Brutality (11 page)

“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.”

“Like what? I’ve never talked with a booster before.”

“I get the word out about games, help with fund-raising, and attend events to show team spirit. I sit on some committees. That sort of thing. Boosters supplement the support provided by the university.”

“So being the president is kind of a big deal.”

“I love NEU, and I love sports.”

Fina grinned slyly. “Do you think you’ll ever have a building named after you? The Lafferty Field House or something like that?”

“I don’t have thirty million dollars lying around, but you never know. Money is only one part of being a booster. I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love the sports.”

“You have quite a collection,” Fina said, nodding toward the memorabilia.

Kevin grinned. “There’s nothing better than a good game. Do you like sports?”

“I do. I’m not a fanatic, but I follow our teams and go to a few games each season. Do you have a favorite sport at NEU?”

“That’s like picking a favorite child.” He smiled. “But I do love basketball. Anything that’s on the national stage is especially exciting,” Kevin said, “but I try to give where I’m needed. The least publicized teams are often the ones that benefit most from our attention.”

“That makes sense,” Fina said, “but you’re limited by NCAA rules, right?”

“Absolutely. The club can’t approach athletes for recruitment purposes or give them or their families gifts. The rules are there to keep the playing field level, so to speak, and I would never break those rules or jeopardize the programs.” He delivered the sound bite with a smile.

“So no gifts or loans or anything like that?”

“Nope.” There was a hint of testiness in his reply.

“Do you attend practices or just games?” she asked.

“Both. Depends on the sport and the season and the coach.”

“How involved are you with the women’s soccer team these days?” Fina asked.

“I really don’t understand how that’s relevant to Liz’s current situation,” Kevin said. He gave her a smile most women would have found appealing. “I have to admit, Fina, I feel like you’re on a fishing expedition.”

“I want to know who hurt Liz Barone.” She smiled. “In fact, I think I opened with that. I’m sorry if my questions seem irrelevant or impertinent, but that’s how I get answers, by asking questions.”

“If you say so.” Kevin pushed his chair back and planted his hands on the desk. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”

“You’ve been very helpful,” Fina said, rising to her feet. She pulled a card from her bag and placed it on the blotter in front of him. “I appreciate your taking the time to talk to me. Please be in touch if you think of anything that might be useful.”

“Of course.” He picked up the card and flicked it against the palm of his other hand. “Colin will show you out.”

Ten minutes later Fina tucked the parking receipt into her expenses folder and pulled out of the garage.

Kevin Lafferty seemed like a nice guy with a nice life. Nice guys didn’t always finish last, but in her experience, they rarely finished first. Unless, of course, they weren’t really that nice.

—

F
ina was summoned to Ludlow and Associates by Carl, who insisted she come in immediately to provide information on a different case. He was in the midst of an intense phone conversation when she arrived, so she grabbed a diet soda from the fridge and plopped down onto his couch.

“Dad, technically, I’m not on your clock,” she said once he hung up.

Carl peered at her. “I said you could take this case, but I didn’t say you could shirk your regular duties.”

“But why am I here? It’s not a deposition, so it could have waited.”

“Not as far as I’m concerned. The associate on the Haynesworth case needs to interview you.”

Fina knew this was his way of testing her and reminding her who was boss. She found it both annoying and unprofessional, not to mention typical.

“Fine,” she replied, “but every minute I spend here, I’m not making progress on the Liz Barone case. The one that may give us a huge payday.”

“Then you’d better get going.” Carl gestured toward the door. “Shari will tell you where to go.”

“Always a pleasure, Father,” Fina said, leaving his office.

She got her marching orders from his assistant only to find herself in a deserted conference room. Being kept waiting was particularly irksome.

She put in a call to Pamela Fordyce’s office and was told that her assistant was away from her desk, did she want to leave a message? Fina left word that she had an important development-related matter to discuss and would like to meet with Ms. Fordyce as soon as possible. She was checking e-mail on her tablet when her brother Matthew walked past the glass-enclosed space. He reversed his direction ten seconds later and entered the room.

“How’s it going, Sis?” Matthew, the youngest Ludlow brother, was two years older than Fina. He had that Ludlow sparkle—the just-right wavy hair, the dimple, the impish grin. Much to their mother’s chagrin, he was single, and Fina didn’t expect him to settle down anytime soon. Matthew had his pick of women and didn’t have to balance work and family. A steady stable of dates and friends with benefits kept him quite satisfied.

“I’m good,” Fina said. “You?”

“Can’t complain. Working like a dog, but nothing new about that. You waiting for Dad?”

“No. I’m waiting for some associate who needs info on the Haynesworth case.”

Matthew’s brow scrunched up. “Remind me which case that is?”

“The asbestos in the nursing home.”

“Right.” He adjusted the Omega watch on his wrist. “What are you getting Mom for her birthday?”

Fina sat back in her chair. “I thought I could go in on something with you guys.”

He folded his arms across his chest. “You always do that. Piggyback on our gift at the last minute.”

“I always pay you,” she said. “It’s not like I’m a freeloader.”

“You’re an idea freeloader,” Matthew insisted. “You never think of anything, and then you jump on our idea bandwagon.”

“Your idea bandwagon? You sound like a ten-year-old pioneer. So what are you getting Mom?”

Matthew looked at his shoes before making eye contact. “Haven’t decided yet.”

“Haven’t decided or don’t know because Patty is the one choosing the gift?” Fina asked.

He grinned. “I take the fifth.”

“Where do you think I learned how to jump on the idea bandwagon anyway? My big brothers taught me everything I know.”

A young woman tapped on the glass wall of the conference room and motioned for Matthew to join her.

“Catch you later.” Matthew gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and squeezed by the associate who was there to pick Fina’s brain.

—

A
fter several hours spent discussing all things asbestos, Fina grabbed a burger and fries in the Prudential Center food court. Back in her car, she called Gus Sibley’s private practice, but was told that he was at his NEU office for the remainder of the day. She made her way there, only to find that she’d just missed him. Undeterred, Fina hopped online and found his home address in Brookline.

She decided to make the most of the Wi-Fi connection she’d found in the NEU parking lot and did a quick search on the good doctor. The Internet confirmed that Gus was a well-respected orthopedist who had a private practice and also worked for NEU as a team doctor. There were pictures of him with the women’s soccer team and at various charity events with his wife, Margie. Fina pulled up the Massachusetts medical board website and searched his record. There were no pending claims against him, nor had he made any malpractice payouts in the last ten years. Next, Fina logged on to the Ludlow and Associates database. There was one mention of him as a potential expert witness on a case, but there was no indication that he’d ever testified.

A ten-minute drive brought her to the Sibley house, a brick center-entrance colonial located a few streets off Route 9 in Brookline. It was close enough to the thoroughfare to make it convenient to the hospitals and NEU, but far enough away that you didn’t hear cars speeding by. The neighborhood consisted of medium-sized colonials with fenced-in backyards. Ten miles west and the houses probably went for five hundred thousand dollars, but Fina imagined the Sibley abode—and its neighbors—would fetch over a million.

Fina picked her way up the concrete path to the front door, encouraged by the smoke curling out of the chimney. She rang the doorbell and knocked her feet against the front stoop to dislodge any sandy slush from her boots.

A moment later, the door was opened by a man in a blue suit, a folded-up tie peeking out from the pocket. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the neck, and a pair of black wingtips dangled from two fingers of his left hand.

“Yes?” he inquired.

“My name is Fina Ludlow. I’m a private investigator. I’m looking for Dr. Gus Sibley.”

“I’m Dr. Sibley.” He leaned against the door.

“I wonder if I could ask you a few questions.” Fina rubbed her hands together, hoping to send a subliminal message about the likelihood of hypothermia if she were to remain on the front step.

“Questions regarding what?”

“It’s about Liz Barone.”

A pained expression washed over his face. He glanced over his shoulder toward the interior of the house. “What exactly about Liz?”

“As you may know, she was critically injured during an attack in her home. I’ve been hired by her mother and husband to investigate the attack. I know you’re her friend and hoped you would be willing to answer a few questions.”

Gus considered her for a moment and then stepped back into the foyer. “Of course. Why don’t you come in?”

“Thanks. It’s freezing out.”

“Do you have some ID?”

“Sure.” Fina pulled her PI license from her bag and held it up for his inspection.

He studied it and nodded. “If you don’t mind taking off your shoes. We’re trying to win the war against sand and salt.” He held out his hand and took Fina’s coat, which he hung over the doorknob of the front hall closet. Fina reached out and steadied herself on the chair rail as she struggled out of her boots.

“I’m with my grandson,” Gus said. “Are your questions child-friendly?”

“I’ll make sure they are,” Fina said, following him into a room to the right of the staircase. The temperature was noticeably warmer, largely due to the fire that was crackling in the fireplace. A large TV was mounted on the wall, and a sizable coffee table sat between two couches. The surface of the table was strewn with LEGO pieces, and a young boy kneeled in front of it, studying the cover of a cardboard box.

“Grampy, I can’t find this one.” The child pointed to a picture of a tiny gray piece.

“It’ll turn up,” Fina said. “Someone will step on it by the end of the night, experiencing more pain than any piece of plastic should ever inflict.”

Gus smiled. “You build a lot of LEGOs?”

“I have a niece and three young nephews. Is that the airport fire truck?” Fina tilted her head to get a better look at the box. Whose bright idea was that? Here, kids, let’s build the truck that will save you when your plane crashes!

“I can’t find this part for the jet engine,” the boy said, thrusting the box toward Fina with one hand and wiping his nose with the other.

“Ah yes, the jet engine that has detached from the fuselage,” Fina said, exchanging a look with Gus. “Let’s see what you have.” She kneeled down in front of the table. “I’m Fina. I’m just here to ask your grandfather a few questions.”

“This is Archer,” Gus said. He sat down next to Fina on the carpet, his legs tucked awkwardly to the side. Everything about Gus was slightly oversized—his head, his thatch of grayish-white hair, his torso. He wasn’t overweight nor was he particularly tall, but there was a thickness, a solidity to him that couldn’t be ignored.

“Do you have a cookie sheet?” Fina asked. “That’s how we usually sort the pieces. They’re easier to see that way.” Fina wasn’t good at most child care–related tasks, but give her a LEGO kit and she’d give you a city or a high-speed police chase or the space shuttle lickety-split.

“Go ask Nana for a couple of cookie sheets, Archer,” Gus instructed the child, who popped up from his knees as if he were spring-loaded. “It’s just horrible what happened to Liz,” Gus said when Archer had left.