by Ingrid Thoft
“There was a little patch of ice, and I didn’t want the mail carrier to slip.”
“Stop worrying about everyone else.” Fina gently nudged him toward the front door, where she leaned the shovel against the house. “If Peg sees you doing this, she’ll kill you.”
Frank Gillis was the former Ludlow and Associates investigator who’d taught Fina everything she knew—except for the illegal stuff, which she’d learned on her own. Frank was her professional mentor, and he and his wife, Peg, were her second family. They filled the hole in her life created by Carl and Elaine’s lack of parenting skills.
Fina followed him into the house, where they deposited their outer layers before heading into the kitchen.
“Do you want some coffee?” Frank asked, pulling the pot from the coffeemaker and pouring himself a cup.
“No, thanks.” She reached into the fridge and grabbed a diet soda instead.
They walked into the family room, where Frank lowered himself into a recliner. Fina took a seat on the couch next to his chair.
“Seriously, didn’t the doctor tell you not to do any demanding manual labor?” she asked.
“Sweetie, it really was just a patch of ice.”
“So what? Do you think your heart can differentiate between a big patch and a little patch?”
Frank sighed. “You’re overreacting.”
“I really don’t want to visit you in the hospital if you have a heart attack or a stroke. I’m not great with illness; you know that.”
He reached out and patted her hand. “I know. It’s all about you.”
Fina glared at him. “So you don’t mind if I tell Peg what you were doing?”
Frank held up a finger. “What did I teach you about discretion? Let’s talk about something more pleasant: What are you working on these days?”
“You know that woman, Liz Barone, who was attacked in her house in Hyde Park?”
He nodded. “I saw it on the news.”
“Her mother has hired me to investigate.”
“Through the firm?”
“No, she came to me independently.”
“Carl doesn’t mind?”
“Only because there may be something in it for him. The victim was in the early stages of filing a lawsuit against NEU. Carl wants a piece of that action.”
“What kind of suit?”
“Liz was suffering from cognitive issues, allegedly from concussions she got while playing soccer at NEU.”
Frank squinted in question. “When was this?”
“About twenty years ago, but I’m not worried about the lawsuit. I’m just trying to figure out whodunit.”
“Are you having any luck?”
“It’s early days, but I can always use a hand if you’re looking for something to keep you busy,” Fina said hopefully.
Occasionally, Frank took on a job for Fina, but mostly his detecting days were over, which suited him just fine. He always said that investigating was a young person’s game, but Fina hoped that wasn’t true; she wasn’t getting any younger.
“I’d love to see Peg,” she said, glancing at her watch, “but I have things to do.”
Frank raised an eyebrow. “Do you have a date? Nothing would make Peg happier.”
“No,” Fina said, rising from the couch and stretching her arms overhead. “I do not have a date.”
“I’ll tell her you stopped by,” Frank said, walking her to the door.
Fina pulled on her jacket, reached over, and kissed him on the cheek. “You never know when I might drive by, so you better not try any more snow removal.”
“You’re very bossy. Maybe that’s the reason you don’t have a date. You might want to give that some thought.” He tapped the side of his head.
“Yeah,” said Fina. “I’m sure that’s the only thing standing between me and wedded bliss.”
Fina sat in the car until he closed the front door, and she saw him reclaim his spot in his recliner. It wasn’t that Frank was in poor health, but he’d had a small scare with his heart last winter, and he wasn’t supposed to take any chances.
And Frank and Peg were not allowed to die. It was out of the question.
—
Fina decided to head home via Scotty’s house in Newton.
She knocked on the front door and then used her key to unlock it.
“Patty? Haley? Anyone home?” She closed it firmly behind her and once again started stripping off layers. It was exhausting, the endless dressing and undressing required by a New England winter.
“Hey,” her fifteen-year-old niece said from the top of the grand staircase.
“Hey. What’s shakin’, bacon?” Fina asked.
Haley gave her a pitying look. “Nothing. Aunt Patty is in the kitchen.” She skipped down the stairs, her ponytail bobbing behind her. Looking at her, you’d never guess that her mom had been murdered last summer and that she’d been taken in by her aunt and uncle.
Fina pulled her niece into a hug. “How’s school?” Fina followed Haley through the large first floor to the combined kitchen/great room at the back of the house.
“Aunt Fina’s here,” she announced before flopping onto a couch next to Chandler.
Fina greeted her nephews and sister-in-law, who had the accoutrements of dinner prep laid out before her. Patty stuck to a strict dinner and evening routine; she was a firm believer that limits and consistency made for happy children.
Fina climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island and rotated to face her niece. “You didn’t answer my question, Hale. How’s school?”
“I cannot wait for spring break,” Haley said dramatically.
Fina spun back and looked at Patty, who rolled her eyes.
“What’s going on with you?” Patty asked. There was a loud thump as Fina’s older nephews, Ryan and Teddy, spilled over the back of the couch and landed in a heap on the rug, wrestling enthusiastically.
“I’m not taking anyone to the emergency room tonight,” Patty announced.
“You’re so mean,” Fina commented as the boys separated and squeezed past Haley to dig out two Xbox controllers from the bottom shelf of the coffee table.
“I’m just making my expectations clear,” Patty said. “It’s called good parenting.”
“I was in the neighborhood. Thought I’d stop by,” Fina said. “Did the boys tell you about our awesome sledding?”
“They did,” Patty said, giving Fina the hairy eyeball. “It sounded like terrific fun and needlessly dangerous.”
“That’s how we Ludlows roll,” Fina said. She hopped off the stool and went around to the refrigerator to gaze at the contents.
Patty looked over her shoulder into the oversized stainless steel appliance. “Anything?”
Fina closed the door and screwed up her face in concentration. “I’m not sure what I’m in the mood for.”
“How old are you?” Patty asked.
“Ha!” Haley exclaimed from the couch, her fingers flying across her phone keyboard.
“Never ask a lady her age,” Fina cautioned.
“Says the woman who gets in more fights than a professional boxer,” her sister-in-law offered.
Fina opened a pantry door and grabbed a bag of tortilla chips before reclaiming her spot at the island. Thirty seconds after she had the bag open, the children flocked to her side, digging their hands into it.
“You’re a terrible influence on my children,” Patty said, slicing through a green pepper with a knife.
“I like to think of myself as more of a cautionary tale. I’m not offended if you use me as an example of what not to do.”
Patty took the bag and shook some chips into a bowl, then sealed the top of the bag with a large clip. “Enough snacking. You need to save room for dinner.” The kids each grabbed another handful and dispersed
. “Are you staying?” Patty asked.
“I’d like to, but I have work to do.” Fina gave her sister-in-law a hug. “Sorry for corrupting the children.”
“I’d be worried if you didn’t.”
“Good-bye, children,” Fina called, and made the rounds giving kisses. “Haley, let’s do something soon.”
“Okay.” She didn’t look up from her phone.
“I’ll call you. You better answer.”
“I said okay,” the girl whined.
Was there anything more delightful than the teenage years?
7.
Getting in to see Kevin Lafferty the next morning wasn’t nearly as difficult as Fina thought it might be. She called his office at Barnes Kaufcan, the pharmaceutical company where he worked, and when the receptionist heard Fina was connected to NEU, a window in his schedule magically opened. Fina didn’t say how she was connected, and the assistant didn’t ask.
Before setting off, she called Emma Kirwan, who hadn’t been in touch since their conversation on Monday night.
“I was just about to send you an e-mail,” Emma said.
“Did you find something?”
“I’m not done, but I found a couple of e-mail exchanges between Liz Barone and Pamela Fordyce.”
“What did they say?”
“You can read them yourself. They should arrive in a second. Let’s just say there wasn’t a lot of love lost between them,” Emma said.
“Excellent. Keep looking and keep in touch.”
Fina clicked open the e-mail from Emma and scanned its contents. Liz had written an e-mail to Pamela requesting that her name be removed from all fund-raising appeals. Liz had received a form e-mail in return promising to do just that. Apparently it hadn’t happened, because Liz sent a second request that she be removed from the list. The same form e-mail was sent in return. Fina was growing irritated just reading the exchange; she could only imagine how Liz felt.
Enraged was how Liz felt, according to her next communication. She’d sent Pamela a vitriolic missive berating her for her insensitivity, greed, and inability to perform a simple administrative task. Liz claimed that she had hired an attorney and he would be in touch regarding what Liz felt was a campaign of harassment. Fina didn’t think it was a campaign, but clearly Liz was feeling desperate, and who could blame her? As far as she was concerned, NEU owed her, big-time.
—
The Barnes Kaufcan manufacturing space was located in an office park on Route 128 in Waltham, but the administrative offices were located downtown, close to the Federal Reserve and South Station. Fina decided to drive there for the sake of convenience, despite its being within walking distance of Nanny’s condo. She was also feeling sore and tired from the miles she’d logged on the treadmill the day before, and wasn’t recovery one of the most important components of exercise?
Fina signed the visitors’ log at the security desk in the lobby and got directions to the Barnes Kaufcan office. She took the elevator to the seventeenth floor and was greeted by an illuminated sign featuring the company logo and glossy pictures of “people from other places.” This was a category of PR that Fina found prevalent with companies that were involved in global business. The photos—whether on office walls, company websites, or the annual report—showcased lots of nonwhite people, usually in brightly colored native outfits, beaming as if they’d swallowed a month’s worth of antidepressants. Fina didn’t doubt that these people existed; she just marveled at their ubiquitous presence in the marketing strategies of high-earning international corporations.
She gave her name to the receptionist, who must have been twenty-one if she was a day, and accepted a glass of water before taking a seat in the waiting area. The reading material on offer was mostly health-related magazines, the Wall Street Journal, and the Globe. Fina opted for a brochure about Barnes Kaufcan’s efforts to bring their products to developing nations, which seemed a tad suspect since the company was known for their arthritis drugs. She tried to imagine how infants suffering from chronic diarrhea might benefit from less creaky joints.
“Mr. Lafferty will see you now,” said a young man who appeared in front of Fina. He, too, looked to be in his early twenties. He was fit and neatly dressed in pants and a button-down shirt and tie underneath a sweater.
“I’m Colin, Mr. Lafferty’s assistant.” He directed her down the hallway.
“Nice to meet you, Colin. I’m Fina Ludlow.” She made some chitchat about the weather and learned that Colin was originally from Alabama.
“I just can’t get used to the cold, even after five years,” he explained.
“Did you come up here for college?” Fina asked.
“Yes. I graduated from NEU last year.”
“Right. I know that Kevin is very involved in all things NEU.”
“I lucked out. I love working for him. So many of my friends work for assholes.” A blush rose on his cheeks. “Sorry.”
“No worries, Colin. I’ve heard it before,” Fina assured him. “And you’re right to feel lucky. Having a boss you like can make all the difference in the world.” Fina knew it was tough having a boss who ate his young, especially if you were his young.
“Kevin, I have Ms. Ludlow for you.” Colin left her at the threshold of his boss’s office, and Kevin Lafferty came around the desk to greet her.
“Ms. Ludlow, I’m so glad to meet you.” He gave her a firm handshake and directed her to a chair across from his desk. The office didn’t boast a view of the Fort Point Channel or anything else particularly memorable, but it did show a glimpse of sky, which wasn’t easy to come by in the thick of the city. The space was furnished in sleek, contemporary furniture, but its most prominent feature was the collection of sports memorabilia that festooned the walls. There were framed newspaper articles and features from Sports Illustrated. Team pennants took pride of place next to photographs featuring a smiling Kevin amongst various NEU athletes. There was one photo of Kevin standing next to the Patriots owner, Bob Kraft, but everything else was NEU-related, including the signed collection of balls in a display case against the wall.
Fina took a detour to the case and examined the souvenirs more closely. “Wow. I heard you’re the NEU sports guy, but I had no idea.”
“I’m also the Barnes Kaufcan guy,” he said, gesturing to a different shelf featuring professional accolades and recognition of Barnes Kaufcan’s charity work.
“Of course.”
Fina settled into her chair and studied Kevin as he sat down across from her. He was handsome in an easy, familiar way, like your brother’s best friend growing up, the one you secretly hoped would be staying for dinner if only so you could stare at him across the table and name your future babies in your head. Kevin’s sandy-blond hair and blue eyes radiated good health, as did his wide smile. He was trim, but not skinny, and although Fina knew he was close to fifty, he could easily pass for a decade younger.
“So what can I do for you, Ms. Ludlow? You’re here on NEU business?” He folded his hands together and gazed at her.
“Well, first, you can call me Fina.”
“Fina, then, and I’m Kevin.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware of recent events involving Liz Barone, who was attacked in her kitchen. She was a soccer player at NEU, and I think you were involved with her team.”
Kevin frowned. “I heard about Liz; it’s all over the papers. I’m not sure what it has to do with me, or NEU for that matter.”
“I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been hired by Liz’s family to look into the situation. I’m trying to get a clearer picture of Liz.”
Kevin leaned back and ran his hands through his hair. “Sure, but I still don’t know how I can be helpful.”
“Just by answering some questions. It won’t take long.”
He nodded his assent.
“When was the last
time you spoke with Liz?” Fina asked. “My understanding is that you were a regular presence at her NEU soccer games.”
“Sure, but that was twenty years ago. I’m still a presence at the games, but Liz isn’t.”
“So you haven’t had contact with her recently?”
Kevin shook his head slowly. “Not for at least a year or so.”
“And where was that?” Fina asked.
“I think it was at an NEU fund-raiser. Aren’t the police looking into the attack?”
“They are, but sometimes people feel better knowing there are extra boots on the ground, as it were. Bobbi Barone wants to do something for her daughter, and her options are limited right now.”
“Liz’s condition hasn’t improved?” Kevin asked. “I never know if I should believe what I read in the papers.”
Fina smiled. “You shouldn’t believe what you read in the papers, but no, she hasn’t improved.”
“It’s a hell of a thing.” He gazed out the window. “It just doesn’t make any sense.”
“So you haven’t seen Liz for about a year?”
“That’s right.”
“Would you consider her a friend?”
“Not really. An acquaintance, at best.”
“What was she like in college?”
“She was great.” Kevin picked up a globe-shaped crystal paperweight and rotated it between his hands. “She was an amazing soccer player and a good student.”
“Were you aware that she wanted to sue NEU?”
He glanced out the window again before returning his gaze to her. “I’d heard rumors about it.”
“From whom?”
Kevin shrugged. “From the rumor mill. I don’t remember who told me, but those sorts of things tend to get around.”
Fina wasn’t getting any traction, so she changed directions. “So I heard you’re the president of the booster club. What does that involve?” she asked.
He smiled. “Anything that supports the athletic department and the student athletes.”
