by Ingrid Thoft
He pointed at her and smiled. “Just your own.”
Fina squinted at him. “Have you been talking to my mother?”
D chuckled. He pulled a package of Goldfish crackers out of a cabinet and poured a helping into a plastic Baggie. From a hot-pink backpack, he pulled out a My Little Pony lunch box and nestled the sandwich, crackers, juice box, and one Hershey’s Kiss inside. Next to the pony-adorned container, his hands looked like catcher’s mitts.
“If you don’t mind my asking,” Fina said, “how do you get your hands in anyone’s chest cavity? They’re substantial.”
He grinned and lowered his voice. “If my hands are in your chest cavity, they’re the least of your problems.”
“Right.”
Tasha crested the stairs with an older black woman in her wake. She introduced Fina to the nanny, who swooped the little boy up in her arms before taking him downstairs. D picked up Lyla in one arm, the pink lunch box under the other, and the threesome exchanged kisses.
“Nice to meet you, Fina,” D said.
“You too.” She listened as the girl chattered to her father as they descended the stairs.
“Where are the tears and tantrums?” Fina asked Tasha, who was pouring herself a cup of coffee from a high-end coffee machine embedded in the kitchen wall.
“Oh believe me, there are plenty, just not yet. But there are still outfits to be chosen and teeth to be brushed.” Tasha was wearing a fitted dress in a deep plum knit. She wore black tights, but was shoeless. “Do you want some coffee?” she asked, adjusting a wide gold cuff on her wrist.
“Sure.” Fina was awake; she might as well cement it with a heavy dose of caffeine. “I’m sorry about Liz,” she said, taking a mug from Tasha.
Tasha grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, then walked into the dining room. They sat down across from each other at a Shaker-style table. The windows at one end of the room overlooked the treetops on Marlborough Street.
“Since the day she was hurt, I knew that it wasn’t going to end well,” Tasha said. “But I still can’t believe it.”
“Anticipating it and experiencing it are two different things,” Fina said. “You probably won’t be able to wrap your head around it for a while.”
Tasha was silent.
“Any word on a funeral?” Fina asked.
“Not yet, but I’ll let you know once Bobbi and Jamie make plans.”
“So what did you want to talk to me about?” Fina picked up the mug and wrapped her hands around it. If nothing else, she appreciated the warmth.
Tasha adjusted so her posture was more upright. “It occurred to me that I hadn’t been completely forthright with you.”
“It occurred to you?” Fina asked, raising an eyebrow.
Tasha frowned. “Don’t bust my chops, Fina. I’m telling you now.”
“Go on.”
“When we spoke at the gym, I told you that Liz and Gus Sibley were on good terms, but that wasn’t actually the case.”
“What do you mean?”
“Liz was upset with Gus.”
“Did she tell you why?” Perhaps this was what prompted Gus to go running to Pitney. Maybe he did have something to hide.
“No, she wouldn’t go into details, but I assumed it was about the lawsuit.”
“What about the lawsuit?” Fina asked.
“I think that Liz wanted Gus to support her, give some medical credence to her claims.”
“And he wouldn’t?”
“I don’t know. I think she assumed he would be an ally, and it wasn’t turning out that way.”
“You mentioned at the gym that you and your teammates played hard,” Fina said, “and no one could have convinced you to take it easy. Were you pressured to play when you were injured?”
Tasha sat back and folded her hands on the table. “You have to remember, this was a different time. Nobody knew anything about the dangers of concussions.”
“True, but you probably knew when you were hurt.”
Tasha traced the floral pattern on the placemat with her finger. Her nails were short and painted a pale pink color. “I wouldn’t say this in a court of law, but yes, we were pressured to play hurt, but everyone was back then. It was a badge of honor, proving how tough you were.”
“So you think Liz wanted Gus to admit that?”
“It’s the only reason I can imagine that she would be upset with him,” Tasha said.
Fina took a sip of her coffee. She placed the mug down before speaking. “I don’t mean to be cynical, but you’re an attorney, so I imagine you can take it.”
“Yes?” Tasha asked warily.
“Are you telling me this now because Liz died and you feel guilty or because her brain is going to BU?”
Tasha looked at Fina over her coffee cup. “That is cynical.”
Fina shrugged. “If the lab finds evidence of brain trauma, then you’re going to want to be on the right side of that issue come election time.”
“I wish that politics were only a matter of telling the truth, but you and I both know that’s bull,” Tasha said. “As long as there isn’t any definitive proof of brain trauma, I’d be foolish to jump on that bandwagon, but if there is . . .”
“You’d be foolish not to,” Fina concluded.
“You know I’ll deny this whole conversation if it ever comes out,” Tasha said.
Fina shook her head. “I’m not interested in slamming you in the press or impeaching your leadership ability. In fact, I’ll probably vote for you. I just want to find out who killed Liz. That’s my only concern.”
“I can’t imagine that Gus would hurt her,” Tasha said. “He’s a decent guy.”
“But? It sounded like there was a ‘but’ hanging there.”
“But if he gets caught up in a lawsuit, he has a lot to lose.”
“You just said that people didn’t know better when you and Liz were playing for NEU,” Fina said.
“Sure, but you of all people should know that lawsuits are career killers. Even if the final judgment goes your way, you still suffer.”
“True.” Fina had conflicted feelings about Ludlow and Associates when it came to the medical community. In many cases, they were the advocates wronged patients needed, but sometimes, innocent doctors got caught in the crossfire. Since she never knew the story until she investigated—unlike her brothers and father—she liked to reassure herself that she wasn’t spinning things, just uncovering the facts. Sometimes this made her feel better, but sometimes it didn’t.
“So what happens now?” Tasha asked.
“I’m going to speak with Gus again, and I’ll let the police know that his relationship with Liz was more complicated than it appeared.”
“Any way you could leave my name out of it?”
“I’ll do my best. There’s no reason Gus has to know you’ve told me this, but I don’t want to lie to the police if they ask me for specifics.”
Tasha exhaled deeply. “I suppose that’s all I can ask for.”
“But Tasha, if you are running for city council, you should be prepared for a lot worse than conjecture about your soccer career,” Fina said.
“Believe me, I know. It’s one of the things that gives me pause when I contemplate running for public office.” She rose from her seat, indicating that her confession was over.
Fina followed her into the kitchen and handed Tasha her mug.
“Does Jamie know that Liz was having problems with Gus?”
Tasha shook her head. “I have no idea.”
“What about Kelly? Is it something Liz might have mentioned to her?”
“She might have, but I don’t know. You’d have to ask her.”
She followed Tasha down to the foyer, where they retrieved her belongings from the closet. “I really appreciate your contacting me,” F
ina told her, zipping up her coat.
“I know you might question my motives, but Liz was my friend. I want you to find out who did this to her.”
“I’m doing everything I can,” Fina said. She pulled open the heavy wooden door and left Tasha standing on the threshold. She stood there with her regal posture, seemingly impervious to the cold, while Fina shivered and took off down the street.
—
Fina called Gus Sibley’s office and was able to learn the broad strokes of his schedule. He was at the office seeing patients and would be at NEU later in the day for a soccer round robin. She’d have better access to him at the university, so she put Tasha’s revelations on the back burner and turned her attention to Jamie.
Fina wasn’t looking forward to stopping by Liz and Jamie’s house so soon after Liz’s death, but time was of the essence. What she lacked in sensitivity now, hopefully she would make up for in results later.
There were a number of cars parked outside the house in Hyde Park when she arrived. She noted that Kelly’s minivan wasn’t among them, but perhaps she was off on some errand. She didn’t seem like someone who was able to stay put for very long.
The front door was opened by a woman in her thirties in black pants and a brown sweater—a casual version of mourning attire.
“Can I help you?” she asked Fina.
“I’m Fina Ludlow, and I’m here to see Jamie. Is he around?”
“This isn’t a good time,” the woman said.
“I know, but he and Liz’s mom have hired me to do some work for them. I think he’ll want to speak with me.”
The woman frowned, but admitted Fina to the house. “One moment.” She left Fina in the front hallway and opened a door that led down a flight of stairs to the basement. Fina craned her neck, but couldn’t see much.
“He’s in the basement,” the woman said when she returned.
Fina thanked her and started down the carpeted stairs. The finished space consisted of a play area and a makeshift music studio where Jamie now sat, a guitar across his lap. A door was ajar at the other end of the room, and Fina caught sight of a washer and dryer. The only natural light in the space came from small windows in the foundation.
“Hi, Jamie. Mind if I sit?” she asked.
He looked at her and nodded at an old Barcalounger.
“I’m so sorry about Liz.”
“Thanks.” He plucked at the strings on his guitar. His hair looked unwashed, and his ripped jeans and navy blue T-shirt were rumpled, sweat stains darkening his underarms.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m investigating your suspicion that Liz and Kevin were having an affair,” Fina said. “So far, there’s no evidence to prove that.”
He looked at her. “That doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
“No, it doesn’t, but it means there’s a possibility it isn’t true. I spoke with Kevin, and he vehemently denied it.”
Jamie snorted. “And I’m supposed to believe him?”
“No. I’ll do some more digging, but he claims he was only trying to dissuade Liz from filing the lawsuit.”
“He may have been.” He ran his fingers over the neck of the guitar. “But I’m not convinced that’s the only thing he was doing.”
“Why do you think he was opposed to the lawsuit?” Fina asked.
“Because he loves NEU sports more than life itself. He’d do anything to protect his teams.” Jamie brushed his bangs out of his eyes, revealing a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.
“Anything?” Fina asked.
Jamie looked at her, but was silent.
“I can’t deal with this right now,” Jamie said, his face anguished.
“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to add to your grief. I just wanted to reassure you that I’m taking your concerns seriously.”
“Fine.” He brushed away a tear from his cheek. “Great.”
“Do you want me to be in touch when I know more?”
“I want you to find out who did this to Liz.”
“Of course.” Fina stood and walked over to the stairs, where she rested her hand on the banister. He hadn’t answered her question, but that was okay. Jamie couldn’t give her what he didn’t have, and he didn’t seem to have the energy for much of anything.
He struck a chord, which she took to be her exit music.
She turned up the heat once in her car and rubbed her hands together vigorously.
She understood that Jamie was grieving, but she had to wonder why he seemed stuck on one thing: Why was he so committed to the idea that his wife was cheating on him with Kevin Lafferty?
—
Fina tracked down Cristian at a diner near police headquarters, where he was grabbing a bite with Pitney.
“What do you have for us, Fina?” the lieutenant asked before biting into a dripping tuna melt.
“I don’t work for you, remember?”
“Oh. Is this a personal visit?” Pitney asked.
Cristian shifted in his seat.
“I’m not here on a personal matter,” Fina clarified. “I’m here to give you some info, as a professional courtesy.”
“What is it?” Pitney asked.
Fina looked at Cristian’s plate before responding. He stuck to a healthy diet, which was great for his physique, but not so good for Fina when it came to mooching food from him. “Cristian, you’re the only person I know who gets a salad in a diner.”
“I have a sandwich, too,” he said, pointing at a turkey sandwich on anemic-looking white bread.
“That’s almost worse. You’re eating a sandwich without chips or French fries.” Fina eyed the golden brown fries on Pitney’s plate, but thought better of it.
“What do you have to tell us, Fina?” Pitney asked again. A glob of mayonnaise threatened to drop onto her brightly striped sweater. She looked like she was wearing a foreign flag across her bosom.
“I know you spoke with Vikram Mehra at the Schaefer Lab,” Fina said.
Pitney and Cristian nodded.
“Do you know about the grant they recently lost?” Fina asked.
“We’ve heard their funding is tight,” Cristian said. Fina noted his noncommittal answer, but she decided to plow ahead anyway.
“Did you know that he believes it was Liz’s fault? That they lost the grant because of her?”
“How so?” Pitney asked.
“Presumably, she screwed up some part of the application, thereby costing the lab a five-year grant.”
“Because of her mild cognitive impairment?” Cristian asked.
“Undetermined if her MCI was the cause,” she said. If she were being truly giving she would tell them about the source of the grant—the pharmaceutical consortium—but she wasn’t feeling quite that generous.
“Do you have any proof that Vikram and Liz butted heads?” Pitney asked.
“The postdoc in the lab claims that Vikram threatened Liz.”
“What’s the postdoc’s name?” Cristian asked, pulling out a small notebook.
“Dana Tompkins. I don’t know what your experience with Vikram was like, but the guy seemed like a bully to me.”
“Did he threaten to physically harm Liz?” Pitney asked.
“He said that she wouldn’t get away with it and he would make her pay.”
“Which could mean a lot of things,” Cristian said.
“None of them good,” Fina said.
“True,” Cristian conceded.
“So, what?” Pitney asked. “He killed her because he was angry about a grant? It seems a little thin.”
“Lieutenant, you’re underestimating the cutthroat world of scientific research. There are a lot of people competing for very limited resources. And the attack wasn’t premeditated. Whoever did this was pissed.”
“What makes you so sure it wa
sn’t premeditated?” Pitney asked, biting the end of a dill pickle.
“I think if you want to kill someone you usually bring your own weapon. You don’t look around the room and think, ‘Yes! That kitchen counter will be perfect!’”
Cristian chuckled.
“We appreciate the information,” Pitney said, waving down the waitress for the check. It was dropped on the table within seconds.
“I should hope so. In the interest of quid pro quo,” Fina said, “what’s the story with Kevin Lafferty’s alibi?”
“What about it?” Pitney asked.
“He told me he was at the Medical Society dinner at the Westin with hundreds of witnesses, but we all know that’s not really an airtight alibi.”
Cristian and Pitney exchanged a look.
“Yes, we know that,” Pitney said. “That’s why we’re looking into it.”
“My brother Matthew once went to a Bar Association dinner, rented a room to watch Thursday Night Football, and came back downstairs later when the event was winding down,” Fina said.
Pitney looked annoyed. “Why does that not surprise me?”
“I’m just saying that unless you’re the keynote speaker, those events are flimsy covers.”
“Noted,” Pitney said, examining the check before placing some bills on the table. “Anything else before we go?”
Fina briefly considered sharing Tasha’s impressions of Gus, but only briefly. Pitney was always riding her for proof, and she didn’t have any. She didn’t know what she had when it came to Gus Sibley.
“Nope. You’re all caught up,” Fina said. “It’s been fun.”
“And you’re staying away from Gus Sibley?” Pitney asked, maneuvering her way out of the booth.
“I haven’t been near him.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
Fina sat at the table for another few minutes contemplating the situation. It was always a balancing act, deciding what to tell the cops and what to keep to herself. She’d gotten in trouble in the past for withholding information, but that was an occupational hazard.
If you were going to tell the cops everything, why bother being a PI?
15.
Fina did another search on Gus Sibley before heading to the NEU campus. This time, she focused on the fluffier items that came up. He’d been named to Boston magazine’s Best Doctors list a few times and had also been featured in a couple of articles in the Globe sports section over the years. There were a number of photos of him at NEU sporting events and functions, and she stumbled onto the Facebook pages of two of his children. There was nothing remarkable about any of it.
