Identity

by Ingrid Thoft

  “Rosie. Stop stalling,” Renata said. “What is this about?”

  Rosie blinked back tears. Fina and Scotty exchanged a look.

  “There’s surveillance video that shows Rosie in a car at one A.M. the night Hank was killed,” Fina said. “We suspect this is what the cops had when they were so keen on hearing her alibi.”

  “Is this true?” Renata asked.

  Rosie swallowed another gulp of water. “Yes.”

  “How could you be so—” Renata started.

  “Don’t lecture me, Mom!”

  “We’re not here to fight about this,” Fina interceded. “We’re here to make a plan.”

  “Whose car was it?” Renata demanded.

  Rosie looked at Fina, who remained silent.

  “It was Tyler’s,” Rosie admitted.

  Renata looked at Scotty and Fina. “Does Marnie know about this?”

  “One thing at a time,” Scotty said. “Right now, I’m going to counsel you not to discuss this with anyone else, especially not Tyler and his mother.”

  Renata opened her mouth to speak.

  “Do you understand that?” Scotty said. “You cannot discuss it with anyone, and if anyone asks, you refer them to me.”

  Renata pressed her lips together.

  “I don’t want you speaking to the police—either of you—without me present. Okay?” Scotty asked. Obviously, Renata’s choice to reveal Hank’s identity to the press was fresh in his mind.

  Rosie and Renata nodded. Scotty looked to Fina.

  “Where did you go that night, Rosie?” she asked.

  Rosie squeezed her half-filled water bottle, which produced a crunching sound. “Mostly, we just drove around.”

  “Mostly? And what about the small part when you weren’t driving around?”

  There was a long pause. “We went to Hank Reardon’s house.”

  Renata gripped her armrests tightly.

  “For what purpose?” Scotty asked.

  “No purpose. We just were talking about him and decided to check out where he lived.”

  “You went to the man’s house?” Renata couldn’t control herself.

  “We went to our father’s house,” Rosie said. “Remember that whole thing, Mom?”

  “Were you drinking or on any drugs?” Fina asked.

  Rosie avoided her gaze. “We’d smoked a little pot.”

  Renata looked like her head might rotate on her neck, like a maternal version of the girl in The Exorcist.

  “Did you do anything when you got to the Reardons’?” Scotty asked.

  “No, it was the middle of the night. We sat on the front step and talked.”

  “So you have no idea if he was home?” Fina said.

  Rosie shook her head.

  “Did anyone see you hanging around?”

  “I don’t think so.” She drained her water bottle.

  “How long were you there?” Scotty jotted notes on a legal pad.

  “I don’t know, fifteen, twenty minutes, maybe.”

  “And then where did you go?”

  “Tyler dropped me back at Sam’s, and I went to bed. I assume that Tyler went home.”

  Scotty finished writing something and put his pen down. “I’m not a criminal defense attorney, so if this gets any more involved, I’ll have to refer you to someone else. I can put you in touch with some top people.”

  “You’re abandoning us?” Renata asked.

  Fina was annoyed. “That’s not what he said, Renata. Would you please listen and stop adding your dramatic interpretation to everything?”

  “Exactly! This is what I have to deal with every day!” Rosie interjected.

  “Don’t speak to anyone about this, and be in touch if something else happens,” said Scotty, staring at mother and daughter. “It’s that simple. The lying and the pot is something you two need to figure out.”

  “We will, believe me.” Renata rose from her chair and pointed Rosie in the direction of the door. “Thank you. We’ll be in touch,” she said formally before striding out of the office.

  “That’s going to be a fun ride home,” Fina commented. She stretched her arms over her head and gently moved her neck from side to side.

  “Any progress on the Haley front?” Scotty asked.

  “I only told you a few hours ago. I need a little more time.”

  Scotty sighed.

  “Stop acting like Dad,” Fina said. “Seriously. You are not allowed to turn into him.”

  He stood and walked around from behind his desk. “If anyone is going to turn into him, it’s you.”

  Fina winced. “Ouch.”

  Her brother grinned. “Hurts, doesn’t it?”

  “Touché. I’ll call you later, and thanks for squeezing this in.”

  “No problem.”

  Fina left Ludlow and Associates and sat in her car with the doors securely locked.

  Scotty’s anxiety was reasonable. What the hell was she going to do about the Haley situation?

  Tyler and Jess Frasier’s conceptions may have been atypical, but the family dinner Fina interrupted was all-American.

  The mysterious Jess answered the door and reluctantly introduced herself. The young woman was whippet thin but muscular. Her hair was brown and short, her face free of makeup. In her shorts and a BU track-and-field T-shirt, she could have passed for a high school student.

  She led Fina into the kitchen, where Marnie sat at the table and Tyler was prepping plates at the counter.

  “I can come back later,” Fina said, turning toward the front hallway. “You look like you’re having a real family dinner.”

  Marnie smiled. “As opposed to a fake family dinner? This is how we have dinner in our house. You didn’t?”

  “Hardly. People ate and ran. But seriously, I’ll come back.”

  “Stay,” Tyler said. “There’s plenty, and you can give an unbiased opinion of my latest.”

  Fina looked at Marnie, who nodded. Only Jess seemed less than enthused, avoiding Fina’s gaze.

  “Thanks.” Fina took a seat, and Tyler handed her a glass of water. Marnie offered her wine, and Jess sat down, while Tyler went to the stove. After a moment, he returned bearing a plate in each hand. He lowered one in front of his mother and the other in front of Fina.

  “Roasted salmon with lentils and bacon,” he declared, and came back with two more plates. Fina looked at it. A perfectly sized salmon fillet was nestled on a bed of beans and small flecks of bacon. She inhaled deeply while Jess passed her a small plate of salad.

  “This looks and smells amazing, Tyler. Is this a homework assignment or just for fun?”

  “Homework.” He sat down and pulled a napkin into his lap. “We’re doing a unit on fish right now.”

  The first five minutes of the meal were dominated by the sounds of cutlery and appreciative noises, especially from Fina. People assumed that, given her usual diet, Fina was opposed to healthy foods like fish and beans, but it wasn’t the flavor she minded; it was the preparation. She was lazy. If someone wanted to cook for her like this, she’d have no objection.

  “I think the bacon is a little too smoky,” Jess commented after a minute, washing a mouthful down with some water.

  “Ya think?” Tyler asked.

  “Just a touch. I feel like it’s overwhelming the cleanness of the salmon.”

  “Mom?” He looked to Marnie for her opinion.

  “I agree. Just a touch.”

  “You’re a tough crowd,” Fina commented.

  “Per his request,” Marnie said.

  “Yeah, it isn’t helpful if they don’t tell me the truth,” Tyler said between mouthfuls. “Only gets me in trouble with my professors.”

  Everyone knew that Fina was there for a reason—not just an outstanding me
al—but they seemed to reach an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t sully dinner with talk of murder or scandal. Instead they talked about the kids’ studies, Jess’s involvement on the BU cross-country team, Marnie’s job, and a proposed family trip over Christmas. Fina’s job was a drudge sometimes, but it was also a privilege to be invited into the homes and lives of strangers. And anyone who thought that a traditional nuclear family was the right kind of family needed to spend time with the Ludlows, the Frasiers, and the Collins-Kask families. The two-parent, heterosexual-led Ludlows were by far the most dysfunctional in the group.

  Fina cleared the plates while Jess stacked the dishes. Marnie lingered at the table with Tyler, discussing the next day’s schedule. Fina tried to engage Jess in small talk, but the young woman wasn’t interested.

  “I assume there’s business you need to discuss, Fina?” Marnie asked her after the counters were wiped clean.

  “Actually, it’s Tyler I need to talk to.”

  Jess frowned, and Marnie looked at Tyler. She hesitated, but then got up from the table. “I have some phone calls to make, unless you need me, Tyler?”

  He wiped his hands on his pants. “No, I’m good.”

  Jess leaned against the kitchen counter. Her short-sleeved T-shirt showcased her taut arms and well-defined muscles.

  “We’ll go out back,” Tyler said, standing up from the table. His sister shook her head and dropped the sponge into the sink. She walked out of the room.

  “Was it something I said?” Fina asked as she followed Tyler down the stairs into the backyard.

  “Nah. She’s just protective of me. So, what’s up?” he asked, sitting on a patio chair.

  She claimed the chair next to him. “Well, if I didn’t like you so much—and if you hadn’t fed me so well—I’d be really pissed at you.”

  Tyler’s eyes widened into a “Who, me?” expression. Girls probably found his innocent charm irresistible.

  “I just came from a meeting with Rosie and her mother and my brother, who is acting as Rosie’s attorney.” Tyler’s face lost some of its expression. “I know all about your visit to Hank’s house on the night of his death.”

  “Rosie told you that?”

  “No, I did this thing I do called ‘detecting’ and found video of you two dumbnuts driving around when you said you were at home in bed.”

  Tyler chuckled.

  “It isn’t funny,” Fina chastised him.

  “It’s a little funny. You don’t actually think that either of us killed Hank, do you?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I think; it matters what the police think.”

  “They think we killed Hank?”

  “Have they asked you for an alibi?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you told them you dropped Rosie at the apartment and were home all night?”

  Tyler’s face clouded. “Yes.”

  “So they have you on record lying to them.”

  Tyler leaned forward in his chair. He proceeded to crack every knuckle and joint in both hands. It set Fina’s teeth on edge.

  “So what do you want from me?” he asked.

  “Tell me the truth, for starters.” She held his gaze.

  “We smoked a little pot, went for a drive, and ended up at Hank’s.”

  “Did you try to go in?”

  “Like break in? No way. That place is like Fort Knox. We hung out on the sidewalk. We didn’t ring the bell or anything.”

  “And then?”

  “I dropped Rosie at Sam’s and came home. I went to bed. That’s it.”

  “Does your mom know about your little escapade?”

  “No.”

  A lawn mower started up a few yards away.

  “I won’t tell her,” Fina said, “but you might have to if the police get more involved.”

  “I thought you were going to solve Hank’s murder.”

  “I’m trying, but I’ve been wasting my time figuring out the lies you and Rosie have been spinning. It’s hard for me to concentrate on other suspects if I’m spending all my time on you two.”

  “Sorry,” Tyler said, and actually looked sheepish.

  “Apology accepted, but stop doing it. All right?”

  “Scout’s honor.” Tyler raised his fingers in a pledge.

  “Like you were ever a Boy Scout.”

  “Briefly. They didn’t appreciate my energy.”

  “I’ll bet.” Fina rose from her seat. “Thanks for dinner. I was impressed.”

  “You should come again. I always welcome appreciative diners.”

  “Say bye to your mom and Jess for me.” Fina stood.

  “I really am sorry. Maybe I can make it up to you.”

  “I can’t imagine how.”

  Tyler mimicked smoking a joint.

  “Oh, honestly. Your poor mother.”

  He broke into a huge grin and laughed.

  Fina walked through the side yard to her car. She couldn’t believe that Rosie or Tyler had done anything to harm Hank, but they’d lied. Just because you lied didn’t mean you were a murderer, but she’d yet to meet a murderer who wasn’t a liar.

  • • •

  Michael Reardon was home when Fina stopped by, although he didn’t look thrilled to see her.

  “Is this a bad time?” She glanced behind him. Maybe he had company.

  “No, it’s fine. I was just hanging out.” He was wearing jeans and a faded T-shirt, and his feet were bare. Fina followed him inside and up the stairs to the main living space. The TV was on, the screen frozen on a military scene in the crosshairs of a weapon.

  “You play?” Michael asked.

  “What is that, Call of Duty?”

  Michael nodded. “Do you want a beer?” He padded over to the kitchen.

  “Yeah, thanks. My brothers play this stuff sometimes, but I’ve never really gotten into those games.” She had a gun in real life; she didn’t need one in her fantasies.

  Michael brought over a large can and a glass into which he poured the dark liquid. Fina took a sip, expecting a heavy, bitter flavor, but was surprised by its sweetness.

  “That’s not what I expected.”

  “It’s Czech.” They both took a seat on the overstuffed couch. “What can I do for you?”

  “I had a very unsatisfying conversation with your mother earlier today.”

  “Really?”

  Fina detected a faint twitch in Michael’s neck.

  “I’m trying to understand what’s going on with the funding for the Reardon Center, but she isn’t being forthcoming.”

  Michael took a long pull from his drink. “What does funding for the Reardon Center have to do with anything?”

  Fina looked at him. She leaned back into the couch and took another sip of beer. She was silent.

  Michael glanced around the room. “What? You’re not going to say anything?”

  “I’m adopting a new policy of not answering stupid questions.”

  “How is that a stupid question?”

  Fina put down her beer and rubbed her face with her hands. “We’re really going to do this? This charade where you pretend that nobody you know could possibly be responsible for your father’s death?”

  “It’s not a charade. I don’t know anyone who could be responsible, especially not my mother.”

  “I told you when you hired me that everyone was fair game.”

  “I know, but I expected you to follow the evidence, not investigate us just to make a point.”

  “What point would that be?”

  “Equal treatment. That we’re not immune just because we’re his family and have money.”

  “Seriously?”

  “You don’t think maybe you’re going easy on the cryokids because they’re the underdogs?”

&nb
sp; Fina shook her head. “No, I don’t think I’m going easy on them.”

  Michael’s cell phone rang, and he looked at the display. “I have to take this.” He wandered into the kitchen and answered the call.

  Fina was willing to admit to herself that she didn’t want Tyler or Rosie to be responsible for Hank’s death, but was that hope clouding her judgment? Was Scotty’s representation of Rosie a conflict of interest? Was she being easy on them because they hadn’t had as many breaks in life as Michael, Juliana, and Danielle? There was no question that Tyler was a more likable guy than Michael, but Fina felt confident that if the evidence led to him, she wouldn’t have a problem busting him.

  Michael’s comments put her on notice, which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. When you worked as an investigator by yourself—for yourself—you didn’t have the checks and balances that the cops did. Cristian and Pitney worked on behalf of the citizens of the Commonwealth; they were bound by an oath. Fina wasn’t, and sometimes that made things more complicated.

  “Sorry about that.” Michael returned to the couch and sat down.

  “No worries. Michael, I hear what you’re saying, and I will keep it in mind. I don’t think that I’m favoring anyone in this investigation, but I also can’t favor you or your mom. If she doesn’t want to discuss things with me, you can’t force her, but that will be an obstacle.”

  “I understand.”

  “What do you know about the plans for the Hank Reardon House?”

  He looked genuinely befuddled. “I don’t know what that is.”

  Fina had another sip of beer. She wasn’t going to say more about the mysterious Reardon House, not until she knew more herself.

  “What about Heritage Cryobank? Did your father talk about them at all?”

  Michael shook his head. “No. He didn’t discuss that with me. Why? What’s going on?”

  “It seems that your father was in touch with the director of the cryobank shortly before his death.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “That’s what Danielle said.”

  Michael drained his beer. “Do you have anything to report, or are you only here to ask me questions?”

  “I can tell you that I’m making progress. However, I would love to know more about the fight your parents had over the Reardon Center funding. Seeking information from your mom doesn’t mean that I’m targeting her. It just means that I need more information.”