Brutality (35 page)

She found him seated on a bench in the hallway, which was empty aside from a handful of people on their phones.

“Hi,” Fina said, taking a seat next to him.

“Hey.”

She took a deep breath. “Let me start by apologizing for my attitude on Saturday night,” she said. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”

Cristian looked at her. “Maybe I should take you down to the impound lot and show you the wrecks from people who insist on talking and texting while they drive.”

“Cristian, I never text while I drive,” she insisted.

“Fine. The ones who talk. It’s just as dangerous as driving drunk.”

“I understand that this is your thing, but I’m an adult, Cristian. I don’t know why I should be held to a stricter standard than the rest of the commonwealth.”

“I don’t care about the rest of the commonwealth,” he said, tugging at his tie.

“That’s sweet,” she said, touching his arm lightly, “but annoying.”

The doors next to them swung open, and a woman in a suit walked out at a clip.

“Do you have time for some lunch?” Fina asked.

He shook his head. “Nah. They told me to stay in the building.”

“Are there any vending machines? I’m hungry.”

Cristian led her down the hallway to an alcove that housed three vending machines. One offered drinks, another candy and snacks, and the third featured shelves on a turnstile apparatus. That machine contained sandwiches in triangular plastic containers, under-ripe fruit, and yogurt.

“Who eats that stuff?” Fina asked, studying the sandwiches. “Who knows how long they’ve been in there?”

“They must have expiration dates,” Cristian said, fishing in his pocket for change. He dropped coins into the drink machine and selected a bottle of thick-looking green juice.

“What about that?” Fina asked, eyeing his choice. “Does that have an expiration date? It looks like medical waste.”

“Thanks for sharing.” He dropped more change into the machine and selected a dark red smoothie.

“Who’s that for?” Fina asked.

He handed her the bottle. “It’s sweet. Give it a try.”

“Really?”

“Humor me.”

Fina took the proffered bottle reluctantly.

“Listen,” Cristian said as they returned to the bench, “we got some information about the device that was planted on your car.”

“What’s the deal?” she asked.

“Our techs think it was a mid-range device in terms of sophistication.”

Fina uncapped the drink and nodded.

“If it had been built by a pro, you and Scotty would be dead,” Cristian continued.

“I’d never live that down,” Fina said.

Cristian rolled his eyes. “But it definitely required some chemical know-how. I’m not an expert, but apparently the fire was caused by an incendiary metal that was made into beads and covered in wax. The bomber put the beads in some kind of a mesh bag in the radiator, and when the radiator heated up, the wax melted and then something about metal and water making hydrogen and fire.”

Fina looked at him blankly. “Cristian, I failed high school chemistry. Gimme a break.”

He grinned.

“What about the components?” Fina asked. “Anything that will help you track down our guy, assuming it is a guy?”

Cristian took a swig of the green liquid. “I think it’s a safe assumption we’re looking for a man; for whatever reason, they enjoy blowing things up more than women. The main ingredient was lithium metal; that’s what the beads were made of. You might be able to order it online, but it’s generally found in labs.”

Fina asked. “What kind of labs?”

“The kind of lab where Liz Barone worked,” Cristian said.

“Or the kind of lab run by Barnes Kaufcan?”

“Yes,” Cristian said. “That kind of lab.”

Fina sipped the berry-flavored smoothie. “So Vikram Mehra and Kevin Lafferty are still in the frame?”

“Yes, but so are half of your brother’s clients,” Cristian added. “He’s sued a lot of doctors and other people who might have access to these materials.”

“I suppose it doesn’t narrow things down,” Fina said, “but it does give me a reason to follow up with some people.”

Cristian eyed her. “Remember that Pitney isn’t happy with you. I suggest you tread lightly.”

“Pitney is never happy with me.” She looked at the label on her drink. Oh good Lord, it contained beets. “I assume you guys are going to talk to Vikram and Kevin.”

“Of course.”

“Sloppy seconds, as usual,” Fina said.

“If you wanted first dibs, you should have been a cop,” Cristian responded.

“No, thanks. I’m good. Any word on Kevin Lafferty’s alibi?”

“He was at the Westin that night, but there’s a chunk of time for which his movements are unaccounted for. So far, we aren’t getting anywhere.”

“That’s annoying,” Fina said. She squeezed his arm. “Thanks for the update.”

“Sure.” Cristian drained his bottle and screwed the top back on. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” he asked, gesturing at her half-empty bottle.

“I have to admit that it was rather tasty.”

He grinned. “Wonders never cease. When are we doing dinner?”

“Whenever you want,” Fina said. She turned on the bench and looked at him. “Is this dinner going to be a date?”

Cristian squirmed on the bench. “No, it’s what it always is with us.”

“Which is?”

“We like to hang out.”

“Okay. How about tonight?”

Cristian tossed his bottle in the recycling bin. “Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Fina knew that a detective’s schedule was unpredictable. If you were someone who needed things set in stone and plans kept, you shouldn’t spend time with a cop. The uncertainty was enough to drive some people—like Cristian’s ex—batty. “Keep in touch, and I appreciate the info.”

“And you’ll let me know if you come up with something on your end?” he asked.

“Of course.” Fina smiled and started down the hallway.

She wasn’t sure if Cristian’s recent dalliance with monogamy had made him long for the days of their casual relationship. Fina was pleased with the notion that he’d become more available, but a little frustrated, too. She’d just gotten used to his absence.

—

H
al called while Fina sat in traffic on Mass Ave.

“How’s your hand?” he asked.

“Practically healed,” she told him. “You’d never know it happened.”

“Except you won’t soon forget a car fire.”

“How’d you know it was a car fire?” Fina asked, allowing a car to merge in front of her. Sometimes she liked to throw off her fellow Boston drivers by being civil and benevolent.

“You were injured, and the fire was on the news. I put two and two together.”

“I’m practically as good as new, Hal. What do you have for me?”

“You know that grant that we discussed? The one that the Schaefer Lab wasn’t awarded?”

“Yes,” Fina said, blocking a different car from cutting in front of her. She didn’t want anyone to get used to her generosity. “Vikram Mehra blamed Liz for that.”

“Right. Well, you asked me to research the pharmaceutical companies who sponsor the grant. I’ve got the names.”

“Great. Let me hear ’em.”

Fina tapped her thumbs on the steering wheel as Hal recited a roll call that included Pfizer, Merck, Bristol-Myers Squibb, and a few companies she didn’t recognize. He concluded the list with the one she’d been hoping to hear.

“Did you say Barnes Kaufcan?” Fina asked.

“Yup. They’re smaller than the others in terms of sales, but they’re sponsors just like the big ones,” Hal said.

“Who was awarded the grant this year? Someone local?”

“Nope. A lab at Rice University. Do you want me to get more information about that particular lab?”

“No, thanks. This is great. Thanks, Hal.”

“Anytime. Be careful, Fina. Are you checking your car before you get into it?”

Fina rolled her eyes. “I’m perfectly safe, Hal. No need to worry.”

She disconnected the call before he could continue his train of thought. She didn’t need Cristian’s lectures about her driving habits or Hal’s warnings about her safety. She wasn’t a fan of unsolicited advice.

—

S
he parked her car a few streets away from Central Square and headed to the restaurant on her list of businesses near Jamie’s ATM that afforded a closer look. Unfortunately, the staff in the French bistro didn’t recognize a photo of Jamie, so Fina moved on.

Back outside she contemplated the two bars that had caught her eye the other night. The first was a seedy dive with a smattering of patrons who could best be described as affectless, wan, and rumpled. No one claimed to know Jamie, and Fina was happy to make a quick exit and take a deep breath of fresh air. It was freezing out, but at least it was sunny. The people inside the bar were like moles, burrowing in the earth, limiting their stimuli. It couldn’t be good for their eyesight and mood, let alone their livers.

Her last stop was another bar, not yet open for business. Fina peeked through a window and saw a man righting chairs from the tabletops. She knocked, but he ignored her and continued with the task at hand. Fina banged a second time and engaged in a muted discussion with him until he finally relented and opened the door.

“We’re closed,” he said when he popped his head out the door.

“I know. I just have a quick question. Can I come in for a sec?” She hugged her arms tight. He pulled the door open wider, and Fina stepped past him into the bar. He locked the door behind her.

This establishment was light-years away from its neighbor in terms of ambience and, presumably, clientele. Four-top tables dominated the space, and exposed lightbulbs in mason jars hung from the pressed-tin ceiling. A large mirror behind the bar sat in an ornate wooden frame, reflecting back the room. A quick glance at the chalkboard menu revealed gourmet and unconventional takes on the usual bar fare, like pork belly sliders and carrot fritters. At the far end of the room, there was a stage raised a couple of steps off the floor.

“Do you guys have live music?” Fina asked as the man pulled another overturned chair from a tabletop.

“Yeah. Wednesday through Sunday. Was that your question?” He looked to be in his midthirties, with a bushy beard and mustache. He was wearing black jeans and a flannel shirt over a T-shirt. He looked like an indie rocker lumberjack.

“No,” Fina said, “but I think I’ve come to the right place.”

He nodded for her to continue.

“This is going to sound crazy, but I’m planning a birthday party for my friend, and I’m trying to include all of her favorite things.” Fina followed him to the next table. “There’s a local band that used to be really popular, and I’m trying to figure out if they still perform.”

“Did you try looking on the Internet?” he asked, smirking.

“Obviously, but I didn’t find anything. But this seems to be the go-to place for good live music.” Lie, lie, lie. It may have been true, but if so, her mentioning it was merely a coincidental collision with the truth. She was so going to hell.

“Which band?”

“Wells Missionary. The lead singer was Jamie Gottlieb.”

He paused, resting his hands on the back of a chair. “I know Jamie, but those guys don’t play together anymore.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” Fina said, feigning disappointment.

“Sorry. They might be available—for a price.”

Fina winced. “I’m kind of on a tight budget.”

He set the final chair down on the floor and pushed it under the table. Behind the bar, the man washed his hands at the sink.

“Jamie still comes in and jams, though,” he said, drying his hands on a bar towel.

“Really? It’s not the same as the band, but it would still be cool to see him,” Fina mused. “Is he here on a regular basis?”

“Pretty often, but he’s got a regular job and a family now,” he said with a withering look.

“Do you know if he’ll be in this week?” Fina asked.

“When’s the party exactly?”

“Not for a couple of weeks,” Fina said, “but I’d love to stop by and hear him.”

“You should drop by. Even if Jamie isn’t here, our other bands are awesome.”

“Okay. I’ll do that. Thanks for the info,” Fina said, walking to the front. He followed and unlocked the door.

“What did you say your name was?” he asked.

“Amy, and you’re . . . ?” She smiled at him.

“Marshall.”

Fina offered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Marshall. Maybe I’ll see you one of these nights.”

“I’ll buy you a drink,” he said.

Fina kept smiling and nodded before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

Marshall seemed like a lovely fellow, but he was a little too hirsute for her taste. Fina liked her male companions to look as if they had some familiarity with shaving cream and a razor.

—

K
evin Lafferty had left the office for the day, but could be found at NEU attending a volleyball match. Fina learned this from his extremely helpful assistant, Colin, after she adopted a slight accent and claimed she was calling about one of Kevin’s children. She routinely took advantage of people’s naïveté and goodwill, but honestly, someone had to teach them to be more guarded.

She drove back across the river to the university and parked near the sports complex. She used the same trick to gain access as before—sneaking in behind a crew of flirtatious undergraduate boys—and asked at the front desk for the location of the volleyball game. The directions took her down a hallway that opened up to a small atrium with a couple of couches and a smattering of tables. Large doors were propped open, beyond which Fina could see what appeared to be volleyball warm-ups. A group of women on each side of the net was engaged in drills, punching at the ball and diving at the unforgiving wooden floor. Just watching made Fina’s knees and wrists hurt.

Before venturing into the echo chamber of the gym, she scanned the lounge area, which had a small snack bar. Kevin Lafferty was at the counter, talking to an older man who was clutching a tub of popcorn.

Fina fell into line behind them. She listened as Kevin ordered a lemonade and the two men debated the strengths of the opposing teams. As they stepped away from the counter, Fina interrupted.