Brutality Page 2

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Jamie,” Bobbi said.

  “I know you want to do whatever you can, but I don’t see how hiring her”—he gestured at Fina—“is going to help.”

  “I don’t expect you to pay for it,” Bobbi said, a touch of irritation creeping into her voice.

  “That’s not what I meant,” Jamie said.

  Fina knew that some people didn’t like the idea of an investigator snooping into their lives. Some people were more private than others, and then there was the group that actually had something to hide. Fina wondered which category Jamie occupied.

  “I want to get back to Liz.” He rose from his seat. “Do what you think is best,” he said to his mother-in-law before leaving the room.

  The two women sat in silence for a moment.

  “I’m sorry,” Bobbi said. “We’re under a lot of stress, and clearly, he doesn’t want to hire you.”

  “Why is that, do you think?” Fina asked.

  Bobbi tipped her head back and studied the ceiling. “Jamie tends to take the path of least resistance in life. Right now he doesn’t have the energy or the emotional resources to do more than sit by Liz’s bedside.”

  “But you do? You still want me to investigate?”

  She met Fina’s gaze. “Absolutely. She’s my child. I’d do anything for her.”

  “What about Liz’s father? Is he in the picture?”

  “My husband died five years ago. Thank God for small favors; this would have killed him.”

  Fina stashed her notebook in her bag and pulled out her business card. “Do you have an e-mail address?” Bobbi nodded. “I’ll send you my rate information, and I’ll get started as soon as you say the word,” Fina said.

  Bobbi folded her hand around the card as if it were a talisman.

  “I’ll want to speak with you again—and Jamie. I’ll try not to irritate him too much.”

  “Good luck with that,” Bobbi murmured.

  “I’ll also need the contact info for the attorney Liz was working with. He’ll be a good place to start.”

  “He’s in Natick. Thatcher Kinney.” She laced her hands together. “You don’t think I’m wrong about the lawsuit being an issue?”

  Fina stood. “I don’t know, but it represents a change in your daughter’s routine and contacts. It would be foolish to dismiss it without taking a closer look.”

  “Thank you.” Bobbi stood and gave Fina a hug. It wasn’t the usual way her meetings ended, but this was an unusual circumstance. Bobbi Barone needed a hug, and Fina was happy to oblige.

  “Hang in there,” Fina said after pulling away.

  “I am. By a thread.”

  In the hallway, Fina headed for the exit, and Bobbi went in the opposite direction, presumably toward her daughter’s room. Fina hit the button that unsealed the hermetically sealed unit and took a deep breath once the doors closed behind her. That medical purgatory gave her the creeps.

  —

  While most of Fina’s caseload came directly from Ludlow and Associates, occasionally she tried to throw in a job independent of the firm. There were a few reasons she might seek out other work: a case was interesting on its own merits; a case offered a potential payoff for Ludlow and Associates down the road; Fina felt like pissing off her father and asserting her independence. Liz Barone’s case hit all three of these marks, though Fina would emphasize the potential payoff when selling it to her father.

  Ludlow and Associates was located on the forty-eighth floor of the Prudential Tower. Carl had started the firm not long out of law school and built it into not only a family business, but one of the most successful personal injury firms in the country. All four of the Ludlow children had followed Carl’s footsteps to law school, with varying degrees of success. Rand, the eldest, was a successful lawyer whose recent bad behavior had landed him in a family-enforced exile in Miami. Her other brothers, Scotty and Matthew, were partners in the family firm, but Fina hadn’t made it past the first semester of law school. Instead, she found her niche as the firm’s investigator. It was a competitive, lucrative, and sometimes distasteful line of work, but it was theirs, and they were good at it.

  Fina breezed past the security guard at the front desk and wound through the hallways to her father’s office. Since it was Saturday, his assistant wasn’t in, and Fina strode directly into his office. It wasn’t as much fun when she didn’t have to evade his gatekeeper.

  Her father was seated behind his desk, his brows knit together as he studied his computer screen.

  “Look at these,” he commanded his daughter.

  “You know, Dad, other people say ‘hello’ and ‘please.’”

  “You’re lecturing me on manners?”

  Fina walked behind her father. She leaned over his shoulder and looked at the screen. It was odd being in such close physical proximity to him. Her parents weren’t huggers. In fact, Fina couldn’t remember the last time she and her father had embraced.

  “What am I looking at?”

  “Your mother’s birthday gift.”

  “Don’t you think you should ask Patty?” she said, referring to Scotty’s wife. “She has a better eye for these sorts of things.”

  “I don’t have time for that.”

  Fina scanned the bracelets on the Tiffany website. Her relationship with her mother was difficult, at best. In Fina’s estimation, coal was always the perfect gift for Elaine.

  “She likes blue,” Fina noted, pointing at a delicate bracelet of diamonds and sapphires.

  Carl grunted. “It’s a little understated for your mother.”

  Fina reached for the mouse and scrolled down the page. She inhaled her father’s cologne, crisp and faintly woodsy. Carl was a handsome man who put a lot of effort into his appearance. He was trim, with a muscular upper body and thick dark gray hair that was developing some flecks of white. Carl was also charismatic. He had a “take no prisoners” attitude people found immensely appealing. Most people wanted to believe that someone, somewhere, was in charge.

  Fina bypassed all the tasteful, elegant options and clicked on a chunky diamond bracelet interspersed with gold Xs. “That looks like something she’d wear.” She stood back and took in the astronomical price. “But doesn’t she have a diamond bracelet already, Dad?”

  Carl clicked on the purchase button and directed her back around the desk. “She has a few, but she can never have too many. So what’s going on?”

  Fina sat down in the chair across from him. “I’ve got a potential case that I thought might be of interest to you.”

  He frowned. “Not one of our clients?”

  “No, but there may be something in it for us.”

  “Go on.”

  “Have you heard about the woman who was attacked in her Hyde Park home this past Thursday?”

  “It’s vaguely familiar.”

  “Well, her name is Liz Barone, and I just met with her mom and husband at MGH. Liz is in the ICU.”

  “That sounds like a criminal matter,” he said. “Nothing to do with us.”

  “Just wait,” Fina said, rising and walking over to the small but well-stocked bar on the other side of the room. She pulled a diet soda from the fridge and returned to her seat. “She was working with an attorney before she was attacked. She was planning to sue New England University.”

  “For what?” Carl’s eyes flicked from his phone to her, his curiosity piqued.

  “She played on their soccer team twenty years ago and has since been diagnosed with MCI.”

  “Concussions?”

  “Bingo.”

  Carl tapped his fingers on his leather blotter. “Who’s representing her now?”

  “A guy named Thatcher Kinney in Natick, but I gather that her mom isn’t happy with the job he’s done.”

  “Never heard of him,” her f
ather said, indicating that Thatcher Kinney couldn’t possibly be important if he wasn’t on his radar screen. “Does the mom think the attack is linked to the lawsuit?”

  “She doesn’t know, but she wants someone to investigate, independent of the cops.”

  “She doesn’t trust the cops?”

  Fina shrugged. “She does, but she’s doing anything she can to help her daughter. I think she wants to feel useful.”

  “Why’d they contact you?”

  “Because I’m the best.” Fina pulled out her elastic and gathered her hair into a tidier ponytail.

  Carl gave her a withering look.

  “And because of all the press from the Reardon case,” she admitted. Fina’s most recent case had involved the murder of a prominent Boston businessman. The case generated a lot of press, and Fina and the firm got their share of ink.

  “And why would I want you to spend time on this?” her father asked. Carl liked to do this. He liked to make you state your case and win the argument, even if the argument was obvious and he’d already been convinced.

  “Because if I figure out who attacked Liz Barone, her family will be eternally grateful, thereby wanting us to represent them in the case against NEU. A case that has potential to be huge, given all the athletes who are reporting cognitive issues due to sports injuries.”

  “What about the husband? You haven’t said much about him.”

  “He seems reluctant to have me involved, which is peachy as far as I’m concerned. Maybe he did it, and I can wrap this thing up pronto.”

  Carl considered her for a moment. “Fine. Take the case, but I still may need you for something else.”

  Fina rose from her chair. “Of course, Father.”

  “Smart-ass,” Carl murmured as she turned to leave.

  She smiled. That was practically a term of endearment in the Ludlow family.

  2.

  Fina was feeling weary and sore, which could be partially attributed to the previous day’s sledding excursion, but which she also chalked up to a general winter malaise. Everything was harder in winter, especially a snowy winter. You couldn’t just walk down the sidewalk or pop out to the store for something. Every movement required more energy and attention, and it added up at the end of the day. Fina understood the wisdom of hibernation given the current conditions. Home was where she wanted to be.

  For almost a year, Fina had been living in her late grandmother’s condo overlooking Boston Harbor. Carl had originally purchased the condo to keep his mother and wife out of each other’s hair, and Nanny had loved the prime location her perch provided for plane-spotting at Logan Airport. Before Carl could contemplate selling it after Nanny’s death, Fina had moved in. She and Nanny had always been thick as thieves, and she knew her grandmother wouldn’t mind. It had been suggested to Fina that she might want to update the décor, which smacked of old lady, but she couldn’t be bothered. As long as she had a comfortable couch and a sizable TV, she was good. And the décor wasn’t the first thing that visitors noticed, anyway; it was the view. And then the clothes, files, books, and magazines that Fina left strewn about the space.

  She took a hot bath and pulled on sweats before checking her e-mail. Bobbi Barone had already responded to the e-mail Fina had sent from Ludlow and Associates detailing her rates. Bobbi wanted to proceed, so Fina named a new folder on her desktop and opened a Word document. She contemplated the blank page for a moment, then wandered into the kitchen. A leftover container of pad thai appealed, as did a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Karamel Sutra. Decisions, decisions. Fina grabbed the pad thai and a pair of chopsticks, feeling virtuous.

  In the living room, she plopped down onto Nanny’s overstuffed blue velvet couch and scooped up a mouthful of peanutty noodles. She chewed, then reached for her phone.

  “Menendez,” Cristian answered after the first ring.

  “Hey. What are you up to?” Fina asked before taking another bite.

  “I’m interviewing a man who believes that he can talk to God through his espresso machine.”

  “Huh. That’s too bad.”

  “It is.”

  “I can barely get my coffeemaker to make a cup of coffee, let alone deliver a message from our Lord.”

  “If our Lord ever starts communicating through appliances,” Cristian said, “I assure you, he won’t start with yours.”

  “So cynical.”

  Fina could hear phones ringing in the background, and the rise and fall of conversations. She didn’t know how Cristian ever got anything done in the squad room, which seemed more like a three-ring circus than a place of work.

  “So I wanted to give you a heads-up.” She plucked a shrimp from the container and dropped it into her mouth.

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Cristian said.

  “I can’t win with you.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Well, I don’t think you’re going to like it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Bobbi Barone has hired me to investigate her daughter’s attack.”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Why?”

  “Not because she thinks you’re incompetent,” Fina rushed to explain, “but because she’s worried that you guys can’t devote the necessary time to the case. Why are you on the case, anyway? You usually do more high-profile stuff.”

  “This is high profile. The mayor recently launched his Home Safe Initiative, and less than thirty days in, a woman gets clobbered in her kitchen—her kitchen in her family-friendly neighborhood.”

  “Got it. I think Bobbi just wants to feel like she’s doing something, and hiring me fits the bill.”

  “You should just join the BPD,” Cristian suggested. “Then you and I and Pitney could work together officially. Oh, wait. That’s right. They’d never let you in.”

  Fina laughed. “That’s me, harboring a fantasy to work for the man.”

  “So what do you want from me?” he asked.

  “This really was a courtesy call, but now that you mention it, if you have anything to give me, I would be most appreciative.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I’m sure I could give you something in return,” Fina said.

  They were quiet as they mulled over the options. Sexual favors were out given Cristian’s current interest in a speech pathologist named Cindy. Fina had recently suggested that Cristian find a hobby other than obsessing about his ex-wife’s love life. Bolstering his own love life, however, was not what she’d had in mind.

  “How about Bruins tickets for you and Matteo?” she asked. The Ludlows had boxes at Fenway, Gillette Stadium, and the Boston Garden—she didn’t care what anyone said, it would always be the Boston Garden to her even if some new corporate sponsor bought it tomorrow—and distributed tickets as thank-you gifts and bribes.

  “He’s three and a half. I don’t want to take him to a hockey game.” Cristian murmured thanks to someone.

  “Well, how about Disney on Ice? That show is like a bad penny; it keeps turning up,” she said.

  “Admit it. You loved it when we took him last summer.”

  Fina had scored tickets months earlier and accompanied them to a show that was heavy on Beauty and the Beast. She spent most of the performance worrying about the physics related to the Beast’s enormous head and those skinny blades.

  “That show was beyond ridiculous, but I did like watching Teo have a good time,” Fina said.

  “Well, get on the horn to Goofy,” he said, “and I’ll let you know if anything comes up.”

  “And you’ll soften the blow with Pitney?”

  Cristian scoffed. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I can ask,” Fina replied.

  Fina sent an e-mail to Scotty’s secretary—for some reason Carl’s assistant wasn’t very helpful, perhaps because Fin
a paid no attention to her—inquiring about Disney dates at the Garden.

  She dropped the empty takeout container in the kitchen trash and grabbed a spoon and the Karamel Sutra. Back on the couch, she typed “Liz Barone” into a search engine. There was nothing revelatory in the results. The most recent links were related to the attack, and the handful of others referenced her work at an NEU lab or her involvement in soccer. Fina narrowed her focus; there was a lot you could find out online if you knew where to look. After an hour, Fina had determined that Liz had never been arrested nor had she ever been involved in a civil suit. Her driving record was clean, and she and her husband had purchased their Hyde Park house seven years earlier.

  Fina had to wonder: If Liz Barone was such an upstanding citizen and a contributing member of society, why would someone shove her head into a kitchen counter?

  —

  Fina wanted to speak with Jamie and Bobbi again before diving into the case, but they were both unavailable on Sunday. Liz was undergoing a battery of tests, and her mother and husband wanted to stay close throughout the day. Bobbi promised to call Fina on Monday when they had a free moment, and in the meantime gave her the contact information for Thatcher Kinney. Given that he was a small-town lawyer, Thatcher Kinney wasn’t even answering his phone on Sunday, let alone scheduling meetings.

  It was hard to get work done on a Sunday, and Fina supposed if the Lord was allowed to rest, then so was she. Perhaps she took it a little far by not showering, dressing, or leaving the condo, but by Monday morning, she was ready to jump into the case.

  Savvy and powerful people often went out of their way to avoid speaking with a private investigator, which was why Fina was a fan of dropping by unannounced and planting herself in their waiting rooms. But if an interviewee didn’t fall into the savvy and powerful category, it was often better to schedule an appointment. The effort of calling ahead would be misconstrued as respect, and the subject wouldn’t know better than to agree to the meeting. It was a win-win as far as Fina was concerned, so she called Thatcher Kinney first thing on Monday and was told by his sunny secretary that he could see her at eleven A.M.