Brutality Page 4

  “Who knew about the potential lawsuit?” Fina asked.

  “Our family and at least one friend that I know of, Tasha Beemis-Jones.”

  The name was familiar, but Fina couldn’t place it. Her attempt to thumb through her mental Rolodex must have been evident, because Bobbi filled in the blank.

  “She’s an attorney, and her husband is a surgeon. Their picture is on the society page of the paper sometimes.”

  Fina’s brain clicked in recognition. “Oh, right. I think she works for Sims and Lancaster?”

  “I guess. Is that a big firm downtown?”

  Fina nodded. Tasha Beemis-Jones and Dwayne “D” Jones were one of the city’s African-American power couples. They were exceedingly attractive, smart, and well connected.

  “Are Liz and Tasha especially close? Is that why Liz confided in her?”

  “That, and they were soccer teammates at NEU.” Bobbi picked up the pickle and contemplated it for a moment before placing it back down on her plate.

  “Does Tasha have any cognitive health issues?”

  “Not that I know of.” Bobbi seemed like a decent person, but she must have wondered why her kid was suffering from MCI and someone else’s wasn’t. It was human nature to wonder why you drew the short straw.

  “I should definitely talk to Tasha,” Fina said. “Do you know the best way to reach her?”

  “I might be able to dig up her cell number, but her office is your best bet. I think I have it.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I can find it.”

  “You should try Kelly, also.”

  “Kelly?”

  “Kelly Wegner.”

  “Was she a teammate, too?”

  “Yes. They live a couple of streets from each other now, and their kids are close in age. Liz and Kelly see each other frequently—you know, carpools, birthday parties. They help each other out a lot.”

  It had started to snow. Large flakes floated by the windows, making Fina feel she was trapped in a large, dirty snow globe.

  “Any other friends come to mind?”

  Bobbi thought for a moment. “No. Most of Liz’s time was spent at work or with her family.”

  “Were any of Liz’s teammates going to join the suit?”

  “She hadn’t gotten that far, but she hoped they would.”

  “What about their neighbors?” Fina asked. “Is Liz friendly with any of them?”

  “She and Jamie get along with everyone. People are friendly, but at this time of year, there isn’t much social interaction. Sometimes Liz helped out the elderly woman across the street, Mrs. Barbatto.”

  “And Jamie?” Fina asked. “How are things with the two of them?”

  “Fine, I suppose. As stable as any couple with young children and demanding jobs,” Bobbi said, sipping her soda. “Those are stressful years.”

  “You probably don’t want to contemplate your son-in-law harming your daughter,” Fina ventured, “but the statistics are clear: Most violent crime victims know their attackers.”

  Bobbi looked her in the eye. “Make no mistake where my loyalty lies, Fina. If I find out that he or anyone else I know hurt her, I’ll want Massachusetts to bring back the death penalty.” She pushed her plate away. “But I don’t actually think Jamie would hurt her. He’s not a violent man.”

  “Okay. Did they fight much, or was either of them seeing other people?”

  “Like an affair? I don’t know when they’d find the time,” Bobbi said. “Liz works and is with the kids, and when Jamie isn’t working, he’s playing music.”

  “Right. I read about his band.” Fina tipped back the soda can to get the last drops. “Speaking of Liz’s work, can you tell me what she does exactly?”

  “You’ll have to speak with her boss to get the specifics, but she’s an administrator at a lab at NEU.”

  “Was she a science major?” Fina asked.

  Bobbi nodded. “She considered going into medicine, but decided that the time commitment and the expense were too great. I think it worked out, though. The job at the lab has reasonable hours, and administration suits her; she’s very organized.”

  “Does she like her job?” Fina asked.

  “She does, but it’s stressful. Their funding is always being cut, and the scientists, most of them are type A’s and can be difficult.”

  “Isn’t it awkward? Her suing her employer?”

  “I raised that with her, but Liz thought there was enough distance between the lab and the athletics department that she could compartmentalize her job from the case. She also didn’t feel she had a choice. She was growing desperate.”

  Fina jotted down some notes, and Bobbi glanced at her watch. “Is that enough for now?” she asked. “I really want to get back downstairs.”

  “Just one more question. Thatcher gave me some materials that Liz had given him, including some solicitations from the NEU development office. Did Liz mention them to you?”

  “Yes,” Bobbi said. “She was extremely upset that they were begging her for money.”

  “Do you know if she contacted them?”

  “I don’t know.” Bobbi’s head was tilted to the side, as if she was having difficulty staying upright. The poor woman was exhausted.

  “Thanks for taking the time.” Fina stowed her notebook. “I really want to speak with Jamie, but I understand that circumstances make that difficult.”

  “I’ve asked him to be in touch, but I don’t want to nag him.”

  “It’s okay,” Fina said. “You’ve given me other avenues to explore.”

  Bobbi deposited her tray onto a conveyor belt and they walked down the hallway to the elevator bank, which afforded a wide view of the Charles. All sorts of people in all sorts of medical uniforms were going about their business: janitors, orderlies, doctors, and nurses. Fina was glad that there were other people willing to perform all those jobs. She didn’t have the stomach or the courage to do what they did.

  The elevator doors opened, revealing a gurney and a handful of people. Fina held the door open with her hand and gestured for Bobbi to get on. “I’ll take the next one.”

  “Thank you, Fina,” Bobbi said, hugging her tightly before stepping into the car. The doors closed silently behind her.

  Good Lord. This was more maternal affection than Fina had experienced in the entire previous decade.

  —

  Fina wandered over to the windows and pulled her phone out of her bag, searching for Sims and Lancaster. The operator connected her to Tasha Beemis-Jones’s office, and the assistant told her that Ms. Beemis-Jones was in conference and would be for the remainder of the day. Fina made her pitch as an emissary of Bobbi’s and hoped that she wouldn’t have to make the plea too many times before she finally connected with Tasha.

  Her phone rang before she’d slipped it back into her bag.

  “I’m very stressed,” the voice on the other end of the line confessed.

  “What’s going on, Risa?” Fina asked.

  “I’m waiting to have some tests done, and I’m having second thoughts.”

  Fina wasn’t someone who surrounded herself with girlfriends, but Risa Paquette was a recent welcome addition to her inner circle. Although they’d grown up together, their friendship had really taken hold when both women stepped into the breach left by the death of Fina’s sister-in-law Melanie. Fina and Risa were committed to getting Fina’s niece, Haley, on the path to a less dysfunctional life. Most recently, they’d been grappling with Risa’s dysfunctional life, featuring a long-lost aunt who needed a kidney—Risa’s kidney. Fina had investigated her aunt and discovered that Fina’s impulse to protect her family extended to her friend.

  “You’re having the preliminary tests, right?” Fina asked. “That doesn’t commit you to donating your kidney to Greta.”

  “I know, but
I feel like every step I take down this road is going to make it harder to say no to her.”

  Fina pressed her hand against the window. It was ice-cold. “I understand, but you have to keep reminding yourself that you are not obligated to do this. You may not even be a match.”

  “I’m kind of hoping I’m not,” Risa confessed. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

  “Hardly. It makes you a human person. What are you having done today?”

  “Just blood work. Then I have to come back for an EKG, a chest X-ray, and some other stuff, depending upon the results.”

  “Risa, if you don’t want to do this, don’t.”

  There was a pause at the other end. “I do want to. I’m just having a moment of weakness.”

  “It’s not weakness. It’s indecision, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” Fina glanced at her watch. “Where are you?”

  “MGH.”

  “Hey, so am I! I’ll meet you. What time is your appointment?”

  “It’s in half an hour, but you have better things to do than hold my hand.”

  “Not really.”

  Risa hesitated. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. Let me distract you.”

  “That would be great. I’m in the transplant center on the eighth floor.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  Fina took the stairs up two flights and navigated her way past the nephrology and rheumatology departments. The transplant center was a study in contrasts: sickly, sallow patients amidst blush-colored walls and prints of flower arrangements by Monet and Matisse. Risa was the picture of health, seated by herself in a small grouping of chairs. She kissed Fina on the cheek and patted the chair next to her.

  “Now that you’re here,” Risa said, “this seems so silly.”

  “Maybe it seems silly because I’m here,” Fina suggested, picking up a copy of AARP magazine.

  “You’re probably right.” Risa leaned back in her chair and inspected her nails. They were short and polished in a nude shade. Risa was a superlative cook, and her hands were busy every day. It wasn’t digging ditches, but she definitely raised a finger.

  “My hair’s a little darker,” she said, twisting to give Fina a 360-degree view. “Do you like it?”

  Fina shrugged slightly. “Sorry I didn’t notice. You look great. You always look great.” In her midforties, Risa was very pretty, with short ashy brown hair and hazel eyes. She never looked overdone, but Fina supposed that required a lot of work.

  “Here,” Fina said, handing her a copy of Ranger Rick magazine. “Tell me something I don’t know about white terns.”

  “What do you know about white terns?”

  “Nothing. It’ll be easy.”

  Risa rolled her eyes and pulled out her phone instead.

  Fina turned to an article on knee replacement, and Risa scrolled through her e-mail. She was typing when her name was called.

  “Do you want me to go back with you?” Fina asked.

  “No, I’m okay.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Fina tossed aside the magazine and pulled her tablet from her bag. She ran a search on Liz’s sisters, Nicole and Dawn. There was one mention of Dawn in a newspaper article about an adult soccer league in Amherst. Nicole came up in links related to her employer, a Hartford-based advertising agency. Fina didn’t learn anything new from the search and soon found herself distracted by a news story about a woman who had been discovered dead in her home—eight years after she died. And people thought Fina was a loner.

  Risa reappeared ten minutes later. “I’m all done.” She stopped in front of Fina’s chair and pulled on her coat.

  “How was it?”

  “Easier than childbirth.”

  “Isn’t everything easier than childbirth?” Fina asked.

  “Yes, but it’s a good yardstick.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.” Fina slipped her tablet back into her bag and followed Risa to the elevator.

  “Now, how about you let me buy you a drink at the Liberty?” Risa asked. The Liberty Hotel was next door to the hospital, partly consisting of the former Charles Street Jail. Fina remembered when it was a jail and Buzzy’s Roast Beef was the only fine dining in the neighborhood.

  “I would love to, but I’ve got work to do,” Fina said. “A client of mine is a patient here.”

  “A rain check?” Risa asked.

  “Definitely.”

  The elevator doors opened, revealing two men, one of whom was glued to his phone.

  At the ICU floor, Fina gave Risa a hug before stepping off and holding the door open with her hand. “You’re going to be okay?”

  “Yes. Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem. Just remember: You’re not committed to anything.”

  The man without the phone shifted impatiently, which gave Fina the urge to perform a monologue from Hamlet.

  “Talk to you soon,” Risa said as Fina released the door.

  “Bye.”

  Fina walked to the ICU reception area hoping that Jamie was available. She was leaning against the desk pleading her case when he came down the hall, his posture slumped, his eyes trained on the floor. He looked startled when she called his name.

  “I don’t suppose you have ten minutes,” she asked.

  “No, not really.”

  “I don’t know if you’ve been getting home at all, but I could always stop by your house.”

  “I guess you could come by later, assuming nothing changes here.”

  “Why don’t I text you, and you can let me know what might work. I don’t want to disrupt your time with your kids.” But I do really want to talk to you, Fina thought.

  “Sure.” He rattled off his number.

  “Were you on your way out?” Fina asked, gesturing toward the automatic double doors.

  “In a minute,” he said. “Don’t wait for me.”

  Fina nodded. “I’ll try you later.”

  “Yeah.” Jamie stood at the desk and watched Fina leave.

  The more he put off their conversation, the more intrigued she became. Fina wasn’t sure why Jamie didn’t want to talk, but she’d get to the bottom of it. Avoiding her indefinitely wasn’t an option.

  —

  Kevin Lafferty wanted to patronize Hamlin’s shoe store, but their hours weren’t convenient for anyone who held down a job. He and Sheila had purchased the kids’ first baby shoes at the local store, and he knew the place was barely holding on, but who had time to shop for shoes in the middle of a weekday?

  So instead, he found himself in the aisle of a big-box sporting goods store on a Monday night, trying to make sense of rows upon rows of sneakers.

  “Robby! Casey! Stay with me, guys,” he called out to his young sons.

  Two smaller versions of Kevin came careening around the corner, nearly knocking over an end display of men’s basketball shoes.

  “Easy, guys. Don’t tear up the place.” He mussed the light brown hair on their heads and shooed them over to a bench in the middle of the aisle. “What size are you?”

  “How are we supposed to know?” five-year-old Casey inquired.

  “Well, pull off your sneakers and tell me what size those are. We know those are too small, so we’ll move up from there.”

  The boys each pulled off a shoe and examined the tongue.

  “I’m a one, Dad,” Robby, the eight-year-old, offered.

  “I don’t know what I am,” Casey moaned.

  “Robby, help your brother while I look for you.” He searched the stacks of boxes looking for size two.

  A woman came into the aisle trailed by a young boy. “Excuse me,” she said, squeezing past Kevin in the tight space.

  He returned her smile and watched her walk away. Not too shabby. Not too
shabby at all, he thought, admiring her slim body. Kevin hadn’t noticed if she was wearing a ring, but he knew that he only need follow her and strike up a conversation to get the ball rolling. Not that Kevin was looking, but he was well aware of the effect he had on women. He had light brown hair and bright blue eyes. His smile was easy and his teeth straight. Women responded to Kevin like a fighter to smelling salts.

  “Dad. Dad!” Robby interrupted his reverie. “Casey’s size eleven.”

  “Thanks, kiddo.” He reached up to grab a box off the top shelf. “Here’s your size, and these”—he dropped down to a squat and plucked another box—“these should work for Case.”

  Of course the shoes weren’t laced, so Kevin sat down and made quick work of them. At least that meant the boys would have practice tying them. There was a whole generation of kids being raised who had no idea how to tie a shoelace. It was ridiculous. Pretty soon they wouldn’t be able to read analog clocks anymore.

  Robby worked his feet into the shoes, but Casey needed Kevin’s help to pull his on.

  “What do you think?” Kevin asked as Robby ran up and down the aisle. Casey followed suit, never wanting to be left behind by his big brother.

  “I like them,” Robby said.

  “Come over and let me check your toes,” Kevin said. He reached down and depressed the end of the sneaker, checking that Robby’s toes weren’t too squished or swimming in the shoe. “I think that’s good. What about you, buddy?” he asked Casey.

  “They make me run superfast, Dad,” his youngest said, tearing by him.

  “The shoes don’t make you faster, dummy,” Robby remarked.

  “Hey, watch it. Don’t call your brother names. Say you’re sorry.”

  Robby looked down at his highly engineered sneakers. “Sorry,” he grumbled.

  “Let me take a look, Casey.” Kevin performed the same toe test on the boy and declared them a perfect fit. “Do you want to wear them out?”

  “Yes!” they exclaimed in unison.

  “All right. Let’s go pay.” Kevin boxed up their old shoes and tucked the boxes under his arm. He thought they should just be pitched in the trash, but he did that last time and Sheila was not happy. She wanted to keep the shoes for when it was wet or muddy, which seemed unnecessarily frugal to him. They did okay; why did they need to recycle smelly sneakers?