Identity (27 page)

They focused on their food for a moment, but then Fina put down her chopsticks. “I’m starting to feel like a broken record; if you guys are lying to the police, you’re playing with fire. You need to tell me or Scotty, and we’ll help minimize the damage.”

Rosie and Tyler looked at each other. Fina studied them, but their expressions didn’t give anything away.

Fina speared a piece of sweet-and-sour pork on a chopstick and bit into it. Rosie and Tyler ate in silence.

“How are things with your mom?” Fina asked Rosie.

“We’re kind of steering clear of each other.”

“That’s probably a good idea until things cool down a bit.”

“When will that be? When I’m thirty?”

“Maybe, maybe not. It may be a lifelong strategy that you choose to
adopt.” Fina struggled to pick up some errant grains of rice with her chopsticks. “What about Alexa? Does she get along with your mom?”

Rosie rolled her eyes. “She’s a little kiss-ass.”

“It probably won’t last,” Fina said. “Just wait until she’s a teenager.” Fina had to wonder if being so eager to please was part of the motivation behind Alexa’s reclaimed memory of the night of Hank’s death. It was a natural instinct, after all, to lie to protect one’s parent.

“I hope so,” Rosie said. “It’s going to piss me off if she ends up getting everything I had to fight for. The oldest kids always have it the hardest.”

“Bullshit,” Tyler interrupted. “My mother’s a lot clingier with me than she was with Jess. The youngest is their last hope. Once you leave the nest, it’s downhill from there.”

Fina picked up a cube of pineapple. “You’re both kidding yourselves. Renata and Marnie have a lot going on; they’re going to rejoice when you guys leave the nest for good.”

Tyler leaned back in his seat. “I don’t buy it. My mom will be totally bummed.” He grinned.

“You just keep telling yourself that, Tyler.” Fina smiled and reached for the bill when it was deposited on the table. “My treat.”

Rosie and Tyler expressed their thanks. Fina dropped some bills on the table and followed them out into the bright sunshine.

“Do either of you know a kid named Brett Linder?” she asked as they started down the sidewalk.

Tyler shook his head. “Never heard of him.”

“Me either,” Rosie said.

“Well, if his name rings any bells, call me.” She walked around to the driver’s side of her car. “Or if you decide to tell me the truth, call me. Or if you need legal counsel, call me.”

“We get it!” Rosie hollered from a few cars away. “We’ll call you!”

“Glad to hear it!” Fina replied, ducking into her car. She started the engine but sat for a moment, provoking an angry horn blast from a car waiting for her space. She watched Rosie and Tyler pause on the
sidewalk. Their conversation was heavy with gestures, and although Fina couldn’t tell what they were talking about, she doubted it was the beef with black bean sauce.

Fina got Emma Kirwan on the phone as she drove down Mass Ave. Emma Kirwan, her go-to computer whiz, was in her twenties, conservative and uptight yet incongruously good at breaking the law. Fina thought she looked like a right-wing soccer mom, but in Emma’s case, looks were incredibly deceiving. Whenever she needed a deep search done that extended beyond financials and the law, Fina called Emma.

“How hard is it to get the info from E-Z Pass cameras?”

“What do you mean?”

“If I want the statement for a particular vehicle, how hard is that?”

“Not your vehicle?”

“Of course not my vehicle!”

“All right. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

“I want to find out the movements of a particular car on a particular night.”

“Well, it’s not easy, obviously, and it’s not exactly legal.”

“But is it doable?”

“Of course it’s doable.”

“Good. I’ll e-mail you the tag number as soon as I get it.”

“It’ll cost you,” Emma said.

“It always does.”

Fina called her contact at the Registry and put in a request for a tag number. This, too, would cost her money and time, but she’d learned to go with her hunches. Sometimes, they were the only thing she had.

•   •   •

Marnie Frasier agreed to meet Fina after work to answer a few questions. Fina offered to stop by the house, but Marnie gave her the name of a hotel bar in Cambridge instead. When Fina arrived, Marnie was sitting at a small round table in the corner, glancing at the newspaper.

“Am I late?” Fina asked, taking a seat.

“No, I was a few minutes early. I haven’t ordered yet.”

A man came over with a bowl of mixed nuts and the wine list. Marnie picked up the list after he’d walked away, and Fina dipped her hand into the bowl.

“Oh, they’re warm,” she said, indicating the nuts. She popped some in her mouth. “That’s so good.”

Marnie reached over and grabbed some. “Delicious,” she pronounced after she’d finished chewing. She ordered a glass of merlot, and Fina jumped on the bandwagon.

“Are you a wine aficionado?” Marnie asked.

“Hardly, but you look like you know what you’re doing.”

Marnie laughed. “I’m no expert.”

“You are in my company.” Fina looked around at the other tables. A few of them were occupied by men and women dressed in muted tones and clothing one step below business wear. Fina assumed that many of them were academics or in the sciences. It wasn’t hard to imagine that she had the lowest IQ in the room.

“Tyler told me about Rosie,” Marnie said.

“Her disappearing act? Yeah, I felt kind of bad forcing her home, but Renata was worried.”

“They should have told Renata what was going on. It was crummy to make her worry.”

“I think Rosie was at the end of her rope.”

The waiter returned with their wine, and Fina watched as Marnie swirled the liquid in her glass and stuck her nose into the opening. She inhaled deeply before taking a sip.

“What’s the verdict?” Fina asked.

“It’s really nice.”

Fina took a sip and held the rich liquid in her mouth. Marnie looked at her expectantly, but Fina just smiled and shrugged. “What you said.”

Marnie took another drink. “So Rosie is home now.”

“Yes, and she’s been questioned by the police.”

Marnie raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if Tyler mentioned it, but I’ve been hired by Michael Reardon to find his father’s killer.”

“You’re not working for Renata anymore?” She looked surprised.

“We don’t seem to be, although with Renata, things seem to change on an hourly basis.”

Marnie chewed thoughtfully. “I can’t imagine the police like having you over their shoulder.”

“They don’t, but we manage. Have they questioned Tyler yet?” Fina asked.

Marnie frowned. “I know he’s relevant since Hank was his donor, but they can’t really imagine he had anything to do with his death.”

“I don’t know what they think, but I imagine he’s on their list.”

“Of suspects?”

“Of people they want to talk to.”

Marnie reached over and took another small handful of nuts. “Well, obviously he’ll cooperate if needed.”

“If you want one of my brothers to sit in, that can be arranged.”

“But your firm doesn’t do criminal defense, right?”

“Right, but for half an hour of questions, it might be easier than finding someone new.”

“I’ll let you know.”

“How’s Jess doing?”

Marnie sighed and rested her chin in her hand. “She’s okay. I worry sometimes that Tyler is too impulsive, doesn’t pay enough attention to things, but occasionally that approach is a blessing.”

“Jess is more serious?” Fina asked, holding her wineglass by its skinny stem.

“Yes, and very protective of her brother. They’re both good kids.”

“The police are probably going to want to know your alibi, and Jess’s, too.”

“That’s fine.”

Fina looked at her. “Mind if I ask?”

Marnie looked weary. “Tyler and I were home asleep, and I assume that Jess was at her place. We actually haven’t had a family discussion on the topic.” She smiled ruefully.

“No need to, it sounds like.”

They exchanged pleasantries while emptying their wineglasses and munching on the rest of the nuts.

Outside, Marnie and Fina walked in opposite directions. Fina liked Marnie. She hoped her kids had nothing to do with Hank’s murder.

•   •   •

Cristian’s phone rang six times before he answered.

“Menendez.”

“What took you so long?” Fina asked, her legs propped up on the back of the couch. “You usually answer by the second ring.”

“I’m busy. What’s up?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to touch base.”

“There’s nothing I can tell you, Fina.” Voices could be heard in the background.

“I’m not asking for any information, actually. I have some for you.”

“Hold on a sec.” Cristian seemed to cover the phone and came back on a minute later. It was quiet now.

“Are you at work?”

“No.” He hesitated. “I’m grabbing something to eat.”

“Oh,” she said. Cristian sounded funny.

“What did you need to tell me?” he asked.

“I had a conversation in my lobby this afternoon with a kid named Brett Linder. He claims that Hank was his donor.”

“Really.”

“Yeah, but it might be a scam. I think he’s looking for a payday.”

“Great. The list grows.”

“I told him to contact you guys or Jules Lindsley, but I warned him he wasn’t getting anything until he proved he was Hank’s kid.”

“You think that will scare him off?”

“I don’t know, but I wanted to give you a heads-up. Do you hear that, it’s me giving you a heads-up?”

“Yes, I hear you. I know that’s very hard for you.”

“It is. Thank you for recognizing that.” She touched her split lip, which was starting to scab. “So, what, are you on a date or something?” she joked.

“Actually, yeah.”

“Come on.”

He was silent for a moment. “You told me to get a hobby, and I did.”

“That’s your hobby?”

“Why not? Seems like a good pursuit. Better than fixating on my ex-wife.”

“So who’s the lucky lady?”

“A speech pathologist named Cindy.”

“Hmm.”

There was an awkward silence.

“I’ve gotta go; I’m being rude.”

“Cindy better get used to interruptions if she’s going to date a cop. Not many women can compete with the job.”

“Good night, Fina.”

She lay there with the phone in her hand. When she suggested he get a hobby, she meant running or Xbox. It was supposed to be a distraction from Marissa, not from Fina herself.

Milloy answered his phone more quickly, but was unavailable, which only soured her mood more. They made a lunch date for the next day, and Fina had a glass of wine and a 100 Grand bar to offset her annoyance.

Apparently, those two hadn’t gotten the memo requesting they be on call 24/7.

“I want to give you that sample,” Risa said. Fina was fighting her way into the Sumner Tunnel when her phone rang. Matthew had asked her to check something out at the Revere Police Station, and she was coming back into the city.

“Okay. When’s a good time for me to stop by?”

Risa’s afternoon was booked with fund-raising committee meetings for Grahamson, the private school her kids and Haley attended.

“How about tonight at the club?” Risa asked.

“You want me to take a DNA swab at the club?” Fina was halfway through the tunnel, marveling that it was still standing. The Sumner Tunnel was narrow and dark, and the tiles looked as though they might tumble off the wall at any moment. Fina tried not to think about the ocean that surrounded it, squeezing its aged structure. She wasn’t prone to claustrophobia, but she liked to get through it as quickly as possible.

“We could do it in the ladies’ room, in one of the changing cabanas,” Risa said.

“Okay. It’s a little weird, but okay.”

“I’m afraid I’ll lose my nerve if I put it off.”

“That’s fine, I just want to make sure you really want to do it.”

“I really want to; I’m just scared to death at the same time.”

“That’s understandable.”

“How soon will we get the results?”

“If I put a rush on it, we can get them in twenty-four hours once the lab has both samples.”

“Definitely put a rush on it.”

“I will get it done ASAP,” Fina reassured her.

They made plans to meet later in the day, and Fina drove back to her condo. She took special care when walking through the building’s parking garage. Earlier in the summer she’d been jumped there, her wrist broken in the scuffle, which should have put her on alert, but time had a way of making you careless, which helped explain Monday’s escapade. Fina wrapped her hand around the gun in her bag and scanned the rows of cars before hightailing it to the elevator.

Once upstairs she wandered into the kitchen, where she peered into the fridge. Fina got groceries delivered from an online grocery service every two weeks. Without the influx of ice cream, diet soda, and Pop-Tarts, she’d probably starve. Her nearly bare cabinets suggested that she was due for a delivery.

A handful of Nutter Butters in hand, she decided to call Greta Samuels. Fina dialed her number and looked out at the harbor while it rang. A tanker was being steered by two tugboats. The two vessels were dwarfed by the boat they were guiding, and Fina was struck by how incongruous the relationship seemed. But babies were little, and they ran their parents’ lives; small didn’t mean powerless.