Brutality Page 11

  “I am crystal clear on that concept.” Fina sipped her drink. “May I go now?”

  “Is there anything else you want to tell us before you leave?”

  Fina studied the ceiling for a moment. “I think the Pats have a good chance in the playoffs.”

  “Go,” Pitney said, rotating out of her seat. “Before I have you arrested for criminal obnoxiousness.” She strode out of the room.

  Fina took a long drink and swallowed. “There’s something weird about Gus Sibley calling you guys. Our conversation really was benign.”

  “Apparently not to him.”

  “What a baby.”

  “Not everyone is as tough as you,” Cristian said.

  “Ain’t that the truth.” Fina rose from her chair, and Cristian followed her into the hallway. “Keep in touch.”

  “I know you will if I don’t,” he said, giving her a gentle nudge in the direction of the exit.

  —

  Bobbi Barone had left a tearful message on Fina’s voice mail. Fina was used to bearing witness to people’s misery, but generally it was after the fact, when she had the benefit of a little distance from whatever terrible event she was investigating. This time was different, and Fina tensed up when she listened to the message. She was witnessing the unfolding of Liz’s fate, and it was miserable to see, even though she didn’t know the woman. When she was hired to find a missing person or investigate a botched surgery or even look into a murder case, the worst had already transpired. Fina wasn’t convinced that the worst was over in this case, and the waiting and wondering added a whole new level of stress. She couldn’t imagine how Bobbi and Jamie were holding it together.

  Fina returned the call, and Bobbi suggested they meet at a pizza place a couple of blocks from the hospital. Fina was relieved to avoid the bright hallways and antiseptic smell of MGH, but felt guilty for even thinking such a thing. Bobbi had no choice but to return to that building.

  Bobbi was sitting at a round table in the back, nursing a coffee, when Fina arrived. Three other tables were occupied, one by a group of orderlies and the other by men and women in white coats. It was a casual place where you ordered at the counter and your name was called when your food was ready. A beefy young man behind the counter in a too-tight white T-shirt got her a diet soda. His hair was slicked back in a modified pompadour. It was an interesting choice for the early twenty-first century.

  “Do you want anything else, Bobbi?” Fina asked before he rang her up.

  “No, thank you.”

  The young man and Fina exchanged a look. Their proximity to the hospital suggested he was used to the medical population, both the staff and those related to patients. Bobbi’s hunched posture and sad face suggested her membership in the latter group. Fina gave him a tight smile and accepted her change.

  She brought her drink over to the table and set it down across from Bobbi’s mug of coffee.

  “Sorry I didn’t answer when you called,” Fina said. “I was talking to the police.”

  Bobbi’s head lifted slightly. “Any news?”

  “Nothing concrete, but I’m starting to annoy people. In my experience that means I’m making progress.” She sipped her drink. The nearby table of orderlies erupted in laughter. “How is Liz?”

  Bobbi opened her mouth to speak, but the only thing that came out was a small, strangled sound. It wasn’t even a cry, just the mangled suggestion of it. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Fina pulled some napkins out of the metal dispenser and handed them to her. She reached across the table and grasped Bobbi’s hand.

  “I am so, so sorry, Bobbi, and I know that is a woefully inadequate thing to say.”

  Bobbi just nodded and cried. Nobody in the place seemed to take notice, perhaps because they were used to displays of emotion.

  Bobbi cried silently for another minute, Fina clasping her hand. She didn’t say any of the platitudes she found to be obnoxious or insensitive that people often trot out on such occasions. Nobody wanted their loved one to be in “a better place.” They wanted their loved one sitting next to them, happy and healthy.

  Finally, Bobbi blew her nose and took a deep breath. “She’s still alive, but not really,” she said, gesturing toward the hospital. “She’s brain-dead.”

  Fina felt an ache in the pit of her stomach. “How is Jamie handling all this?”

  “He’s shell-shocked. He’s completely overwhelmed.”

  Fina nodded, but remained silent. She had lots of questions, but she knew that if Bobbi wanted to say more she would.

  “We have to make a decision,” Bobbi said after taking a deep breath.

  Fina looked at her. “That’s a horrible thing to have to do,” she said.

  “It is.”

  “Are you and Jamie on the same page?”

  “I think so, but it’s difficult having these conversations with him. I realize it would be difficult for anyone, but Jamie doesn’t generally take the bull by the horns.”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies.” The young man from the counter had appeared at their table. “But we have an extra order of our famous garlic bread, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” He placed it on the table in front of them. A strong garlic aroma tickled Fina’s nose. “And I brought you a fresh coffee and some water,” he said to Bobbi.

  “Oh, that’s so nice, thank you,” Bobbi said, patting her moist cheeks with a napkin.

  Fina looked at the guy, who was probably in his midtwenties, and felt a powerful urge to marry him or adopt him on the spot. She wasn’t sure which one, but she knew he was a keeper. “That’s very sweet. Thank you very much,” she said, giving him an appreciative smile.

  “My pleasure,” he said, returning to his post behind the counter.

  “It does smell good,” Fina said, pushing the plate in Bobbi’s direction.

  Bobbi picked up a piece and took a bite. She chewed it thoughtfully before taking another.

  Fina took a piece for herself and marveled at the restorative powers of butter, cheese, and garlic. She and Bobbi sat eating quietly for a few minutes.

  “Do you want specifics about what I’m working on?” Fina finally asked. “Or do you prefer I wait until I have something significant?”

  “I don’t need specifics right now. Jamie and I need to figure this out, but maybe after . . .” Bobbi trailed off.

  “That’s fine. Just let me know.”

  There was a gust of cold wind as the door opened, and Jamie walked into the pizza shop.

  “Bobbi,” he called over to her. “The kids are here with Mrs. Sandraham.”

  Bobbi looked up. “I’ve got to go, Fina. We’re doing a handoff. We don’t want the kids to spend too much time without either one of us.”

  “Of course.”

  Bobbi rose and gathered her belongings before coming around the table to give Fina a hug. Fina gave her an extra-tight squeeze to make up for her loss of words.

  Jamie and Bobbi exchanged a few words before Jamie came over to the table. Fina really didn’t know what to say to him; end-of-life decisions were intensely private, and she didn’t presume that he wanted to discuss it with her.

  “I’m heading over to the hospital,” he said.

  “Right. I was just touching base with Bobbi.” Fina sat back down, but Jamie remained standing. “She told me about Liz’s condition. I’m sorry.”

  He nodded. Really, what was there to say?

  “Have you found something out?” he asked.

  “There haven’t been any major developments,” Fina said, “if that’s what you mean. I’ve been talking to a lot of people, which may not seem like much, but it’s important.”

  “Who have you been talking to?”

  “Kelly Wegner, Kevin Lafferty, Tasha, Gus Sibley. The development officer at NEU, Pamela Fordyce.”

  Jamie pursed his lips
at one of the names on the list, but Fina couldn’t be sure who had elicited the reaction.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “What?”

  “You just reacted to one of those names.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said.

  “Jamie.” Fina pulled off part of the garlic bread. “Don’t try to bullshit a bullshitter. Sit down for a minute and tell me what’s going on.” She popped the morsel of bread into her mouth.

  He hesitated.

  “Talking to me is a concrete way to improve this horrible situation,” Fina said.

  Jamie considered this before dropping into the chair that Bobbi had vacated.

  “So who on that list bugs you?” Fina asked.

  He massaged the back of his neck with his hand before answering. “Kevin Lafferty.”

  “I didn’t realize you knew Kevin Lafferty.”

  “Not well, but I don’t like him.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think he’s slimy.”

  “He’s definitely a smooth operator, but what makes you so sure he’s a bad guy?”

  Jamie shook his head. “I don’t know, I just don’t like him. I think the whole booster thing is weird.”

  Fina shrugged. “I agree, but people have all kinds of hobbies. It’s not that different than people who are passionate fans of a pro sports team.”

  “Yeah, well, I don’t understand that, either.”

  “Some people might not understand your love of music and the sacrifices you were willing to make to play.”

  Jamie was silent.

  Fina took a deep breath. This was like pulling teeth. “That can’t be the only reason he rubs you the wrong way.”

  He lightly kicked at the empty chair next to him with the thick toe of his boot. “He had a thing for Liz,” he said a moment later.

  “What makes you say that?” Fina chewed another bite of garlic bread and washed it down with a pull of diet soda.

  “Any time they saw each other, he flirted with her. He called her a couple of times, but she acted like it was no big deal.”

  “This was recently? He called her recently?” Fina asked.

  “A month or so ago.”

  “Did she say what the calls were about?”

  “Something about the NEU soccer program,” Jamie said, “but she never said more than that.”

  “So, what? You think they were having an affair?”

  “I don’t know,” he snapped. “What would you think in my position?”

  “Fair enough,” Fina said.

  “I need to go.”

  “Wait, one more thing. Why didn’t you identify Kevin when I showed you the old NEU newspapers?”

  Jamie picked at the skin around his thumb before answering. “I didn’t recognize him,” he said. He stood, and she watched as he swayed ever so slightly, reaching for the back of the chair to steady himself.

  “Are you okay?” Fina asked. “Maybe you should sit down again.”

  “I’m exhausted. That’s all.”

  He left Fina at the table to contemplate his claim that he hadn’t recognized Kevin. She found it hard to believe, but maybe he genuinely was too distracted at that moment, or maybe he was too embarrassed at the prospect of his wife and Kevin being involved.

  Fina pitched her can in the recycling bin and placed the empty plate and mug on the counter. She reached into her wallet and pulled out twenty bucks, which she slid toward the young man.

  “Thank you,” she said. “That was very kind.”

  He slid the bill back in her direction. “On the house.”

  “If you insist,” Fina said, depositing the money in the tip jar.

  Outside, she jogged to the parking lot as the frigid wind sought out every available inch of exposed skin. She was dismayed to think that Jamie wasn’t being up front with her, but she could cut him some slack, given that his life was falling apart.

  But Kevin Lafferty?

  There was no excuse for the lies he’d told her.

  9.

  Fina searched the NEU website and found the address for Liz’s workplace, the Schaefer Lab of Environmental and Chemical Engineering. She also learned that the director of the lab—presumably Liz’s boss—was Dr. Vikram Mehra. She located the lab on the map and navigated her way to the nearest parking garage.

  Fina never felt bad about racking up expenses when she was on a case for Carl, but this case was different. She cringed every time she paid for parking or contemplated Emma’s exorbitant fee. Bobbi Barone didn’t strike Fina as living high off the hog, and these expenses added up. Perhaps Carl would have to subsidize the case—unbeknownst to him, of course.

  Fina pulled into the garage and locked her gun in the trunk. She had a permit to carry a concealed weapon, but she knew it would cause a brouhaha if she had to go through a metal detector. Her gun was probably the least dangerous thing in the lab.

  “I’m here to see Dr. Mehra,” she told the security guard behind the desk in the lobby.

  “Who are you?” He was a black man with heavy-lidded eyes. He did a visual inventory of her, a slow and exhaustive process.

  “I’m a private investigator.” She held up her license for his inspection. “I’ve been hired by Liz Barone’s family.”

  The man made a phone call, which Fina couldn’t overhear despite her best efforts.

  “Dr. Mehra is unavailable. You’re welcome to try back in an hour.”

  Fina looked around the lobby. “Is there any place I can sit and wait?”

  He stared at her. “No.”

  “No?”

  “There is a coffee shop around the corner. I imagine you would be welcome there.”

  “All righty then. I’ll be back.”

  Fina understood that they might not want people hanging around in a lab building for security reasons, but he could have been a little more chipper.

  She found the aforementioned coffee shop and bought a hot chocolate, which she nursed while she caught up on e-mails. An hour and fifteen minutes later, she walked back to the lab, hoping her luck had changed.

  “I’m back,” she said, handing him her license.

  “Hmm. Well, aren’t we the lucky ones,” he said.

  “Well, I think so, but I’m biased,” Fina responded.

  He picked up the phone and had another hushed conversation. He replaced the receiver and keyed her information into the computer.

  Fina glanced at the name tag on his navy blue blazer. “Louis, can I ask you a question?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “You don’t have to answer, I suppose.”

  He kept typing, but didn’t respond.

  “As I mentioned an hour and fifteen minutes ago, I’m investigating the attack on Liz Barone. Did you know her?”

  “I know everyone who works here,” he said.

  “So you’d know if someone wanted to hurt her.”

  He raised his lids and studied her. “I don’t know their personal business.”

  Fina leaned her elbows on the counter separating them. “Oh, come on. You see everyone who goes in and out of this place. You know who’s sneaking out early, and I bet you know who’s fraternizing when they shouldn’t be.”

  Louis shook his head. “I know nothing.”

  “What’s Dr. Mehra like?” Fina asked.

  “You are quite the chatterbox,” he said, placing a visitor’s ID badge in front of her.

  “Liz is in critical condition. If you know anything that could shed some light on the situation, I know her family would appreciate it.”

  “Through the metal detector, take the elevator to the eighth floor.” He gestured toward the elevator bank.

  “Let’s stay in touch,” Fina said, slipping her card toward him.

  Louis pic
ked it up and deposited it in the trash can by his feet.

  “Oh come on, Louis. Humor me!” She grinned and walked through the metal detector.

  —

  Fina’s boots squeaked on the shiny linoleum of the eighth floor. She followed a sign to the Schaefer Lab and found a small grouping of desks in an open area halfway down the hallway. Three were unoccupied, but a young woman in a lab coat was seated at the fourth.

  “I’m looking for Dr. Mehra’s office,” Fina said.

  “Last door on the right,” she answered.

  “Thanks.” Fina continued down the hallway and stopped at the last door, which was ajar. A man was seated with his back to the door, studying something on his computer at a workstation. Fina knocked and poked her head in.

  “Dr. Mehra?”

  “Yes, come in.” He rotated his chair around so he was facing his desk and the doorway.

  “I’m Fina Ludlow. I’m a private investigator.” She walked to his desk and extended her hand. He looked at her blankly, then shook it. His skin was cool and dry.

  “May I sit down?” Fina asked when an invitation was not forthcoming.

  Vikram gestured at one of the chairs in front of his desk.

  The office was tidy, but lacked any warmth or personality. Most of the surfaces were bare, and the floor was clear of boxes and piles. Magazine files, each neatly labeled, filled the open shelving units. There was a coffee mug on the desk and one framed photo showing Vikram, a woman, and two teenage children; no one was smiling. The window overlooked roofs of smaller buildings, and the sill held two potted succulents.

  “I was wondering if you could provide some information,” Fina asked.

  Vikram tilted his head and opened his mouth in an expression that brought to mind the wolf in Little Red Riding Hood. His white teeth glimmered against his skin. “First, I’d like to hear exactly who you are and why you’re here,” he said.

  “Of course.” It was a simple and legitimate request, and Fina was always surprised by how infrequently it was made of her. She wouldn’t always be transparent, but there was a greater chance she would be if only people asked.

  “As I said, my name is Fina Ludlow. I’m a private investigator, and Liz Barone’s family has hired me to investigate the attack she sustained.”