Identity (33 page)

“No.” Danielle glanced at a crystal clock on the wall. “She’s having a bath.”

Not on her own, presumably, since she couldn’t sit up unassisted.
Fina’s understanding was that, unless you had a catlike baby who didn’t like water, bath time was one of the highlights of having an infant. Patty and Scotty always loved bathing their babies.

Danielle mixed the drinks and brought them over to the couch. Fina took a sip and fought the urge to wince. She wasn’t kidding about liking vodka.

Danielle took a long draw from what Fina guessed was a vodka tonic. Her shoulders visibly relaxed.

“I heard the funeral was a bit of a scene,” Fina said.

“I told Michael she shouldn’t come,” Danielle said with a sigh, “but he’s never been very good at standing up to his mother.”

“Most men aren’t,” Fina commented. Her brothers crushed opponents in court but tiptoed around Elaine. It was ridiculous to see grown men act like such pussies.

“I’m surprised your security didn’t deal with her.”

“And create even more of a scene? There were press there. They would have had a field day if I’d thrown her out.” Danielle drank some more.

“Why did you lie to me about that phone number?” Fina asked.

Danielle swallowed and looked at Fina. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The phone number I showed you on Tuesday. You recognized it. Why was Hank calling Walter Stiles?”

Danielle sat back against the cushions and fiddled with her engagement ring. “Who’s that?”

Fina put her glass down on the coffee table with more force than was required. Danielle started. “Please don’t waste my time and Michael’s money.”

Danielle met her gaze. “Fine,” she said after a moment. “I don’t know why Hank was calling him.”

“But you do know who he is?”

“The sperm dealer? Yes, I know who he is.”

“So why lie about it?”

“Because it’s nobody’s business. Whatever Hank was discussing with him was a private matter.”

“Danielle, nothing is private when it comes to murder, and little is private when you’re a public figure. You know that.”

“Well, it should be. Hank made those donations when he was young and stupid, but he made them believing that his identity would be kept confidential. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I agree.”

“That’s rich, coming from you. You’re the one who outed him.”

“I did what anyone could have done.”

“So you’re not responsible?”

Fina tipped her head to the side. “I’m responsible for the role I played, yes. But the revelation of Hank’s identity was a matter of when, not if.”

“It’s still just an excuse.”

“Maybe.” Fina picked up her glass and took another drink. “What was Hank’s reaction when the news broke?”

“He was bullshit. It was a complete invasion of his privacy, and it couldn’t have come at a worse time.”

“Because of the waterfront development deal?”

“Yes, and bad publicity is never good for Universum.”

“Did you know about the sperm donations before we identified him?”

Danielle tapped her glass with a perfectly manicured fingernail. “Of course I knew. I was his wife.” She looked at Fina. Most people avoided eye contact when they were lying, but there was a smaller subset who looked you straight in the eye, defied you to call their bluff. Fina wondered if Danielle was a member of that subset.

“And did it bother you? The possibility that he had fathered other children?”

“He
had
fathered another child—Michael. It wasn’t like I thought I was getting first crack at him.”

“A child from a previous marriage is quite different from multiple children from assisted reproduction.”

“I’m Hank’s wife, and Aubrey is his legitimate daughter. That’s all that matters.”

“So you really have no idea why Hank contacted Walter Stiles?” Fina asked. She finished her drink and placed the glass on the coffee table.

Danielle shrugged. “Nope.”

There was a light tap on the door, and a different maid entered the room. She carried a tray on which sat a plate of sashimi and a small bowl of wilted spinach.

“Your dinner, Mrs. Reardon.”

Danielle checked her watch. “Thank you, Marie.” The maid put the tray down and picked up Fina’s empty glass, which she spirited away.

Fina stood. “You don’t like to cook?”

“Nah, and I never needed to. When Hank was alive, either we went out or he was out, and I’d have the cook make me something or order in. I didn’t want to cook for two people, let alone one.”

“I don’t cook, either. My mother thinks it’s a character flaw, although she doesn’t cook much anymore.”

“Mine thinks the same thing, but I think she’s just jealous.” She picked up a pair of lacquered chopsticks.

“If you think of anything, like why Hank was in touch with Walter, let me know.”

Danielle shook her head. “I won’t think of anything. Can you find your way out?”

“Yup. The elevator and down. Take care.”

Fina glanced back on her way out. Danielle had reached for a remote, and the large TV screen sprang to life. She had the chopsticks in her hand as she flipped through the channels. It was a picture of wealth and privilege and downright loneliness.

Fina stopped at a diner in Allston and ordered a BLT and fries. Walter Stiles had been on her list since their confrontation outside the cryobank, but he’d vaulted to the top. Hank Reardon was pissed that he’d been outed and had contacted Heritage’s director; did he blame Walter for the release of the information even though it hadn’t come from the cryobank directly? She couldn’t compel Walter to talk to her, but she could be a pest. Oftentimes, people would talk if they thought it would make you go away.

When she pulled into the parking lot at the club it was after seven, safely beyond the dinner hour. She bumped into Patty and the kids walking through the parking lot. Fina exchanged kisses and hugs.

“I’m pumped for that field hockey game, Hale,” she said to her niece.

Haley rolled her eyes. “Don’t embarrass me. Seriously, you’ll be disinvited if you don’t behave.”

Patty laughed as she corralled the boys into the car.

“Of course I’m going to behave,” Fina protested. “Aunt Patty will keep me in line.”

“I will,” Patty said. “It’s Pap we need to worry about.”

“My dad’s going to a game?” Fina asked. Carl wasn’t exactly a
hands-on grandfather. He loved the kids and spoiled them in many ways, but rarely with his time.

“That’s what he says.”

“That should be a hoot. Is my mom here?”

“I plead the fifth.” Patty climbed into the front seat.

“Shit.”

“Aunt Fina!” Teddy scolded her. “You owe Mommy a quarter!” The other boys giggled. Fina reached into her wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. She handed it to Patty, who had rolled down her window.

“Let’s run a tab.”

Patty shook her head. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“Bye.”

Fina walked through the lot and up the path to the pool area. The light was waning, and there were only a handful of people around. Schools had started back, and summer schedules were giving way to the demands of September. In a couple of weeks, the pool would close for the season, and the socializing would move indoors.

Fina spotted her parents sitting at a table with Matthew and Scotty. There was an unfinished bowl of ice cream melting into a puddle and a plate with half a slice of cheesecake. Other empty bowls suggested other, larger appetites.

“I thought you said you couldn’t make it,” Carl said.

“I couldn’t, but I told you I’d stop by with an update.”

“Are you going to eat something?” Elaine asked. Most mothers would be poised to order her something, but Fina knew her mother would only do that if she could offer color commentary on Fina’s choices. Eating was always an opportunity for a critique, in Elaine’s book.

“No, Mom.”

“What? You don’t like the food here all of a sudden?”

“Did you dig anything up on the good doctor?” Fina asked Matthew.

“Nothing. I’ll let you know if I do.”

“I gotta go.” Scotty stood up and stretched. “Any word on our young interviewee?”

“I had lunch with her a couple of days ago. I think I’m on to something. I’ll let you know.”

“You always talk in code,” Elaine commented, and pushed back her own seat.

“Just trying to maintain confidentiality, Mom,” Scotty said.

“Humph.” Only her mother would interpret a law as a personal affront.

“I’m going, too.” Matthew downed the rest of his drink and pushed back his chair.

Fina and Carl watched the threesome circumvent the pool and disappear behind the hedges. A young waitress came over and cleared away the remaining dishes. Once she left, Fina turned to her father.

“Rosie Sanchez was questioned by the police regarding her whereabouts the night Hank was killed. Scotty and I both think she’s lying, and I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. Hank’s business partner was angry about being cut out of a land development deal, and Hank’s former and current wives are battling over money for their respective charities. And not long before Hank was killed, he contacted the head of the cryobank, regarding what specifically, I don’t know.”

“That sounds like a lot of ifs and maybes,” Carl said.

“Yes, and ifs and maybes lead to theories and facts. You know that.” Fina picked up a fork and cut off a bite of cheesecake. “Also, our client had a big fight with his father a couple of days before the murder.”

Carl’s eyebrows climbed his forehead. “He told you that?”

“Of course not. I detected it. Have you heard from Renata? I think she wants to hire you again.”

“Christ, that woman is a pain in the ass.”

Fina ate another bite and wiped her hands on a stray napkin. “So we’re good?”

“For now.” Carl stood, and Fina followed his lead.

They walked to the parking lot together in silence.

When they didn’t talk to each other, they got on like gangbusters.

•   •   •

“Now, don’t be mad,” Fina said, sliding into a booth at Dunkin’ Donuts the next morning.

“So that’s why I haven’t heard from you.” Frank gave her a stern look. Her lip and neck were looking better each day, but it was still obvious there had been fisticuffs. “When is this going to stop?”

“What?” Fina reached across the table toward his cruller. He lightly slapped away her hand.

“If you’re old enough to get in fights, you’re old enough to buy your own donut.”

“Ouch. That’s just mean. Hold that chastising thought for a second.”

Fina went to the counter and ordered a honey-glazed and an OJ. She brought them back to the table and offered part of the donut to Frank.

He declined. “I shouldn’t even be having this one. Peg would kill me. Ice cream is supposed to be my only indulgence.”

“I won’t tell her. Back to your question. I don’t know when ‘this’”—she pointed to her face—“is going to stop.”

“I never got into scrapes the way you do.”

“I think our investigative techniques differ somewhat.” She took a bite of donut. The thick sugary coating smeared across her tongue.

“Meaning you break the law more often.”

“You make it sound like the police do this to me.”

“No, but you get mixed up in things you shouldn’t, maybe because you’re breaking the law.”

Fina took another bite. “That’s one theory. Another is that the world is just a more dangerous place than it used to be.”

Frank grunted. “So what are you doing to get to the bottom of this?”

“I’m just trying to solve the case. I’ve put some feelers out, but haven’t come up with much. I could use Mark Lamont right about now.”

“Oh my God. The last thing you need is Mark Lamont or whoever has taken his place.”

Mark Lamont was a high school friend who had risen in the ranks of wealth and status along with the Ludlows. He’d also been heavily involved in Boston’s crime world, thereby serving as a good source of information. Unfortunately, he’d landed in hot water a few months back, largely thanks to Fina’s detective work. They were no longer on speaking terms.

“Are you still friends with that guy, the one who owns the gas station on Route Nine?”

One of the keys to being a good PI was cultivating relationships with people from all walks of life, all over the city. Medical malpractice, class action, and the other sorts of cases taken on by Ludlow and Associates brought a wide variety of people in the door.

“You mean Korfa?”

“He owns the chain, right?” Five years before, Korfa Mahad’s daughter had fallen off a play structure and suffered serious injuries. The Ludlows had helped them sue the manufacturer, which paid her medical expenses and footed the bill for a few Pump n’ Pantries.

“Yes.” Frank sipped his coffee. “What do you need from him?”

“Does he have security cameras? That actually work and record things?”

Frank nodded. “I would assume so. He takes his security seriously, but nobody keeps that stuff for very long.”

“Would you mind calling him and letting him know I’ll be in touch?”

“Of course, but you have to be polite and return the favor to him one of these days.”

“I promise, and I’m not impolite.”