Brutality (16 page)

Hal looked askance at her.

“I’m kidding, Hal! I don’t do anything by the book.”

He grinned. “What do you need?”

“I need some information about the Schaefer Lab at NEU.”

Hal pulled out a notebook from his briefcase and jotted something down. “Anything in particular you’re interested in?”

“How it’s financed, any red flags related to money. That sort of thing.”

“Sure.” Hal picked up his water and took a sip. In addition to his ample girth, Hal was also short and balding. He had a nice face and a warm smile to go with his kind heart. Hal proved the tenet that a good personality really could make someone seem more attractive.

“For instance,” Fina said, “if the university were to be sued, could that have an impact on the longevity of the lab?”

“Are we talking about a lawsuit directly involving the lab?” Hal asked.

“No, not necessarily. And what about grants and government funding?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

Fina tugged on the end of her ponytail as she ran through her mental to-do list. “The other thing I need is info on some personal finances.”

“Ah. I was wondering why you needed me to do the NEU stuff; most of that is on public record.”

“Sure, but I want you to find anything that isn’t,” Fina said, “and I need you to do some other digging that isn’t completely aboveboard.”

“Name it.”

“I have a client named Liz Barone. I want you to take a look at her and her husband, Jamie Gottlieb.”

“You think she’s keeping something from you?” Hal asked.

“She’s brain-dead, so she’s keeping everything from me,” Fina said, arching her brow.

“Oh God, Fina. That’s horrible, even for you.”

“Don’t go soft on me, Hal,” she said with a smile. “I think her husband might be keeping something from me, but he may just be grief-stricken or garden-variety difficult. It’s hard to tell.”

“So what do you want? The usual stuff?”

“Yeah. Debts, assets, general money habits.”

“Done.”

Fina loved working with Hal. He was terrific at his job, and he never gave her sass like Emma did.

“And I need the info as soon as possible, please.”

“You usually do,” he said.

“And you always deliver, Hal. You’re one of the few reliable things in my life.”

Hal struggled out of the chair and tugged on the bottom of the thick-stitched navy blue sweater that was already stretched tightly over his barrel-shaped torso. “You know I’m always happy to help you, Fina,” he said, shrugging on his coat.

After he left, Fina brought his glass and her can into the kitchen and left them in the sink. She tended to wash dishes on an as-needed basis: When she needed one, she plucked a dirty one from the sink and cleaned it. The idea of using dishes, washing them, and putting them away only to use them again made no sense to Fina. It seemed wildly inefficient.

She was sitting down in front of her computer when Risa called, asking to meet. Fina was facing down the stacks of files Carl had sent over and figured she’d need a reward by midafternoon. She’d be hungry when she was done, and when she was hungry, there was no better place to be than Risa’s.

—

F
ina’s back was aching and her stomach was growling when she arrived at Risa’s home for a late lunch. The family’s Victorian gingerbread-style house was at the other end of the luxury spectrum from Frank and Peg’s modest ranch. It boasted three stories and an addition out back that blended seamlessly with the original design. The shingles were painted in an intricate design of mossy green, white, and wine.

The front walkway and porch were mostly cleared of snow, with the occasional icy patch. The house was in its full glory in summer, when the large wraparound porch was festooned with hanging baskets dripping with fuchsias, lobelia, and petunias.

Fina rang the bell, and a moment later spotted Marty, Risa’s husband, through the pane of glass on the door.

“Hi, Marty.” Fina leaned in for a kiss on the cheek after he invited her in. “I didn’t expect to see you home at this hour.”

“I’m off to New York. Just stopped at home for my bag and a good-bye kiss.” Marty worked in finance and traveled to Manhattan regularly.

He made small talk as they walked toward the back of the house. Risa’s husband was a sweetie, but in Fina’s estimation, one of the most boring men she’d ever met. She was aware, however, that what was boring to some was stable to others.

“Fina’s here,” Marty announced as they entered the kitchen.

The addition to the house had been designed to give Risa a kitchen worthy of her talents. The updated space was a combination kitchen, eating area, and family room, and the family spent most of their time there. The six-burner stove and granite island were where Risa worked her magic, while the kids watched TV and did their homework on the other side of the breakfast bar. It was very similar to Patty’s setup, and it made Fina wonder when parents decided they needed to see their kids at all times. When Fina was young, her parents were quite happy to have them in a separate room with no sight lines or opportunities for interaction. Maybe they would poke their heads in if there were screams or the sounds of glass shattering. Maybe.

“Hey.” Risa turned from the sink, her hands dripping with suds.

“I’m going. I’ll call you when I get to the hotel,” Marty said, giving Risa a kiss on the cheek.

“Have a good flight,” Risa said.

“Nice to see you, Marty,” Fina added.

He went into the attached garage, and they listened as the door rumbled to life.

“When’s he coming back?” Fina asked. She pulled off her outerwear and laid it over the back of the couch.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“It’s nice he isn’t gone for long stretches.”

“It is. It’s short enough that the boys barely notice.”

Fina took a seat on one of the bar stools at the counter.

“I tried a new recipe,” Risa said.

“You know I would have come over even if you didn’t offer to feed me.” Fina grinned.

“You say that, but I’m not sure I believe you. I’m on a Vietnamese kick; I made caramelized ginger chicken with sticky rice.”

“Sounds delicious.”

Risa reached into one of the white cabinets and pulled out two plates. “I have seltzer, iced tea, milk. Sorry, no diet soda.”

“Seltzer sounds good.”

The walls of the kitchen were painted a mossy green, which contrasted nicely with the earth-toned floor and backsplash. The space reminded Fina of Tuscany without the cheap Olive Garden vibe.

“How’s the family?” Risa asked, busying herself around the stove.

“We had Elaine’s birthday party last night.”

“And? How was it?”

“There were tears, a broken picture frame, and diamonds—a typical Ludlow celebration.”

“Who was crying? Elaine?”

“God no. Chandler, when Ryan broke the frame and blamed it on him.”

“I’m sure your mom was happy to have you guys there to celebrate,” Risa said.

“You’re projecting the love for your own children onto my mother.”

“Fina,” Risa said, slipping a plate of food in front of her. “Of course she loves you. She’s your mother.”

“That’s what functional mothers always say.”

The chicken leg was a deep brown color and sticky with sauce. The rice grains clung to one another, their white interrupted by the occasional scallion. Fina inhaled the aroma.

“This smells amazing.”

Risa put down two glasses of seltzer and a second plate of food before climbing onto the stool next to Fina.

“So, what’s going on with you?” Fina asked, cutting off a bite of chicken and placing it in her mouth. There was some zing from the ginger, which interplayed nicely with the sweetness of the sauce.

Risa rotated her glass and straightened out her silverware. “Well, I got some news from the doctor’s office.”

“Okay.”

“My test results have come back positive, meaning I can proceed with the transplant testing.”

Fina swallowed a bite of chicken. “But you don’t know if you’re a match yet, right?”

“Correct.”

“So what are you thinking?”

Risa sighed. “Well, that’s my problem. I can’t think straight.”

Fina smiled. “Okay, why don’t we break it down into manageable chunks?”

“Please do.”

“Well, don’t worry about the transplant for now. Before Greta got in touch with you, had you ever considered tracking down your birth family?”

“Not seriously. It’s one of those things that you think, ‘maybe, someday,’ but I never felt the need that some adopted people feel.” Risa dipped her head. “Also, I didn’t want to hurt my mom and dad.”

“That’s understandable. So you’re minding your own business, and your biological aunt finds you.” Fina assembled a perfect forkful of chicken, rice, and scallion and put it in her mouth.

“Exactly, and I’m having to think about something that I never really wanted to.”

“Have you had any contact with Greta?” Fina asked.

“We’ve exchanged a few letters.”

“Does she have any other family around?”

“No. She never married. Elizabeth did, and she had a son, but he died when he was nineteen in a boating accident.”

Fina looked at her. “So you’ve also learned that you had a half sibling.”

Risa nodded.

“That’s a lot to process, even if you don’t throw an organ transplant into the mix. Speaking of which”—Fina gestured to Risa’s plate—“you need to eat something unless your plan is to take yourself out of the running with a hunger strike.”

Risa took a bite. “That brings us to the kidney situation. I feel like Greta’s feelings shouldn’t figure in to the equation, but I’m getting hung up on them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, did she ever think about me all this time? Did
she
want to find me, but my birth mother wouldn’t let her? If she didn’t need a kidney, would she have contacted me, or is that the only reason she tracked me down?”

Fina put down her fork. “Risa, how could those questions
not
figure into this? You have every right to wonder about those things and take them into account when making your decision. It would be naïve not to.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Look, if I were in your shoes and I thought that my aunt had no interest in me except as an organ donor, I would have serious reservations about handing over my kidney,” Fina said. “It’s great that people choose to make donations, but that’s very different from being manipulated into doing so.”

“I just feel guilty thinking that way,” Risa said.

“Don’t.”

“Maybe her illness is a chance to have a relationship we might not have otherwise.”

“Her illness,” Fina clarified, “or your donation?”

“Both.” Risa avoided Fina’s gaze.

They were silent for a moment. “What if you had more information about Greta’s motives?” Fina asked. “Would that make you feel better?”

“Maybe.”

“What does the next round of tests entail?”

“A general physical, an EKG, a psych evaluation, a kidney function test. There’s more, but that’s just off the top of my head.”

“So it gets more involved and more invasive.”

“Yes. This is good, don’t you think?” Risa asked, eating another bite.

“It’s fantastic.” Fina sipped her drink. “I think you need to figure out where your kids fit into this, weigh the likelihood of them ever needing your kidney. I assume you’d want them to have first dibs, but the chances of either of them needing it are probably incredibly small.”

“I’ve been discussing that with the transplant coordinator,” Risa said, chasing some errant grains of rice around her plate.

“Good,” Fina said. “Remember, Risa, just because someone asks for something, it doesn’t mean you’re required to give it to them.”

“I know, but it’s hard to break out of that mind-set.”

“That’s why I’m here: to call into question your unwavering generosity.”

“Is that why? I thought it was to appreciate my cooking.” Risa slipped off her stool and brought their empty dishes over to the sink. She rinsed them before stacking them in the dishwasher.

“What if we did a little digging around to find out more about your birth family and Greta’s story?”

“You could do that?”

“Well,
I
can’t, I’m on another case, but I know someone who can.”

“But I don’t want anyone to know about this.”

“I’m thinking of Frank Gillis,” Fina said. “He’d be perfect. He’s discreet, and he’s a great investigator. People love telling him things. He wouldn’t need two hours in Greta’s local diner before he got the scoop.”

“I don’t know.” Risa looked doubtful.

“Listen, if he doesn’t find anything out, you’re just a few bucks poorer, but maybe he’ll learn something that has a bearing on your decision.”

Risa grabbed a bottle of blue liquid and sprayed the countertop. She tore off a couple of paper towels and wiped the surface clean.

“Okay. Talk to Frank.”

“Good.” Fina slid off the stool and grabbed her things. “Remember, it’s just more information, and information is power.”

“I thought money was power,” Risa said, trailing her to the front door.

“That, too, but you’ve got that covered.”

They hugged, and Fina picked her way down the steps and returned to her car. Fingers crossed, Frank was interested in doing some sleuthing.

—

F
ina arrived at Frank and Peg’s house and was relieved to find that Frank wasn’t shoveling snow, cleaning the gutters, or painting the exterior. She wasn’t sure what her next move would be if he didn’t heed her pleas to moderate his physical activity. You couldn’t make someone do something they didn’t want to, but it would be so much easier if you could.

She knocked on the door and poked her head into the small entryway off the den.

“Frank? Peg?”

What if they didn’t answer? What if they were involved in a private moment? The idea gave her the heebie-jeebies, but maybe that was reason enough to stop letting herself in uninvited.

“We’re in the kitchen,” Peg called out.

Frank was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him. Peg was at the counter, cutting up an apple. Peg was a school nurse and was still wearing her uniform of dark blue scrubs and a patterned scrubs jacket.