up looking cheap. She swapped it for Honeymoon Sweet, a boring pale pink.
“I’ve been coming here for over ten years,” Christa said, blowing an errant curl away from her nose.
“I can’t remember the last time I had my nails done,” Fina commented.
“I know it’s an indulgence,” Christa said, “but it keeps me sane.” She closed her eyes.
“Sorry to crash it.”
Thien grasped Fina’s hand and started to trim and file her nails. Her motions were swift and assured.
“You wanted to talk more about Nadine?” Christa asked.
“I wanted to talk about Nadine and Paul.”
There was a flutter of movement under Christa’s eyelids before she opened them. “What do you mean?”
“I understand that they dated at one point,” Fina said.
“Who told you that?”
“I’m an investigator, Christa. I find stuff out.”
“They dated, but that’s ancient history,” she said as Han dunked one of her hands in a shallow dish of soapy water.
“When?”
“What does this have to do with Nadine’s death?”
“I’m not sure, but unless you know who killed her, the police and I need to keep asking questions.”
“Obviously, I don’t know who killed her.”
“Okay, so when did your husband and your cousin date?”
She glared at Fina. “The end of high school, beginning of college.”
“Was it serious?”
“It was an on-and-off thing.”
Thien began pushing Fina’s cuticles back with a wooden implement. “Why didn’t you tell me this when we first spoke?”
“Why would I?” Christa asked. “Like I said, it’s ancient history.”
Fina didn’t buy it. If it was so unimportant, why avoid mentioning it? “So why did they break up?”
Christa shrugged. “They just did.”
“And how soon after that did you and Paul start dating?”
“It wasn’t long.”
Fina studied Thien’s fingers as she tended to Fina’s. Her nails were short and ragged with flecks of coral polish. They were a disaster, and Fina couldn’t tell if they were an occupational hazard or the result of inadequate grooming. Either way, they were poor advertising.
“Was Nadine upset that you and Paul got together?”
“I don’t think she was thrilled,” Christa said, “but we were young. Everybody moved on.”
“It must have been a little hard,” Fina suggested. “I saw pictures of Paul at your house. He’s a handsome guy, has a good job, is getting his MBA.”
“Except for the handsome part, none of that was true when we were nineteen-year-olds.”
“Okay, so let’s just stick with the handsome part. It must have hurt Nadine to have her ex take up with her cousin.”
“Believe me, she felt quite superior when I got knocked up.”
Thien had moved on to the buffing and soaking stage of the process. Fina felt uncomfortable with both of her hands occupied and out of her control.
“Got it. So it was never awkward? Having your husband’s ex at family gatherings?”
“She was my cousin before she was his girlfriend. And no, it wasn’t awkward.”
Fina wondered if despite her disapproval, Nadine wasn’t actually jealous of her cousin. Yes, their start was inauspicious, but from the outside, Christa and Paul had built an enviable life for themselves. Nadine had only recently established her family, which was already on the brink of break
ing apart.
“Do you think Nadine and Evan wanted to have more kids, I mean, before the whole church debacle?” Fina asked.
“I assume so.”
Thien suddenly barked at the young man behind the reception desk, and Fina shifted her hand slightly. The manicurist gave her a withering look.
“Well, it’s great you guys were able to put aside your shared history and stay close,” Fina said. “Not everyone would be able to do that.”
“It really wasn’t a big deal,” Christa said, moving one hand in front of a small fan. Her nails were a deep berry color.
“People have family feuds over less.”
Thien applied the polish, three quick strokes up each nail.
“Even if we wanted to, that wouldn’t have been tolerated. Her mom and my dad have always been close.”
“Speaking of your aunt, I haven’t been able to reach her.” Fina swapped hands, narrowly missing crashing her hand into the fan. That would be typical, ruining the manicure without even moving from the chair.
“I’m not surprised. They talked about leaving town for a bit. They’re devastated. There’s nothing they can tell you, anyway.”
Fina would have preferred to be the judge of that, but that was one of the disadvantages of being a private eye. Unlike the cops, you couldn’t force people to talk to you.
Han and Thien finished polishing and then reached into Christa’s and Fina’s bags to retrieve money and car keys. Fina followed Christa to a sitting area in the front window where small UV dryers were lined up. They gingerly slipped their hands under the blue lights.
“How long do we have to sit here?” Fina asked.
“About ten minutes.”
Fina looked annoyed.
“Have a couple of kids,” Christa suggested. “Then you’ll be cursing the invention of these speedy dryers.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
Christa closed her eyes, and Fina watched the blue UV light glowing over her fingertips.
She still wasn’t convinced that the teenage love triangle between Paul, Nadine, and Christa was as amicable as she’d been led to believe.
