Loyalty (25 page)

“She’s a hooker who hangs out at Crystal. Haley knows her.”

“Huh?” Scotty looked at her, his features slack.

“When Melanie first went missing, I showed her picture around, and one of the regulars at Crystal recognized Haley, not Melanie.” Fina leaned forward and adjusted the air-conditioning vent so it pointed at her face. “This guy told me that Haley hung around with a hooker named Brianna. The dead girl.”

“So you talked to her?”

“A couple of times. I was trying to figure out what Haley was mixed up in, but Brianna claimed they were just friends.”

“How do you know Brianna was a hooker?”

Fina gave Scotty a look. “Trust me. I know.”

“What does this have to do with Melanie?”

“I don’t know, but in any case, Haley shouldn’t be BFFs with a hooker.”

“Agreed.” Scotty tipped his vents in Fina’s direction. “You gave her your card?”

“Yup. The same night I brought Haley over to your house.”

“Is that when you two argued?”

“It was more a discussion than an argument. I wanted to know who she worked for.”

“Did she tell you?”

“Nope.” They sat in silence for a moment. “It’s going to be a problem if Pitney tries to jam me up for this.”

“Trust me, it’s a nonstarter. Don’t give it another thought.”

“Is Rand out?”

“Last night,” Scotty said, nodding.

“I’ve got to talk to some people.” Fina reached for the door handle.

“Good luck,” Scotty said, and drove away after she slammed the door shut.

She watched him leave. She could feel a headache creeping across her skull, and she knew it would only get worse. That little fucker Dante Trimonti was due a visit.

“Your guy’s on the move,” Dennis told Fina when her cell rang an hour later.

“Where’s he headed?”

“South toward Quincy.”

“All right. Keep in touch.”

Fina went back to Nanny’s, took a long shower, changed her clothes, and got back on the road. Inertia was the enemy of any investigation. Doing nothing was never an option, even when Fina didn’t know exactly what to do, which is why she was heading back to Mode Accessories. Maybe it would be a dead end, but Melanie had that phone number for a reason, and more importantly, Fina didn’t have any better ideas. When she crossed the juncture of the Pike and 128, she dialed Donald Seymour and crossed her fingers that he worked on Saturdays. He answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Donald. It’s Amy Myers.” There was a pause, and Fina heard papers being shuffled in the background. “Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten about me,” she teased. “I represent that big accessories client.”

“Of course, Miss Myers. There’s no forgetting you.”

“Well, I just happen to be in the neighborhood and wondered if you were serious about that lunch offer.”

“Sure, sure,” Donald squeaked and then cleared his throat. “You mean today?”

“If you’re available.”

“That would be great. Do you have any place in mind?”

They settled on a chain restaurant close to the Mode Accessories office and planned on meeting in half an hour. Fina had some business to attend to before Donald showed up. First, she called Scotty and told him to call her cell in fifty minutes. He said he was too busy, but his assistant would do the honors. Once at the restaurant, she had a word with the hostess, who was only too happy to be of assistance in exchange for twenty bucks.

With ten minutes to spare, Fina took a seat on the bench that wrapped around the restaurant foyer and waited for Donald. He was seven minutes early.

Fina thrust out her hand and shook his hand firmly in an effort to reinforce the business nature of their relationship. She would do a lot of things for work, but she wouldn’t sleep with strangers. Well, at least not ugly strangers.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” Donald said once they were seated in a high-backed booth with oversize menus spread open before them.

“Just because things didn’t work out this time doesn’t mean we shouldn’t keep in touch,” Fina said. “A good network is essential to business success, don’t you agree?”

The waiter looked to be in his midtwenties and affectless; Fina wanted to suggest a course of antidepressants. He took their orders and returned a few minutes later with their drinks—a soda for Donald and a diet soda for Fina that was so large, she had to pee just looking at it.

Fina steered the conversation away from work and asked Donald a few questions about where he lived and how he spent his free time. It didn’t take long for the floodgates to open, thereby unleashing a monologue about the joys of home brewing. Fina liked beer as much as the next person, but she had never understood the appeal of home brewing. Why go to all that trouble for something she could easily buy? And the level of enthusiasm and commitment required? Clearly she was missing the zealous hobbyist gene.

But the conversation made Donald happy, which was the point. Their bacon cheeseburgers arrived, and the next few minutes were devoted to salt shaking, ketchup squeezing, and the like.

Fina’s phone chirped, and she made a face. “I just need to look,” she said, and she peeked at the screen. She saw that it was Scotty’s office and muted the ringer. Fina made a show of pressing a few buttons with exaggerated force. “This phone is making me crazy. Are you happy with your phone?” She put hers down and picked up the oversize, dripping burger.

“I love it,” Donald said between mouthfuls, and set down his burger. He wiped his fingers on a napkin and reached into his pocket.

“Oooh. You have one of those fancy ones,” Fina said admiringly when he pulled out one of the newest smartphones. “Do you mind if I take a look? I’m thinking of biting the bullet and getting one of these.”

“Be my guest,” Donald said, and keyed in the PIN. He handed the phone to her across the table. “It’s fantastic.”

Fina cooed appropriately and let him show off a few features. She was starting to tire of the charade when the hostess approached their table.

“Excuse me, Mr. Seymour?”

“Yes,” Donald said, popping a French fry into his mouth.

“There’s a phone call for you at the hostess stand.”

“There is?” Donald looked perplexed.

“Donald Seymour?” The hostess glanced at Fina.

“That’s me. I just don’t know who would be calling me here.”

“Did you tell the secretary where you would be?” Fina asked, praying the answer was yes.

“Yes, but I don’t know why she wouldn’t just call me on my cell.” He looked at his phone and started to reach for it. Fina held on to it and smiled. “Do you mind if I keep looking while you take that call? I want to try out the Web access.”

“Sure, sure,” Donald said, and pushed himself out of the booth.

Fina watched him walk away. Then she got to work.

She reached into her bag and pulled out a memory card that was compatible with Donald’s phone. She popped the phone open, pulled out his card, and slipped the fresh one into the slot. Fina peeked around the edge of the booth. She could see Donald and the hostess conferring. She selected his contacts list and downloaded it to the card. She’d made it through the letter
U
when she caught sight of Donald walking back across the restaurant. It would have to do. She swapped the cards back, slipped hers into her bag, and tapped on the Web icon on the screen.

“That was strange,” Donald said as he sat down.

“What’s that?” Fina asked, looking up from his phone.

“There was no one there. I called the office, and Jean claimed no one had called me.”

“That is strange. Tell me, do you work on commission for this cell company? I’m ready to sign up for one of these.” Fina giggled and handed the phone back to him.

“It’s great, isn’t it? I have access to so much info, wherever I am.”

“It’s amazing,” Fina agreed, and took another bite of her burger. The cheese was starting to congeal. She picked up a couple of French fries and dipped them in ketchup. “So does that help you with your brewing?” she asked, knowing that the combination of home brewing and a gadget might give Donald a hard-on right there at the table.

“Yes,” he said excitedly. “I have this app that . . .”

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

But after an hour and a $22.53 lunch tab, Fina had the
A
’s through the
U
’s.

She just had to hope that the president of Zyxco hadn’t named the company after himself.

“He went to Best Buy and the grocery store,” Dennis reported to Fina. She was sitting on the couch at Nanny’s wrapped in a towel, her hair still wet from the shower.

“That’s it?”

“And he stopped at an industrial park in Quincy. He popped inside for about ten minutes, then came back out and drove home.”

“What’s that all about? Do you know the place?”

“Nope, and there were no names on any of the vehicles. I did write down a few tag numbers. There was a gravel supplier just up the road, and the helpful secretary told me she knows the place as Ridleys.”

“Ridleys. Okay. Give me the tag numbers, and I’ll check them out.”

Dennis read off the numbers. “Do you want me to maintain surveillance?”

“Yup. Just send me the bill.”

Dennis chuckled. “Carl must be loving this.”

“Oh, he is,” Fina said.

She called her contact at the Registry of Motor Vehicles and put in a request for info on the license plate numbers that Dennis had provided. Her request was countered with a request for tickets to the Pats–Jets game in October. In Boston, sports tickets were the real ticket to information. The Ludlows had corporate boxes at all of the city’s professional sports arenas, but it was rare that any family members attended a game. She promised her contact tickets and hung up.

Fina heard a knock on the door, got up, and secured the towel around her naked body. She glimpsed through the peephole and saw a young woman with a brunette bob, a pale pink boatneck sweater, and pearls.

“Emma,” Fina said as she opened the door. “You look so Republican, as always.”

“And you look so naked,” the young woman commented as she stepped into the condo.

Emma Kirwan was ten years younger than Fina chronologically, but easily ten years older in terms of maturity and carriage. To the uninitiated, Emma looked like an upper-middle-class stay-at-home mom who favored shopping at conservative mall stores. She wore slacks and sweaters and pearls and loafers and probably cut the crusts off her grilled cheese sandwiches.

To the initiated, Emma was one of the top computer hackers on the East Coast, and despite her appearance, had no qualms about breaking the law. She was a peculiar mix; she regularly engaged in illegal activities, but would wrinkle her nose at
The Birth of Venus
. Her boob was showing, after all.

“Thanks for getting here so quickly,” Fina said. She’d left Emma a message before hopping in the shower.

“That’s why you pay me the big bucks.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Fina asked.

Emma looked at her. “I’d be more comfortable if you’d put some clothes on.”

“Oh for Pete’s sake, how does a felon get to be such a prude?”

“Those charges were dismissed,” Emma said, and strode into the living room. She ran her hand over the dining room table, apparently evaluating its cleanliness, and when she deemed it satisfactory, sat down and unpacked her laptop and a couple of phones. She pulled out a pair of horn-rimmed glasses and polished them with her sweater before putting them on. Everyone expected computer whizzes to be tattooed and grungy, but given younger generations’ general facility with technology, they were coming on the scene in all shapes and sizes.

“Fine. Wait a sec.” Fina went to the bedroom and pulled on a thong, bra, cutoff shorts, and a T-shirt. She pulled her hair into a loose bun and walked back into the living room. “I’m wearing a thong. Is that too scandalous for you?”

“It’s too much information.” Emma pushed her glasses up her nose. “What have you got?”

Fina handed the memory card to Emma. “I’ve copied a list of contacts from another phone. I didn’t get the whole thing, but I want you to download it and see if anybody looks interesting.”

“Interesting? You mean the usual?”

“Yup. Arrests, debts, deaths, any names you recognize. I’m trying to find a business owner’s name. The list is from an employee’s phone.”

Fina got on her other phone and left a message for Hal, her secret moneyman. She gave him the address of Ridleys and asked him to see what he could come up with. Despite the brief interludes of violence, a lot of Fina’s work consisted of sorting through information and waiting for some piece to rise up and take on new meaning. It was like looking at op art; it was usually when you were on the brink of giving up that the image revealed itself.

Fina went to the kitchen and stared at the inside of the fridge, searching for a snack. Emma interrupted her reverie. “Fina! Someone’s at the door.”

She closed the fridge door and grabbed a bag of Nutter Butters from the pantry. “Hi,” she said midmunch when she opened the front door to Cristian.

“Hey. Do you have a few minutes?” he asked.

“Sure.” She led him in and introduced him to Emma. Cristian said hello and raised an eyebrow to Fina.

“Can we go in the other room?” Cristian asked and gestured toward the bedroom.

Fina walked into the room and tossed her wet towel onto the floor. She kicked the duvet toward the foot of the bed and propped a pillow behind her back. Cristian sat down next to her.

“That AC feels really good,” he said.

“I told you that you’re welcome to crash here if your place gets too hot.”

Cristian grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled on it to generate some circulation. “We can’t find Bob Webber.”

Fina closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Fuck.”

“He’s not at home or at work. We checked his local hangout and some places in the neighborhood.”

“Have you checked his cards and his phone?”

“No. Pitney won’t go for it.”

“He’s a potential witness.” Fina tipped the bag of cookies toward Cristian. He shook his head. She put another in her mouth.

“To what? He may have seen your sister-in-law. So what?”

“So don’t you guys worry when a potential witness disappears?”

“It’s too early for it to be construed as a disappearance. He’s an adult. He can go wherever he wants.”

Fina rubbed her temples with her thumbs. “Fine.”

“If he had something to give us, we’ll just have to find it another way.”

“We?”

“We, as in the cops. We’re going to find out who killed Melanie. It’s just a matter of when.”

Fina shifted on the bed. “We both know that murders go unsolved all the time.”

Cristian ignored her comment and tipped his head toward the living room. “What’s Lois the Librarian working on out there? Something illegal?” he asked.

Fina smirked and ignored his second question. “Another lead. Despite appearances, I’m actually making progress.”

“Any new threats?”

“You mean other than the ones from your boss?”

“She didn’t threaten you,” Cristian said.

“Oh, come on. She dragged me in for questioning because my card was in Brianna’s pocket. Are you also checking Brianna’s dry cleaner and her manicurist?”

“Right—’cause you fall into the same category.”

Fina pulled another cookie out of the bag, then folded it closed and tossed it onto the floor. “No. No other threats.”

Cristian leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. “I know we’re usually on opposite sides, but this feels worse somehow.”

“Because it’s personal this time.”

“I don’t like it.”

“Neither do I.” Fina picked a hair off the sheet and dropped it onto the floor next to the bed. “It’s going to be over at some point. We just have to keep going.”

Cristian cracked his knuckles.

“Stop worrying,” Fina said. “Everything is going to be okay.” She smiled at him.

He looked at her. “Maybe . . .”

Cristian was proof that the most basic human urge was to believe in the possibility of a positive outcome. He knew better than most people that, oftentimes, things don’t turn out okay. But even he was willing to accept a blanket reassurance when he needed it.

Cristian squeezed her knee, stood up, and she walked him to the front door. “I’ll let you know if Bob Webber turns up,” he said.

“And I’ll let you know . . .” Fina’s eyes drifted to the windows. “. . . anything I can,” she said, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. She closed the door behind him, went into the bedroom, and changed into a blue sheath dress and high-heeled cork sandals.

Emma packed up to finish the job at her office, and Fina hopped in her car. It was time to shake some trees.

At Joe Winthrop’s apartment, Fina rang the bell and then walked back to her car, which was parked across the street. She leaned against the driver’s-side door and waited for Joe to peek out his window. When his face appeared a minute later, she smiled and waved and hung around for fifteen more minutes. Fina didn’t want him to know about his tail, which was sitting a few parking spaces down, but she did want him to know that he was still on her shit list.

Carl called when she was back on the road and told her to stop by the pool club. She could tell by the tightness of his voice he was in no mood to negotiate, so she got off the Pike and wound through the suburban streets. She parked near the garage that housed the golf carts.

The polo-shirted pool attendant waved her in, and she spotted Patty drying off Ryan near the shallow end. The other two boys were horsing around near the ladder. First, Teddy would hoist himself up one rung and then launch himself backward into the water. Chandler did it next and accompanied his dismount with a high-pitched holler.

“Out, you two,” Patty said, releasing Ryan from the towel. “Pap and Gammy are waiting.”

The boys climbed out, dried off, and gave Fina quick high fives before following their younger brother to the patio, where Elaine and Carl were sitting.

“You were summoned?” Patty asked as she hugged Fina.

“I should have known. A Ludlow show of strength.”

It made sense that Carl would summon the family to a high-profile gathering spot; one of the Ludlow family tenets was that you never backed down. You never hid in shame or kept a low profile regardless of what people were saying about you. Other people might stay at home when one of their family members had been arrested for murder, but not Carl’s family. This approach had been a source of embarrassment at various times during Fina’s youth; it was hard not to feel under fire when your father’s picture was splayed across the
Globe
for getting off a baby-shaking nanny in a civil trial, but there was an upside to Carl’s approach. If you go into hiding, eventually you have to come out. It’s easier to stay in plain sight.

Fina and Patty walked toward the patio, but were waylaid by Dr. Murray, who struggled up out of his lounge chair. He held his place in the newest John Irving book with one hand and extended the other to shake hands and say hello. A yelp from the Ludlow table prompted Patty to make a hasty retreat, and Fina and Dr. Murray were left looking at each other.

“I was very sorry to hear about your sister-in-law,” Dr. Murray said, and smiled a gentle smile, which made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

“Any progress in your investigation?”

Fina fiddled with a small, silver linked bracelet that tickled her wrist. “Some, but it’s been frustrating. Right up until the moment you solve a case, progress can be slow and hard to measure.”

“Ah. I think I know something about that,” Dr. Murray said.

“Except you never really solve things in your line of work, do you?”

“It’s more a matter of coming up with strategies and solutions, which is actually different from solving something.”

Fina looked over at her family. Carl was conversing with his grandsons while Elaine looked off into space. “Food for thought.” She smiled and nodded at Dr. Murray. “It’s nice to see you.”

“And you. Take care.”

Fina walked to the table and sat down. Scotty was at work, but Matthew was there, sipping a beer and ignoring Elaine’s needling about his romantic life.

“What were you and the good doctor discussing?” Carl asked. He rattled the ice cubes in his drink.

“Nothing in particular. Just exchanging pleasantries.” Fina met Carl’s gaze and held it until he looked away.

“I ordered you a salad,” Elaine informed Fina.

Fina looked at her mother with wonderment. “I don’t like salads. You know that.”