Brutality (7 page)

But shock and trauma were such curious things; sometimes it was hard to determine if weird behavior was the result, or just plain weird.

—

F
ina went home and called Milloy, her best friend, massage therapist, and overall Renaissance man. They’d met in college and discovered during orientation week that they were kindred spirits. They were both loyal and dependable, and neither enjoyed analyzing their feelings. Sometimes their relationship was romantic, and sometimes it wasn’t. It depended on the day.

She invited him over for pizza and a massage—provided by him, not her—but he took a rain check.

“Maybe you should plan ahead a little,” he suggested. “Not assume that I’m available at the last minute.”

“I didn’t assume that. I hoped. You know, ‘hope springs eternal in the human breast.’”

“Leave your breasts out of this.”

“Are you available on Thursday evening, good sir?” she asked.

“I’m waiting to hear back from a client, but I think so.”

“Good. I look forward to it.”

Picking up the phone and ordering pizza seemed like too much work, and cooking would have been a Herculean effort, so she grabbed a handful of Ritz crackers and smeared them with peanut butter.

Fina finished eating and snuggled under Nanny’s afghan on the living room couch. She pulled her computer onto her lap, marveling at the heat provided by the machine. What did the pioneers do without electronics to warm their nether regions?

HGTV was airing a showcase of unusual homes that provided nice background noise as she researched Kelly Wegner, whom she hoped to interview the next day. Cyberspace offered little of interest: Her husband, Josh, worked for an insurance company, they were active in the Methodist church, and Kelly participated in a number of charity road races.

Fina picked up her phone and dialed Emma Kirwan, her guru for all things computer-related.

“Yes?” Emma answered.

“Not even hello?”

“Did you really call me for conversation, Fina?”

Emma was extremely conservative and rigid, except for the myriad illegal activities she performed on her computer. Fina had yet to give her a computer quandary she couldn’t crack, and she’d proved invaluable in past cases. Despite that, Fina always stumbled over her cashmere twin sets and sensible shoes. Emma looked like she should be leading a book group discussion about Glenn Beck’s newest tome, not hacking into secure networks.

“I need you to look into someone for me,” Fina said. “Her name is Liz Barone. She was attacked in her home a few days ago, and the cops have her computer.”

“Well, that limits me.”

“I know, but can’t you float up into the cloud or whatever it is and find me some dirt?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’ll do,” Emma said dryly.

“I can hear your eyes rolling, Emma. Just do what you can,” Fina said. “She also works for NEU in a lab.”

“What kind of lab?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t think she was developing deadly viruses or anything like that.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but labs are usually well protected, and it’s too risky.”

“Like I said, just do what you can. I’m particularly interested in anything related to the NEU development office and a woman named Pamela Fordyce.”

“I’ll let you know when I find something,” Emma said, ending the call.

Fina put down her phone and grabbed the folder that Thatcher Kinney had given her. She pulled out the school newspapers and studied the photos more carefully, identifying Kelly and Tasha in a number of them. Other players wearing the NEU uniform were pictured, as was the man Fina assumed to be Coach Adams, wearing an NEU jacket and those ill-fitting slacks—yes, slacks—that seemed to be the favored attire of coaches.

As she studied the photos, two other people caught her eye. They were both white men, one who looked to be in his midtwenties, the other about a decade older. The younger one was handsome, and in a couple of the pictures, he had his arms slung around the players in a pose of easy familiarity. The older man stood off to the side a bit, but was also smiling. His posture was more upright, and he wore a suit jacket and a tie. Other than the players and the coach, these two were the only consistent faces on the NEU sideline.

Just who were these super-fans?

—

F
ina called Kelly Wegner shortly after eight the next morning. Interviewees who were parents were always up early and had generally crossed more off their to-do lists by nine
A.M.
than some people did all day. This was precisely why Fina admired them and had no interest in joining their ranks.

Kelly had just dropped her kids at school and was at the grocery store. She had to swing by the dry cleaner and the post office, but would be happy to meet Fina at Liz and Jamie’s house in two hours.

Fina dragged herself down to the gym and logged a few miles on the treadmill. Back upstairs, she showered off the sweat and pulled on a pair of jeans, a sweater, and thick wool socks, her go-to outfit these days.

When she pulled up to Liz and Jamie’s house, the exterior light was burning brightly just as it had been the night before. There really was no point in turning it off for the mere eight hours of milky daylight with which they were graced this time of year. A gray minivan was parked in the driveway next to the minivan from last night. There were a couple of kid-related decals on the rear window, but a quick glimpse of the interior didn’t reveal any empty juice boxes or smooshed-up Goldfish crackers. Fina walked to the front door and rang the bell. A minute later, she was greeted by a compact woman with a blond bob.

“Kelly? I’m Fina Ludlow.”

“Nice to meet you,” Kelly said. She wasn’t much over five feet three inches, but she looked solid, with short, stocky legs. Her jeans were tight, and her sweater showcased broad shoulders. Stepping back from the door, she ushered Fina into the house.

“You can leave your boots and stuff here,” she offered. “I feel like this winter is never going to end.”

“Technically, I think it just started,” Fina commented.

“I know, but it feels worse this year, don’t you think?”

“It definitely feels colder.” Fina placed her boots on the plastic boot tray and pulled off her coat.

“It makes running a real pain,” Kelly said, smoothing her hand over the back of an upholstered chair.

“You’re a runner?” Fina asked innocently. Some people were flattered to know that you’d done some research on them, but others found it creepy. It was too soon to tell which camp Kelly lived in.

“Yup, but it’s tough when the streets are such a mess and the sidewalks aren’t shoveled.”

“And it’s icy,” Fina said. “Sounds dangerous.”

“That’s why I’ve been spending a lot of time on the treadmill these days.”

The cluttered living room from the night before had been transformed into a room that could be featured in a home-decorating magazine. The only newspaper in evidence was the day’s
Globe
, and the container of art supplies had been stowed on a bookcase. There was no sign of laundry, the pillows looked fluffed, and a throw had been neatly folded and laid over the back of the sofa. A mild cooking scent perfumed the air.

Fina followed Kelly to the kitchen.

“Is there any news from the hospital?” Fina asked.

Kelly shook her head. “Just watch and wait. Do you want some coffee?”

“Please.” Fina took a seat at the table.

“So I have to admit,” Kelly said, her back to Fina, “I don’t quite understand why Jamie hired you.”

“Well, technically, Bobbi Barone hired me, but they both want to know who hurt Liz.”

Kelly brought a steaming mug of coffee over to the table and pushed milk and sugar in Fina’s direction. “Isn’t that what the police are for?”

“Yes, but I’m an extra set of eyes and ears. And I have some contacts they don’t.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Kelly said, “I’m glad they hired you. I just wasn’t sure how it worked.”

Fina wrapped her hands around the hot mug. “How did you find out that Liz was hurt?”

“Jamie called me. I live a few streets away. Liz and I went to NEU together, and our kids are friends.” Kelly bustled back over to the sink and ran the tap. She picked up a clump of steel wool and began scouring a cookie sheet.

“Do you have any idea who might want to hurt Liz?” Fina poured milk into her mug and dropped in a generous spoonful of sugar. “Any enemies that you’re aware of?”

“She’s a soccer mom,” Kelly said over her shoulder. “What kind of enemies would she have?”

“Lots of people have enemies. Sometimes the people you least expect have the most complicated relationships.”

“Not Liz. The most complicated thing in her life was that lawsuit, and I’m not convinced anything was going to come of it.”

“What makes you say that?” Fina asked.

“It just seems like David and Goliath.”

“How long have you known about it?”

“She’s been talking to the attorney for a month or so, but she’d been after NEU for about six months.” Kelly shook the cookie sheet over the sink and slotted it into a drying rack. “She told me about it when she started having issues.”

“Cognitive issues?”

“Yup.” Kelly wrung out the sponge and began wiping down the counters. She hadn’t made much progress when a timer beeped. After donning two pot holders, Kelly reached into the oven and pulled out what looked like a lasagna. The white cheese on the top was lightly browned and bubbling. Kelly seemed more familiar with Liz’s kitchen than Fina was with her own, but perhaps that wasn’t saying much.

“It’s nice of you to come over here and help out,” Fina commented.

Kelly gave a pained smile. “Do you think it’s too much? I don’t want to overstep, but I thought I should make myself useful until it’s time to pick up the kids.”

“I’m sure Liz and Jamie appreciate it.”

“Liz and I try to help each other when we can. When I had foot surgery last year, she was a lifesaver.”

“Sounds like you’re good friends to each other.”

“This”—Kelly made a sweeping motion—“is also kind of selfish. Cooking and cleaning keep me calm. I know it sounds crazy.”

“That does sound crazy,” Fina said, “but thank goodness there are people like you in the world.”

Fina sipped her coffee, which was still too bitter despite her ministrations. She preferred her hot beverages to be sweet, ideally with a thick coating of whipped cream. “Anyone else you think I should talk to?”

Kelly returned the pot holders to a drawer and leaned her hip against the counter. “Like who?”

“Friends, colleagues. I’m just trying to get a better sense of Liz outside the context of the lawsuit.”

“You should call Tasha. She’s one of Liz’s closest friends from college.”

“Tasha Beemis-Jones?” Fina asked. Kelly nodded. “Jamie and Bobbi mentioned her. She played soccer with you guys, right?”

“Yup. She’s an attorney now, downtown.” Kelly left the room and returned a moment later with an overflowing laundry basket.

Fina was getting worn out from the dervish dance of homemaking activities. “Anyone else?”

“I’d have to think about it,” Kelly said, taking a seat at the end of the table. She grabbed a soccer shirt from the basket and shook it out before neatly folding it and placing it on an empty chair.

Fina reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of the school newspapers. “Do you recognize these two men?” She pointed at the mystery fans she’d identified the night before.

Kelly craned her neck to get a better look. “That’s Kevin Lafferty.” She pointed at the younger of the two.

“Who’s he?”

“He worked for NEU for a year or two, and now he’s president of the booster club.”

“What’s that?” Fina asked.

“It’s a group of alums who support the athletic programs. They’re all sports nuts and have lots of school pride. They attend the games and do fund-raisers, and as president, Kevin interacts a lot with the coaches and the student athletes.”

“Sounds like a full-time job.”

“It’s a volunteer position, but he devotes a lot of time to it.”

Fina looked skeptical. “Huh.”

“It’s a social thing,” Kelly explained, “and people get to pretend they never left college. There’s also a certain status attached to it on campus. The top boosters are treated like VIPs.”

“Got it. So what’s he do the rest of the time?” Fina asked.

Kelly scrunched up her face in thought. “I think he works in the pharmaceutical industry.”

“Do you know how to reach him?”

“No, I can’t remember the name of the company, but Tasha might.”

“And him?” Fina pointed at the older man.

“That’s our team doctor, Gus Sibley.” Kelly smoothed down the stack of clothes that she’d already folded.

“Is he still alive? Jamie mentioned that Coach Adams died.”

“I think Dr. Sibley’s alive, but I don’t know for sure.”

“Last you heard was he still at NEU?”

“I think so. He was still there when we graduated.”

“So these two were at every game?” Fina pointed at the men in the photo.

“Well, Dr. Sibley had to be, and I think Kevin attended most of them. To be honest, I was focused on what was happening on the field. I didn’t pay much attention to the sidelines.”

“Of course. That makes sense.” Fina sipped her coffee. “What about Liz’s job? Did she enjoy it?”

“I think so. I mean, she felt the guilt that all working mothers do, but she seemed to like it. I know that sometimes the politics could get heated, but Liz was no shrinking violet.”

“Any coworkers in particular you think I should speak with?”

Kelly folded a tiny pair of briefs. “She’s mentioned a woman named Dana before. She also talked about her boss; they don’t get along.”

“Vikram?” Fina asked.

“Yeah.”

Fina stood and took her coffee cup over to the sink. She poured the contents down the drain, washed it, and left it upended on the drying rack. “Did Liz act any differently the past few weeks? Was she upset or distracted?”

Kelly shook her head. “Not that I noticed. The lawsuit was definitely weighing on her, but that was nothing new. Obviously, she was worried about her health. It’s a mother’s worst nightmare, thinking she might not be around for her kids.”