Brutality (18 page)

“So what does that mean exactly, ‘take a step back’?” she asked, crunching on the fried tidbit.

“Just that we should see a little less of each other and meet in places where we’re less apt to run into anyone I know.”

“Places like this?” She gestured toward the mural on the wall that depicted some version of Shangri-la.

“It’s just temporary.” Kevin gnawed on a sparerib, licking the sweet sticky sauce off his fingers.

“Are you going to make it up to me?” the young woman asked.

Kevin smiled his winning smile and kissed her deeply, the grease and sauce lubricating their lips. “I promise.”

“You better,” she said, gnawing on a chicken wing like a vulture.

—

C
ristian didn’t answer his phone, so Fina left a message and checked her voice mail. She returned a call from Hal and offered to stop by his place to get an update. Fina had never been to Hal’s home and was impressed when she pulled up to a well-maintained Victorian a few blocks from Porter Square in Cambridge. There were two front doors on the porch. Fina knocked on the left-hand door and waited a moment before there was a shadow behind the curtain-covered window.

“Hi, Fina,” Hal said. He stepped back into a small hallway that opened into the living room, which boasted three large bay windows. The shiny wood floor was partially covered by an Oriental rug and a couch in a neutral microfiber. That room flowed into what was supposed to be the dining room. Hal had repurposed the space for his office; there was a desk pushed against one wall, its surface dominated by two large computer monitors. Beyond this was an open-plan kitchen that was tidy and bright. A hallway off the kitchen probably led to the bathroom and bedrooms.

“Let me take your coat,” Hal offered.

Fina took off her outerwear and handed it to Hal. He hung it on a coatrack near the front door.

“Have a seat,” he said, directing her to the couch.

“I like your place, Hal. It’s very bright and cheery.”

“Thanks.” He beamed. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m good, thanks.”

Hal grabbed a laptop from his desk and joined her on the sofa. On the side table, there was a scattering of photos featuring Hal and a young girl. She looked to be about five years old.

“Is this your daughter?” Fina asked, picking up the photo.

“Yup. That’s Sarah.”

“How did I not know you have a daughter?” Fina wondered.

“I don’t usually talk about her with clients. Some of the people I do business with, I’d rather they not know about her.”

Fina nodded. Haley had been targeted by a creep during her last investigation, and she understood the inclination to protect one’s family. It was hard enough protecting Haley from her own father; Fina tried to avoid external threats whenever possible.

“Does she live with you?” she asked.

“Every other weekend and Wednesday nights,” Hal said. He looked at the photos and smiled.

“She’s really cute,” Fina said. “You know, I can get tickets to most everything that comes to the Garden. I’m getting
Disney on Ice
tickets for Cristian and his son. If you ever want to take Sarah to something, let me know.”

Hal thought about it for a moment. “You know what she’d love? That Irish clog-dancing group. If they come to town again, I’ll take you up on that.”

“You are a good dad,” Fina said. “That show seems like a guaranteed migraine.”

Hal shrugged. “She loves all kinds of dance.”

“I will keep my eyes open and let you know.” Fina sat back against the couch cushions. “What do you have for me?”

“I’m still working on the finances of that couple,” he said, “but I did poke around the NEU lab.”

“Okay.”

Hal clicked a few keys on his laptop. “NEU is a private school, so they don’t get any tax money for support.”

Fina nodded.

“They depend on the annual fund and other donations for most of their operating budget, but the labs get government and private support in the form of grants and other charitable programs.”

“Did you get a sense of the financial health of the Schaefer Lab?”

“Their budget seems pretty tight, but that’s not unusual for a research facility.”

“Was there anything that jumped out at you?” Fina asked.

He scooched forward on the couch. “I did come across one thing that was interesting.”

Hal loved reporting his findings, and time willing, Fina tried not to rush him. It seemed to be one of the highlights of his job.

“So there’s a big grant given out by a consortium of pharmaceutical companies every five years to support long-term studies,” he explained. “The Schaefer Lab was on the short list of finalists this year, but didn’t get the grant.”

“How long was the short list?” she asked. “Presumably there were other labs that also lost out.”

“There were five other labs that didn’t get funding, but what was interesting was the chatter, for lack of a better word, that I found on some scientific forums.”

“What kind of chatter?” Fina asked.

“Rumor has it that there was some internal conflict at the Schaefer Lab that had an impact on their application. A couple of people were suggesting it’s the reason the lab wasn’t awarded funding. It sounded like it was theirs to lose, and they did.”

“So it wasn’t just a matter of it being a tough break, but they did everything they could. Better luck next time. That sort of thing?”

“That’s not what it sounded like, but you never know. They may just be sore losers,” Hal said.

“Did any names come up?” Fina asked. “Was there anyone in particular being blamed?”

“No, but that didn’t surprise me. These boards usually have a lot of innuendo and few facts.”

“Doesn’t mean they’re inaccurate,” Fina noted.

“No, but they should be taken with a grain of salt. Does this make any sense in the context of your case?” He looked hopeful.

“I think so. It’s definitely a good lead.” Fina gazed at the plants crowding the sills of the bay windows. They looked healthy, their leaves deep green and shiny. Fina had never had much luck with houseplants. Even the ones that were supposed to be impervious to a brown thumb had succumbed under her care, or lack thereof. “Which pharmaceutical companies are part of the consortium that gives out the grant?” She decided not to name Barnes Kaufcan specifically; sometimes it was good to see what Hal found on his own, without any prompting.

“I don’t have that info,” Hal said, tapping away. “I can find out, though.”

“That would be good. And by the way, the couple you’re looking into, the woman is going to die within the next twenty-four hours.”

Hal looked stricken. “How do you know that? That’s so creepy.”

“Because she’s been removed from life support,” Fina said. “The police are going to get more involved once that happens because it will be a murder case, not just assault. I just wanted to give you a heads-up so you know what you’re stepping into.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the warning.”

Hal helped her into her coat and opened the front door.

“Thanks, Hal,” she said. “Great work, as always.”

He blushed and studied his stocking-clad feet. “Thanks, Fina. I’ll let you know as soon as I have more info.”

“Looking forward to it,” Fina called over her shoulder. “And I’ll keep you and Sarah in mind for show tickets!”

Hal waved at her from his spot at the front door.

Hal was such a sweet man. Fina really hoped he never ended up in jail. He wouldn’t last a day.

—

O
h my God. That feels amazing. Don’t stop.”

It was early evening, and Fina was lying on Milloy’s portable massage table under a sheet. He was working on her back.

“Everybody is tight in this weather,” Milloy commented, his large hands kneading her flesh.

“I think we need to put a regular appointment on the books. No more of this ‘as needed’ business,” she said.

“I’m happy to. Your schedule is the one that’s so unpredictable.”

“You work with athletes, right?” Fina asked a minute later, her voice muffled by the face cradle.

“Yes.”

“Professional athletes?”

“A few, and also people who take their fitness routines seriously—triathletes, skiers, rowers. Why?”

“This case has got me thinking,” Fina said. “I spoke with a woman the other day who played college soccer, and she basically said that she would have played even with a head injury. I can’t imagine being that consumed by a sport or exercise.”

Milloy held the sheet away from her as she flipped over onto her back. “I think that’s because you’re lazy,” he said, starting down one leg.

“But don’t you think some of those people are obsessed? Isn’t their training excessive?”

“Sure, but if you’re a pro that’s how you pay the bills, and the amateurs think it’s worth the trade-offs.” Milloy adjusted the sheet, tucking it under one leg.

He worked silently, and Fina allowed her mind to wander. It cycled through its usual topics: work, family, and food. Milloy had tried to get her into meditation, which was just one facet of his strategy for healthy living. He’d given up after Fina kept popping up to add items to her to-do list. She could never just let her thoughts float by and observe them without judgment. If they were taking up space in her brain, the solution was getting them out of there, not giving them the run of the place. They agreed to disagree about the purpose of the practice.

“All set,” Milloy said five minutes later, giving her scalp a quick massage.

“That was heavenly.” Fina rolled over on her side and sat up, pulling the sheet around her.

Milloy wandered into the kitchen. He returned a minute later, drying his hands on a dish towel.

“What do you want to eat?” he asked.

“You choose.” Fina slid off the table and padded into her bedroom, where she put on old sweats and thick socks before coming back to the living room.

Milloy ended a call on his cell. “Sushi in twenty minutes.” He folded up his table and rested it against the wall near the front door.

Fina gathered soy sauce, chopsticks, and beers from the kitchen and placed them on the coffee table.

“Haley seemed pretty good the other night,” Milloy said.

Fina sat down next to him on the couch. “She seems okay.”

“That’s good, right?”

“It makes me nervous,” Fina said.

“Why?”

“I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Fina, a lot of shoes have dropped already. Melanie’s murder, Rand’s stuff, Haley’s troubles. There may not be any more shoes to drop,” he said.

“There are always more shoes.”

“Stop being so pessimistic. Whatever happens is out of your control.”

“So you say.” Fina reached for the TV remote and clicked it on. There were no enticing sporting events, so she let Milloy channel surf. He settled on a baking competition in which sugar artists had to sculpt a Wonder of the World out of sugar. They paused it for a moment when their food arrived, but started back up again once they were situated with their dinner.

“I don’t think you can compare the Taj Mahal and the Christ the Redeemer statue,” Fina commented after chewing on a slice of raw tuna. The sugar artist on the screen was wrestling with a cupola.

“Why not?” Milloy asked. “Which one do you think is more difficult?”

“The Taj Mahal. If you screw up Christ, you put another fold in his robe or claim that he’s just as God made him.”

Fina’s phone rang, and she glanced at the screen.

“I need to take this,” she told Milloy. “It’s work.” She pressed the answer key. “Hey. What’s up?” she asked Cristian, wiping wasabi off her finger.

“I’ve got some bad news.”

Fina got up off the couch and walked over to the window. “Go ahead.”

“Liz Barone died about half an hour ago.”

Fina swallowed.

“You there?” Cristian asked.

“I’m here. I’m just trying to wrap my head around it.”

“I know. She’s not much older than we are,” he said.

“Oh God,” Fina said. “I hadn’t even gone there. Who gave you the news?”

“The hospital. She was a crime victim, and now she’s a murder victim.”

“You haven’t spoken with Bobbi or Jamie?”

“Not yet. We’re trying to leave them in peace for a little while.”

“That sounds like a good idea.” Fina looked out and spotted what she thought of as a ghost ship. The large tanker was only illuminated at its stern and bow, leaving most of the ship blanketed in darkness. It looked clandestine, but was really anything but.

“I just wanted to let you know,” he said.

“Thanks, Cristian. I appreciate it.” She should tell him about the note, she knew, but Fina hesitated. She didn’t have the strength for a lecture from Cristian or Milloy.

“What’s going on?” Milloy asked when she rejoined him on the couch.

“The woman who was attacked? She was taken off life support this morning, and she just died.”

“Sorry,” Milloy said, reaching over to rub her leg.

They kept watching the competition as one creation fell to the floor and shattered into a million pieces.

“Life is very sucky sometimes, Milloy.”

“I know, Fina. I know.”

12.

“Fina, you should come out here,” Milloy called from the living room.

She rolled over in bed and felt around on the floor for some clothes. They’d somehow reached the same conclusion the night before—without any discussion—that Milloy should spend the night. Their relationship was very complicated or very simple, depending upon your point of view. Sometimes they supported each other in a more intimate way, and other times, they didn’t.

“What is it?” she asked, pulling on some sweats. She padded out into the living room, where Milloy was showered and dressed, sitting at the dining room table. He was eating toast and an omelet.

“I have eggs?” she asked, gazing at his plate.

“Do you want me to make you some?”

“No, thanks. What’s so important that you had to interrupt my beauty sleep?” She sat next to him and grabbed a piece of toast from his plate. Milloy pointed the remote at the TV and pressed play.