Brutality (9 page)

“Some small things, but we don’t see each other as often as we’d like. Mostly, she recounted things to me,” Tasha said, staring at her reflection in the mirror. “You just never think that something like this is going to happen.”

Fina wasn’t sure if she was referring to the MCI or the attack. “I know. It’s awful.” They were silent for a minute. “What about at work?” Fina asked. “Any problems there?”

“I think there was some issue with her boss recently, but I don’t know the specifics. It wasn’t a personal issue, though, not a reason for someone to attack her.”

Sadly, physical attacks sometimes were related to workplace issues, but those generally occurred at work. It would have taken effort to track Liz down at her home.

“What’s her boss’s name?”

“Vikram . . . I can’t remember his last name.” Tasha adjusted the incline of her treadmill again.

Fina’s legs were aching, and she could feel a blister developing on her right heel. “I showed Kelly some old NEU newspapers this morning, and she pointed out two men that showed up in a lot of pictures: Kevin Lafferty and Gus Sibley.”

Tasha maintained her stride, but Fina saw her fingertips briefly touch the railing of the treadmill. She didn’t say anything.

“They were at most of the games?” Fina prompted.

“Dr. Sibley was since he was our team doctor, and Kevin was always hanging around.”

“Hanging around sounds kind of bad.”

“I don’t mean it to,” Tasha said. “He was just there a lot.”

“Have you had any contact with either of them since your playing days?” Fina asked.

“Intermittently. We bump into each other at NEU fund-raisers, that sort of thing.”

“Do you know how I could reach them?”

“I’m not sure what the point would be. Do you really think Liz’s attack has something to do with NEU?”

“I don’t know. That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Fina said. “Speaking with them is due diligence; I’m sure you can appreciate that.”

Tasha nodded. “Gus is still affiliated with NEU, and he has a private practice in Chestnut Hill, and Kevin’s the president of the booster club.”

“Do you know where he works?” Fina asked.

“Barnes Kaufcan, the pharmaceutical company.”

“Did you ever get the sense that Dr. Sibley had any misgivings about concussions when you and Liz were playing soccer? Was he pressured to play injured players?” Fina blotted her face with the towel. A dull pain radiated up her shins. She hoped to God this wasn’t a distance training day for Tasha.

“Not to my knowledge.”

“What was your experience with injuries?” Fina asked.

Tasha grabbed her water and chugged it. She dropped the bottle back into the cup holder before answering. “We got hurt. We were competing at a high level. What the staff said or didn’t say didn’t matter. I was competitive, and I made the choice to play hard,” Tasha said, staring straight ahead.

Before Fina could respond, an older black man wandered over and planted himself in front of Tasha’s treadmill. “We need to reschedule the exploratory meeting,” he said to her without any preamble.

Tasha glared at him. “Reed, this is Fina Ludlow. She’s a private investigator.”

The man looked spooked for an instant, then recovered and exchanged hellos with Fina.

“Call my office to reschedule, won’t you?” Tasha said tersely.

“Of course. I’ll be in touch.” He beat a hasty retreat.

Fina didn’t say anything for a moment, nor did Tasha.

“Mayor or city council?” Fina asked.

“I’m sorry?” Tasha peered at her.

“People convene exploratory committees when they’re thinking of running for office. So which office do you have in mind?”

Tasha decreased her speed and slowed to a walk. She grabbed the towel from the handrail and mopped her sweaty brow. Her makeup still looked untouched.

“No comment.”

“You’d make an excellent candidate,” Fina said. She hopped onto the sides of the moving belt before pressing the stop button.

“Uh-huh.”

“You can tell me. I’ll be discreet.”

Tasha rolled her eyes and pulled one foot toward her butt to stretch her quadriceps muscle. “Discretion is not the first thing that comes to mind when I hear the name
Ludlow
.” She stretched the other leg before stepping off the treadmill.

Fina followed her to the water cooler. “Is there anyone else you think I should talk to about Liz?” she asked.

“No, but I’ll let you know if I think of anyone.” Tasha took a long gulp from her refilled water bottle. “I’ve got to go, but you’re welcome to stay and work out some more.”

Fina pretended to seriously consider the suggestion. “I think I’m good.”

Tasha smiled. “Well, in that case, they have amazing products in the locker room, plus a Jacuzzi and a sauna. Take your time in there.”

“That sounds infinitely more appealing. Thanks.”

“If you hear anything about Liz, give me a call,” Tasha said before disappearing into the locker room.

“Of course.”

Fina refilled her bottle before wandering into the locker room, where she stayed in the Jacuzzi until her fingers got pruney.

She wasn’t quite sure what she’d gleaned from the conversation other than an elevated heart rate and sore hamstrings.

6.

Fina retreated home—given the arctic temperatures and her muscle fatigue, a nap seemed like the right course of action, but she staved off the urge. She called Scotty’s assistant, Michelle, to get an update on the Disney ticket situation. Fina joked about trading favors, but she was a big believer in quid pro quo. Sometimes people were altruistic and selfless, but more often they were looking to further their own interests or the interests of the people they cared about. Even so, most people clung tightly to the idea that relationships were equal and neither party should have the upper hand. No one wanted to feel like they were getting the short end of the stick. That was what drove lawsuits, after all: making someone “whole” after they’d been wronged. Cristian was her friend, and she liked making him and Matteo happy, but she also knew it was good for business.

Fina grabbed a diet soda and plopped down on the couch before dialing Cristian.

“Menendez.”

“Hey. How’s it going?”

“Fine. How are you?” It was quiet in the background, which suggested he wasn’t at the station.

“I’m good.” She sipped her drink.

There was a pregnant pause.

“Good news: There’s a
Disney on Ice
show coming up,” Fina said. “It’s called ‘Let’s Celebrate!’ It’s—and I quote—a ‘magical medley of holidays, celebrations, and festivities from around the globe,’ including a luau, Mardi Gras, and Valentine’s Day. It sounds absolutely horrific.”

“Which means Teo will love it. Let me check the custody schedule and I’ll give you some possible dates.”

“Is there any way we could meet up today?”

“What do you want?” he asked suspiciously.

“I want to share my progress on the Liz Barone case with you.”

Cristian laughed. “Of course you do. I’m pretty busy working on that case myself, so why don’t you just tell me over the phone?”

“It’s so much more fun to give you updates in person,” Fina said. It was true: Flirting with Cristian face-to-face was way more satisfying than on the phone.

“I’ll be at the Jim Roche ice rink in West Roxbury at five
P.M
. I’ll have ten minutes or so.”

“Why are you going to an ice rink when it’s ten degrees outside?”

“Why do you think, Sherlock?”

Cristian hung up, and Fina cursed her miscalculation.

Even Cristian wasn’t worth freezing her ass off.

—

I
t was about twenty-five degrees in the rink, and loud. The place was crawling with kids, most of them lumbering under the weight of hockey pads and helmets. Fina arrived just as the Zamboni emerged to smooth the shaved and pitted surface into a glassy, wet layer.

A couple of the benches in the locker room area were occupied by men and women wearing pads and police department hockey shirts. Fina spotted Cristian and caught his eye. People on the force knew they were friends, but she didn’t want to put him on the spot in front of his colleagues. Some cops had nothing but disdain for PIs, and it was a relationship best kept on the down low.

Cristian threaded his way over to her, and they found a spot on a bench. He dropped his bag onto the rubber floor and pulled off his boots.

“Forget the cold, why are you playing hockey when you’re on a case?” Fina asked.

“It’s part of the community outreach thing. It’s only an hour, and Pitney catches hell if we don’t put in the time. It’s also a good way to blow off steam.”

Fina eyed the competition. “You’re blowing off steam playing against a ragtag group of neighborhood kids?”

“I meant the other cops.” Cristian forced his foot into a skate and tugged on the laces. “The teams are mixed.”

“Well, you’re a good man and a role model. I still don’t understand the appeal of a sport where you freeze your ass off.”

“Never mind that. I only have until the ice is clean.”

“All righty. Were there any signs of forced entry at Liz Barone’s house?”

Cristian paused his lacing efforts. “Hold on. I thought you were going to update me.”

“I am,” Fina said, “but I thought you could start.”

He shook his head, winding the laces around the small hooks at his ankle. “No, there were no signs of forced entry.”

“So either the door was unlocked, the perpetrator had a key, or Liz let the person in.”

“Jamie says that they always lock the door.”

“That rules out one option then. Did Jamie find her?”

“Yes. Luckily, the kids were at a neighbor’s house so they were spared.”

“Who has a copy of their house key?” Fina asked.

“When’s the part where you give me information?” Cristian asked, moving on to the other skate.

“So impatient. If you insist, I’ve spoken with Bobbi Barone, Jamie, Kelly Wegner, Tasha Beemis-Jones, and the attorney, Thatcher Kinney.”

“And?”

“And the attorney is clearly not the man for the job, but it’s not clear yet if the lawsuit had anything to do with the attack,” Fina said.

“That’s great, but you’re not telling me anything I don’t already know.”

“But I will, eventually. Maybe not today, but someday.” The Zamboni was turning the corner, making its final pass. “You got any alibis?” Fina asked.

“Nothing airtight. We need a few more suspects in the meantime.” Cristian tucked his shoes under the bench and zipped up his bag. He stood and bounced lightly on the skates. “What’s next on your agenda?”

“Gus Sibley and Kevin Lafferty.”

Cristian blinked at Kevin’s name.

“Oh, so maybe you don’t know everything,” Fina said.

“Enlighten me.”

“He’s a booster for NEU athletics, and he spent a lot of time hanging around the women’s soccer team back in the day.”

“Does he have a current relationship with Liz?”

“That’s not clear. Speaking of relationships, how’s Cindy?”

“She’s good.”

“Just good?”

“Just good.” He pulled on his oversized gloves.

“Well, I’m glad we’re going to the Disney thing. I feel like I haven’t seen you much recently, not since your dating life took off.”

Cristian frowned at her. “I don’t have that much time to begin with, you know that. It’s work and Matteo, mostly.”

“I understand,” Fina assured him. “I’m not complaining. I just miss hanging out.”

“Me too.”

Silence hung in the air between them.

“At least we’re working together again,” Fina offered, grinning.

“We do have that,” Cristian said.

“You act like you don’t approve of my methods, but secretly you think I’m a stellar investigator.”

“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he said. “See ya.”

He waddled over to the edge of the rink and stepped onto the ice. Fina hightailed it to her car and sat for a moment letting the hot air blow over her, reassessing her earlier conclusion: Even a little bit of Cristian was worth freezing her ass off.

—

F
ina decided to make a stop before heading home and pointed her car toward Newton. The MetroWest suburb was one of the wealthiest in the region, but it also had its share of ranch houses and Cape Cods. Fifty-six Wellspring Street was one of those ranch houses, with a tidy yard and a flagpole by the door that always held a season-appropriate flag. Fina pulled over in front of the house and swore at the sight that greeted her.

Once she was out of her car, she hollered at the man in the driveway. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Frank Gillis responded.

“It looks like you’re trying to have a heart attack!” Fina went over and took the shovel out of his hand. “First of all, you’re not supposed to be shoveling. Second of all, I don’t even understand
what
you’re shoveling. This is all going to melt in a day or two.”

“There was a little patch of ice, and I didn’t want the mail carrier to slip.”

“Stop worrying about everyone else.” Fina gently nudged him toward the front door, where she leaned the shovel against the house. “If Peg sees you doing this, she’ll kill you.”

Frank Gillis was the former Ludlow and Associates investigator who’d taught Fina everything she knew—except for the illegal stuff, which she’d learned on her own. Frank was her professional mentor, and he and his wife, Peg, were her second family. They filled the hole in her life created by Carl and Elaine’s lack of parenting skills.

Fina followed him into the house, where they deposited their outer layers before heading into the kitchen.

“Do you want some coffee?” Frank asked, pulling the pot from the coffeemaker and pouring himself a cup.

“No, thanks.” She reached into the fridge and grabbed a diet soda instead.

They walked into the family room, where Frank lowered himself into a recliner. Fina took a seat on the couch next to his chair.

“Seriously, didn’t the doctor tell you not to do any demanding manual labor?” she asked.