Brutality (31 page)

She opened the door and ushered him inside. “Hey, Hal.”

“Is this a bad time?” he asked. “I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were in.”

“This is a good time.”

He followed her into the living room, Fina gazing longingly in the direction of the bedroom. Alas, her nap was not to be.

“You look so nice, Fina,” Hal said, placing a computer bag on the floor and struggling out of his parka. “I’m not used to seeing you so dressed up.”

“I had to go to a funeral. Have a seat.” She wandered into the kitchen and returned a minute later with a glass of ice water, which she handed to him. Given his corpulent nature and perpetual signs of exertion, Fina was always a tad worried Hal would keel over in her home. Not that a glass of water would stave off the inevitable, but it seemed like a good first step.

“Thanks,” Hal said, taking a long drink. “Was it Liz Barone’s funeral?”

“It was,” Fina said. “No one likes funerals, but there’s something about little kids at their parent’s funeral that’s particularly depressing.”

Hal shook his head. “I can’t imagine if I died or my ex did. Sarah would be devastated.”

“Don’t even contemplate it,” Fina said. “I mean, contemplate it to the extent that you have your affairs in order, but then put it out of your mind.” Fina was well acquainted with estate planning; the Ludlow men might have been personal injury lawyers, but they acted like estate attorneys in their insistence of “having your affairs in order.” But they were also greedy control freaks, which might explain their diligence in that area.

“Don’t worry,” Hal said. “I’m very careful about that sort of thing.”

“Good.” Fina raised herself off the couch and tucked her feet underneath her. Hal averted his gaze, as if not wanting to catch her in a compromising position. “So do you have info about Liz?” Fina asked.

“What happened to your hand?” Hal asked.

Fina looked at the gauze. “Just a minor mishap.”

“You wouldn’t have it bandaged if it were minor,” Hal said seriously.

“You worry too much,” Fina insisted. “It’s really okay.”

Hal was one of the few people in her life who seemed genuinely distressed by the injuries she sustained. If she told him about the car fire, he’d probably get worked up and have trouble focusing. It was a story for another day.

“So, Liz?”

He glanced at her hand before continuing. “Right. Liz. A couple of things. First of all, I haven’t found any signs that she was having an affair, at least none of the telltale ones.”

“Like what? Hotel receipts, fancy restaurants?” Fina asked.

“Right. Victoria’s Secret.”

“I know people do that, but it’s such a cliché.”

“Most clichés have some truth to them,” Hal said. “Both men and women rack up those bills. Hundreds of dollars’ worth sometimes.”

Fina always thought that if novelty was your goal, you should buy new lingerie and model it for your current partner rather than finding a new partner. Granted, it wasn’t as exciting an option, but it was less expensive in the long run.

“So her expenses were pretty routine,” Fina said.

“Yes, and you know, I always say that it’s about the patterns.” Hal sipped his water.

“If the patterns change, that’s a red flag, but everybody has their own weird bugaboos when it comes to money.”

“Exactly. I don’t understand women who spend thousands of dollars on shoes, but that’s beside the point. It’s only noteworthy if that spending habit changes over time. Does she stop buying shoes? Does she buy even more or from a new place?”

“So Liz’s patterns hadn’t changed recently?” Fina asked.

“No. She was very consistent.”

“What about her husband, Jamie?”

“He’s consistent, too, but I did find one thing that piqued my curiosity.”

“Oh, goody.” Fina pulled Nanny’s afghan over her legs, as if settling in for a juicy story.

“Starting a few months ago, Jamie started withdrawing cash from a particular ATM in Central Square.”

“Okay.”

“So that’s a change in the pattern. Normally, he only took money out near their house or his office.”

“Neither of which is near Central Square,” Fina said.

“Correct, and the withdrawals have become more frequent over time.”

“How much is he taking out?”

“Initially it was a hundred dollars a pop, but more recently, up to three hundred,” Hal said.

“Did you find any receipts from purchases in the area? Any credit card charges?”

“The occasional purchase at CVS.”

“So the only thing that shows up in that neighborhood is the withdrawals and those small purchases?” Fina asked.

“That’s right.”

“When did this start?”

Hal reached into his computer bag and pulled out a slim laptop. He flipped open the top and tapped on some keys. “Mid-October. I can send you the exact dates.”

“Thanks. That would be helpful.” Fina thought about it for a moment. “Did you find any signs of significant debt?”

“No. They have a big mortgage, but so does everyone these days. No student loans.”

“Liz went to NEU on at least a partial soccer scholarship, so I’m not surprised by that,” Fina said.

“They did recently upgrade their insurance,” Hal noted.

“Life insurance?”

“And disability and long-term care.”

“That could just be good planning,” Fina said. “Liz, at least, was planning for a less than rosy future.”

“Her husband, of course, is the main beneficiary of her life insurance. Five hundred thousand is nothing to sneeze at.”

“But is it enough to kill someone for?” Fina asked. “Half a million doesn’t get you very far these days.”

“That’s a sad commentary, but maybe true. It depends how high off the hog you live, and I don’t get the sense that either Liz or Jamie had expensive tastes. Five hundred thousand could certainly make life easier,” Hal said. His fingers flew over the keyboard. “I just sent you my report. Read and destroy, as always.” He tucked his computer back into his bag.

“Of course. I never hang on to anything that I don’t want the cops to read.”

Hal shuddered. “God forbid.” He placed his nearly empty glass on the coffee table and struggled to a standing position. Fina handed him his coat and walked him to the door.

“Don’t be a stranger, Hal,” she said.

“Always a pleasure, Fina.”

She watched him walk to the elevator before closing her door and taking a seat in front of her computer at the dining room table. Hal’s e-mail was sitting in her inbox. She clicked it open and perused the details they had just discussed, not learning anything new.

Unfortunately, it was too late to nap; by the time she woke up, Fina would want to get ready for bed, so she decided to do a little work and touch base with Milloy instead. She left him a message wondering if he was available for dinner, then dialed Cristian.

“Menendez.”

“Hey,” Fina said.

“I’m guessing you want something from me,” Cristian said. Fina could hear a child in the background and a singsong sound track that would garner better results than waterboarding.

“Is that Matteo?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“What’s that awful music?”

“It’s one of his train videos,” Cristian said.

“Sounds horrible.”

“I don’t even notice.”

“Parental deafness,” Fina said. “I’ve heard it’s a vital skill.”

“We were talking about what you want.”

“Right. Could you send me a copy of the videotape from the parking garage?” Fina asked.

“Not necessarily.”

“Well, then, how about some still photos of the guy?”

“Maybe,” Cristian said. “You’re going to try to identify him?”

“That’s the plan.”

“We’re working on it, you know.”

“I’m not questioning your competency, Cristian, just the allocation of resources. I’m guessing that Liz’s murder and my car situation are not the only things you have to solve.”

“That’s true.”

“So let me help.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. See how painless that was?”

He snorted.

“I’ll talk to you soon then,” Fina said.

“Do you want to have dinner one of these nights?” Cristian said in a rush before she could hang up.

“Sure,” Fina responded, a slight question mark in her voice.

“You’re right; we haven’t seen much of each other outside of work,” he said. “I thought we should remedy that.”

“I’d love that, but there’s a reason we haven’t seen each other, and that reason is named Cindy.”

There was a long pause. “Yeah, she’s not really a reason anymore,” he said.

“You broke up?”

“Something like that.”

“I’m sorry, Cristian. I thought things were going well.”

“They were. It’s just . . .” He trailed off.

“Dinner would be nice,” Fina said, no more anxious than he was to do a postmortem on his relationship. “Just let me know when, and I look forward to getting that videotape and maybe the inventory from the crime scene at Liz’s house.”

“Photos, wisenheimer, and I didn’t make any promises.”

“You never do,” she said, hanging up.

She sat on the couch, pondering the turn of events. She wanted Cristian to be happy, but she was glad to hear that Cindy the speech pathologist wasn’t the woman of his dreams. Before she could contemplate it further, Fina’s phone rang, and she hatched a dinner plan with Milloy. He’d be over in about an hour, which gave her time for one more call.

Fina scrolled through the numbers on her phone and pressed the button for Greta Samuels. She was on the brink of hanging up when Risa’s aunt answered.

“Hello?” Greta always answered the phone with a question instead of a declaration of greeting.

“Greta? It’s Fina Ludlow, Risa’s friend.”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“Fina Ludlow. Risa’s friend.” Unlike Risa, Fina had met Greta in person. Their brief interaction had been contentious, leaving neither woman with warm, fuzzy feelings. Fina’s ire had only grown since hearing about Greta’s claim that her kidney donor was a selfless stranger. She considered asking her about it, but really, what was the point?

“How are things with you?” Fina asked.

“Not very good.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Greta sniffed, and Fina rolled her eyes.

“Risa would like to meet with you,” Fina said.

“I thought she didn’t want to meet me.” Greta sounded hopeful, but skeptical.

“She wasn’t ready to, but now she is.”

“That would be wonderful.”

“Good. I know travel isn’t easy for you, but I’m wondering if you could meet us someplace other than Rockford.”

There was a pause. “Us?”

“Yes, I would be joining you,” Fina said.

“You mean you’re going to drive her to the meeting?” Greta asked.

“And join you as you get acquainted.”

“My health is a family matter, Fina,” she said. “It’s really not your business.”

Fina rubbed her temple, feeling a headache coming on.

“Here’s the thing, Greta. Risa is practically part of my family, and she’s asked me to participate. Secondly, you’re not in a position to dictate terms.”

“You make it sound like a business meeting,” Greta said disparagingly.

“You may be biologically connected, but you and Risa don’t actually know each other. For all intents and purposes, you’re strangers, which does make this a business meeting of sorts.”

“Fine. If that’s how you want to do it.”

“It’s not how I want to do it,” Fina clarified. “It’s how Risa wants to do it.”

“That’s fine.” Greta sounded annoyed, and Fina didn’t give a shit. Organ beggars didn’t get to be choosers.

“How about Tuesday? Do you have dialysis or are you available?” Fina asked.

“I’m available.”

“Do you still have the same e-mail address?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’ll send you the particulars and the location once I figure it out.”

“How is Risa?” Greta asked before she could hang up.

“She’s well.” Fina didn’t elaborate.

“And her tests are going okay?”

“As far as I know, the tests are going okay.”

“Well, that’s good,” Greta said.

“Good night.” Fina hung up and scowled at the phone.

She hadn’t walked in Greta’s shoes—didn’t know what it was like to need something so desperately that only one person could provide—but regardless, the woman rubbed her the wrong way. Risa had her own family, and Greta never asked after them or seemed curious about things that weren’t directly connected to her own experience. Maybe her circumstances created blinders, or maybe Greta just didn’t care about her niece.

21.

Fina woke the next day feeling rested and ready to pound the pavement. Dinner with Milloy had banished any lingering annoyance with Greta Samuels, and she’d slept well. Fina wondered if the funeral having come and gone also contributed to her good mood. Even though she hadn’t known Liz personally, the anticipation of her death and burial had cast a certain pall over Fina’s days. Liz’s life was officially over, but Fina felt like her investigation was just getting started.

Cristian had relented and sent her stills from the surveillance photos and even thrown in a copy of the crime scene inventory. Fina reviewed the list, but nothing struck her as unusual. The items the police found in Liz’s kitchen were exactly what you’d expect to find: mail, bills, a sweatshirt, a pair of kid’s soccer cleats, an empty laundry basket, and the typical eating and cooking detritus. Fina tucked the information away for the time being.

Her enthusiasm about the case waned when she retrieved a message from her father. Fina had learned at a young age that it was best to suck it up and deal with Carl head-on. Avoiding him was a fruitless endeavor, so you might as well just call him back—sooner rather than later.

“I’m working on it if you’re calling about the car fire,” she told him.

“Good, but that’s not why I’m calling.”

“Oh! Are you just calling to wish me a good morning? Perhaps inquire after my health and well-being?”

“Are you on something, Josefina?” he asked. “You sound high.”

Fina sighed. “If only. What’s up, Dad?”

“I want to meet with Bobbi Barone as soon as possible.”