Duplicity

by Ingrid Thoft

  • • •

  Evan and Molly were on the front porch when Fina pulled into their street. Fina waved and visited with them for a few minutes before heading to Ronnie McCaffrey’s house. Evan didn’t ask why she was visiting his neighbor, but she could read the confusion on his face. She left him to be distracted by his daughter’s chatter.

  Mary McCaffrey directed Fina to the backyard. In the waning light, Ronnie was pounding stakes into the newly pliant earth. The yellow streamers on the ends flapped in the breeze.

  “You’re still working on the case?” he asked. A mallet hung loosely in one hand.

  “I’m wrapping up my part, getting ready to hand stuff over to the cops.”

  Ronnie didn’t say anything. He walked around the perimeter of the large rectangle he’d mapped out in the yard.

  “So this is for the pool, right?” Fina asked.

  “That’s right.”

  Fina dug the toe of her shoe into the loose earth. “You know, Ronnie, I’ve been doing this job for a while and have seen some crazy shit, but I’ve never seen anyone killed over a pool before.”

  Ronnie looked at her, confusion etched in the furrow of his brow.

  “The thing I find most curious,” she continued, “is that, on the one hand, you dedicated your life to helping people, to saving them, and on the other hand, you killed someone who got in your way.”

  Ronnie shook his head. “You seem like a nice girl, but you’re way off base.”

  Fina followed him as he inspected the stakes. “Aren’t you even a little curious as to why I think you did it?”

  “Not especially.”

  Fina stayed a few steps behind him, cognizant of the blunt object in his hand. “Do you think if Ronnie Jr. were alive, you would have done this?”

  He spun around to face her. “Don’t talk about my son,” he said in a flash of anger.

  “I can’t imagine the rage you feel. Some asshole kills your kid and essentially gets away with it. I can understand feeling like the universe owes you.”

  Ronnie’s voice rose. “You make it sound like I live in a mansion with a driveway full of fancy cars.”

  “You’ve got a nice life, Ronnie, and on the occasions when some obstacle appeared, you neutralized it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “When you and Mike O’Brien were up for the same job, Mike came down with a mysterious illness and had to withdraw from the race. And then, he magically got better.”

  Ronnie’s grip on the mallet tightened.

  “And then when Nadine was poised to thwart your plans to be the world’s best grandfather and neighborhood good guy, all of a sudden, she started getting ill.”

  “That’s all coincidence.”

  “But you seemed pretty sure in the minutes from the association meetings that her opposition wasn’t going to be a problem. You even applied for a zoning variance. Seems overconfident unless you knew Nadine wasn’t going to be in the picture much longer.”

  “That’s your proof?” He chuckled. “Neighborhood association minutes and a city permit?”

  “And the cat. I assume he got into the antifreeze. Probably thought he was getting a sweet treat only to drop dead shortly thereafter.”

  “So now you’re blaming me for the cat’s death? A bird flew into our window the other day; I suppose that’s my fault, too?” He smiled, but it was a cold, flat version of cheer.

  “I agree it’s very circumstantial, but it will be catnip to the right DA. Probably someone up-and-coming who wants to make a name for herself.”

  “People like you,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Oh, yes. Let’s talk about people like me. I always love when morally bankrupt criminals want to critique me.”

  “You had everything handed to you, never wanted for anything.”

  “That’s true. I’ve never wanted for material things. But there are plenty of other things I’ve wanted for and didn’t resort to murder to get them. That’s the real difference between us, not our bank accounts.”

  Footsteps echoed on the driveway, and Fina turned to see Cristian and Pitney approaching.

  “Why are they here?” Ronnie asked.

  “I told you. I’m ready to turn my findings over to the cops.” Fina walked away from him.

  “Mr. McCaffrey,” Pitney said, coming toward him. Cristian hung back. “Could you please put down the mallet? We just want to talk to you.”

  Ronnie stood still, shaking his head in disbelief. He tossed the heavy object a few feet away and crossed his arms over his chest.

  Fina stopped next to Cristian.

  “This is what you wouldn’t tell me last night?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Nope. I didn’t know all this last night. That was something else.”

  He was silent. “You know this is going to be practically impossible to prove.”

  “I know,” Fina said, “but you have to try, right?”

  “Right.” He started to walk away.

  “Cristian. Any way you could come over later, once you’re done with this?”

  He turned to face her. “What’s the point, Fina? There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “I disagree. We need to clear the air. The longer we go being weird, the harder it’s going to be.”

  He walked back to her side and lowered his voice. “So you think we should just pretend we weren’t dating? That we don’t have romantic feelings for each other?”

  She closed her eyes before responding, trying to find a last bit of energy. “I think we should try to figure out where we go from here. Give me a little credit, Cristian. I don’t like talking about this stuff, either, but I want to fix this. I can’t not have you in my life.”

  He looked at Pitney and Ronnie, who were engaged in a heated conversation. Cristian sighed. “Fine. I’ll stop by later.”

  “Great.”

  Fina walked back to her car. Evan and Molly had retreated inside, and she could see them in the kitchen.

  Their lives were about to begin another bumpy chapter, but it couldn’t be helped.

  Life was messy.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Fina treated herself to dinner at the bar at Legal Sea Foods. She was craving a good meal and a dose of oblivion. Watching the headlines on the TV perched over the bar was oddly relaxing and saved her from having to make small talk with the other barstool denizens. She munched on warm sourdough rolls and a platter of fried clams that she washed down with a diet soda. Sated, she drove home ready for a hot shower and some mindless TV.

  Fina arrived home to find a box holding her latest clothing purchase. She left it on her coffee table before showering and putting on some cozies.

  She knew she needed to follow up with Scotty and Matthew, but decided it could wait until morning. Fina didn’t have the emotional reserves to deal with them, particularly since she still had a conversation with Cristian ahead of her.

  In the kitchen, she grabbed another soda, a Hostess cupcake, and a knife with which to open her delivery. There was a TV show on about the world’s best waterslides, which only required what little attention she had to spare. Her brain didn’t need to be engaged until Cristian arrived. Reclining on the couch wasn’t the healthiest way to eat dessert, but it felt good, which was all that mattered. Fina tossed the empty cupcake sleeve onto the coffee table and burrowed further into the couch.

  The sound that woke her wasn’t a knock but a rattling noise, as if someone were struggling to fit a key in the lock. From the depths of sleep, it took her a moment to make sense of things. Fina instinctively looked around for her gun and realized it was in the bedroom where she’d dropped the holster on the way to the shower.

  She was barely across the living room when the front door burst open and a man was on top of
her.

  The man was her brother.

  • • •

  Later, Fina would remember wondering why Rand was wearing a tracksuit. It was the kind of thing he only ever wore at the athletic club, and yet, somehow, he was in her condo, pinning her to the floor, wearing a tracksuit.

  He pushed her onto her back and grabbed her wrists, holding them over her head. She kneed him in the groin and managed to free one hand when his torso accordioned from the blow. Rand let out a guttural noise when she punched him in the throat and tried to crab walk out from under him.

  Two thoughts crowded her brain: her gun and the knife. If you were going to engage in hand-to-hand combat, you didn’t want weapons to be part of the equation. Cramped quarters and adrenaline—paired with a weapon—posed an equal threat to the good guy and the bad guy. Fina knew her best chance of beating her brother was to engage in a good old-fashioned fight.

  She tried to scramble away, but he grabbed her leg and tugged her closer. Fina didn’t have enough breath to both fight and scream, so they continued grappling with only the animal noises of a struggle for a sound track.

  They were locked in a violent embrace with no obvious conclusion when Rand got a gleam in his eye. Fina struggled to stop him from reaching onto the coffee table, but knew it was futile. He’d seen the knife and it was in his hand now, poised at her neck.

  “Stop struggling,” he said through gritted teeth. Rand kneed her in the kidney. Her body seized up in pain, and she fought to control her breathing.

  “It’s going to be messy,” she gasped. “Spurting. Everywhere.”

  “Shut up!” He pushed the knife harder against her neck. Fina flinched at the sharpness against her skin.

  “There’ll be spatter,” she wheezed, “all over.” She could only hope that the image would force Rand to reconsider, not plunge ahead and slice the knife across her carotid arteries.

  With his free hand, he grabbed her hair and smacked her head against the floor. Intense pain shattered behind Fina’s eyes, and what she could see the moment before, she couldn’t anymore. She was aware of an odd sensation—heightened feeling and greater detachment all at once. The pain in her head and the sharpness of the knife were growing unbearable, but at the same time, she felt separate from her body, as if this terrible thing were happening to someone else.

  There was a loud crash, and she felt the floor vibrate beneath her. There was yelling. Something had changed in the room. A heavy weight crushed her, and then nothing.

  • • •

  The first thing Fina noticed was the pain. Her head throbbed, and the thought of opening her eyelids was more than she could bear. But she heard noises around her—breathing, objects being moved—and her curiosity forced her to push through the pain.

  She looked and saw her father pulling the door open to leave.

  “Wait,” Fina croaked.

  “Go back to sleep,” he said, turning toward her.

  Fina moved to adjust her head on the pillow, but winced from the effort.

  “You’ve got a concussion,” he told her.

  “Oh, great.”

  “It’s just one. You’ll be fine.”

  She gestured toward the plastic cup and pitcher on the table. Carl came over to her bedside. He poured some water into a plastic cup and unwrapped a straw. He held it close to her face so that Fina could sip with a minimum of effort. Her lips were chapped, but asking her father to find and apply lip balm seemed a bit much.

  “Get some rest,” he said. “There are people waiting to talk to you.”

  “Who?”

  “The cops, obviously. Cristian and Lieutenant Pitney. Frank and Peg are here and so are Milloy and your brothers.”

  Fina’s eyes widened. “Don’t let him near me.”

  “Not Rand. He’s in surgery.”

  Fina laid back against the pillow and tried to summon a memory of the altercation in the condo. “Did Cristian shoot him?”

  Carl’s head dipped down before he responded. “Yes. He says that Rand was going to cut your throat.”

  “He was,” Fina said, glaring at her father. “I don’t suppose my mother is one of those people waiting to see me.”

  Carl was silent.

  She balled up the sheets in her hands. “He was going to kill me, and she still sides with him.”

  “It’s not that simple, Josefina.”

  “Right.”

  “I have to go,” he said. “I’ve scheduled a meeting with Ceci and Chloe for tomorrow afternoon.”

  “I can’t deal with that right now, Dad.”

  “You’ll be fine once you sleep.”

  “Yeah. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

  If Fina could have rolled over, turning her back on her father, she would have. The ache in her head made that physical statement impossible. Instead, she closed her eyes. A moment later, she heard the whoosh of the opening door and the faint click it made when it closed behind him.

  Fina pulled the blanket up to her chin and wrapped her arms around herself. She was on her own.

  • • •

  When Fina awoke it was morning, the room bright with sunshine. The pain in her head had lessened to a dull ache. She depressed the button on the remote to raise the bed so she could take stock.

  She was sipping from the plastic cup when the door opened, and Milloy stepped into the room. He gently kissed the top of her head, and she slumped against his chest. They stayed that way for a minute.

  “Your head still hurt?” he asked.

  “Yes, but not as much.” She pulled away from him. “Is this as much of a clusterfuck as I suspect?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Fuck.”

  “You don’t need to think about it right now, though.”

  “Can you find my clothes?”

  “You’ve been discharged?”

  “Yes.”

  “By what doctor?”

  “By Dr. ‘I Don’t Give a Shit; I’m Getting out of Here.’”

  “That’s great, Fina. He’s known for making sound medical judgments.”

  “Just find my clothes.”

  Milloy located her belongings in a plastic bag in the closet and doled them out to her. She was pulling her hair into a ponytail when a light tap on the door got their attention.

  “Can I come in?” Cristian asked, poking his head around the door.

  “Sure,” Fina said, climbing back onto the bed.

  “Do you want something from the cafeteria or the gift shop for the ride home?” Milloy asked.

  “Yes. Chocolate, soda, and lip balm.”

  Milloy reached into his pocket and took out a tube of expensive lip salve that featured botanical extracts from a Brazilian rain forest. He tossed it onto her lap.

  “Ahh. Thank you,” Fina said, unscrewing the tube.

  “Can I get you anything, Cristian?” Milloy asked.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  Once the door closed behind Milloy, Cristian pulled the pink vinyl recliner closer to the bed and took a seat.

  “They’re discharging you?” he asked.

  Fina started to speak, but Cristian raised his hand to stop her. “Don’t. Don’t even say it.”

  “Say what?”

  “Whatever you were going to say. Whatever lie or half-truth you were going to manufacture.”

  “I was going to tell you the truth. They didn’t discharge me, but I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t stand being in the same building as him.”

  Cristian didn’t argue. “How do you feel?”

  “Like someone smashed my head against a wooden floor.”

  He nodded.

  “But not like someone slit my throat.” She looked at him and didn’t try to stop the tear that was hovering on her lid from rolling down her che
ek. “Thanks to you.”

  “I’m just glad I came over. I don’t know what would have happened otherwise.”

  “He would have killed me.” Fina brushed at her cheek. “Did you hear that he’s the one that put out the contract against me?”

  “Yes. Why didn’t you just tell me?”

  “I was trying to give my other brothers the chance to do the right thing.”

  “Which was what, exactly?”

  “That hadn’t been determined yet.”

  “Not your smartest move,” Cristian said.

  “Perhaps not.” Fina fiddled with the cap of the lip salve. “Thank you for saving my life. I know the last thing any cop wants to do is discharge his weapon.”

  He nodded. “You’re right, but it was a clean use of force, and he’s going to survive.”

  “That’s too bad,” Fina said. Cristian frowned. “Not for you, of course. You don’t need that on your conscience—let alone the paperwork—but it’s too bad for me.”

  “He’s not going to hurt you, Fina. He’s going to be charged for attempted murder.”

  She closed her eyes. “My family must be going nuts.”

  “Scotty doesn’t look good. I’ll give you that.”

  “What happened with Ronnie?” she asked, not wanting to contemplate her family situation at the moment.

  “We found antifreeze hidden under the crawl space at his house.”

  “He told me he never kept the stuff around the house. It’s pretty circumstantial,” Fina admitted.

  “But it’s something,” Cristian said.

  “He didn’t confess?”

  He scoffed. “Hardly.”

  “But you guys think that he’s responsible?”

  Cristian nodded. “We’re going to dig into the Mike O’Brien situation. That may not have been the first time Ronnie poisoned someone.”

  “Sounds like a lot of work,” Fina said. “So glad it’s you and not me.”

  “I think you need to take it easy for a little while,” Cristian said, rising from the chair.

  He was on the threshold when she called to him.

  “Cristian. I think our relationship just got more complicated.”