Identity (34 page)

“Is that what I implied? I’m sorry, sweetie, I meant focused.”

“I can live with focused.” She licked sugar off the webbing between her thumb and finger.

“But sometimes when you’re focused you can forget your manners.”

“Me?”

“Are you going to give me the details of this case?” Frank asked.

“I’d rather wait until I have more to report. I want to make you proud.”

“I’m always proud, but I’m ecstatic when you stay in one piece.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Fina said, and got up from the booth. “Give Peg my love.” She leaned over and gave Frank a peck on the cheek. “I’ll come by soon for dinner.”

Fina walked back to her car and saw she had a message from Hal.

Maybe one of the seeds she’d planted was actually starting to grow.

•   •   •

Fina decided her next stop should be Swampscott, via Kelly’s on Revere Beach. She didn’t make the trip north solely for the purpose of procuring fried clams, but it was a tasty incentive nonetheless and a nice chaser to her donut.

She finished her meal and drove to Juliana Reardon’s house, but her knocks on the door were met with silence. Fina noticed a man kneeling in the yard next door and decided to introduce herself.

“Do you know if Juliana is around?” she asked the man. He paused with a pair of garden shears in his hand. He looked to be in his eighties, wearing khaki pants and a polo shirt. His bare feet were wedged into boat shoes, and a hat protected his face from the sun.

“She was out for her swim, but then she came home and left in the car.”

“A swim in the ocean?” Fina asked incredulously.

“It’s part of that racing thing she does.”

Fina looked toward the beach. “It must be freezing. That sounds awful.”

“She wears a wetsuit.” He put down the shears and began to struggle up from his knees. Fina gave him her hand and helped pull him up to a
standing position. “Thank you, young lady.” He brushed dirt off his knees. “I’m her de facto lifeguard. She lets me know when she’s headed out, and if I’m around, I keep an eye on her.”

“That’s nice of you.”

“Bud Mariano.” He took off his gardening gloves and hat and offered Fina his hand.

“Fina Ludlow. I’m a private investigator, and I’ve been hired by Michael Reardon to investigate his father’s death.”

“A private investigator? Well, isn’t that something!” He peered at her fading bruises. He had thinning white hair on the top of his head and piercing blue eyes. When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I spoke with Juliana last week and have some additional questions for her.”

“If you want to wait a bit, I’ve got some lemonade inside.”

“That sounds great. Thanks.”

Fina followed Bud into a two-story white stucco house with black shutters. The kitchen was tidy, with oak cabinets and a farmhouse sink, and opened onto a dining room with a view of the beach. While Bud poured two glasses of lemonade, Fina wandered toward the glass dining room table, where a stack of brochures was fanned out next to a laptop and a wall calendar. Fina tilted her head to read some of the titles. They featured the Caribbean, with a few from Belize thrown in the mix.

“Planning a vacation?” Fina asked.

Bud brought in their glasses and pulled out a seat for Fina. He sat down at the end of the table next to her and reached for one of the brochures.

“I need to do the open-water portion of my scuba certification. I’m trying to decide where to go.”

Fina must have done a poor job of hiding her surprise.

“It’s completely safe,” Bud assured her. “I got checked out by my doctor, and he gave me the go-ahead.”

“I think it’s fantastic,” Fina said. “I wish my parents would learn
how to scuba dive.” Because when you’re underwater, breathing out of a tank, you can’t talk.

“My children disagree.”

“I’m sure they just worry about you.”

“They do. Too much. They think since their mother is gone, I’m completely incapable of taking care of myself.”

“Do your kids live nearby?”

“I’ve got a daughter in Marblehead, a son in Sudbury, and another daughter in Connecticut. What about you? You live in this neck of the woods?”

“I grew up mostly in Newton, but I live in the city now.” She gestured toward the window, where the skyline could be seen in the distance. “My family is still in the MetroWest area.” Fina nodded at the brochures. “Have you narrowed it down?”

“I think Grand Cayman and Bonaire are at the top of the list. Are you a scuba diver?”

“God, no. I don’t want to know what’s down there. I don’t even like opening my eyes in pools.”

“Ever snorkeled?”

“No. I don’t like to share the same space or perspective as the shark in
Jaws
.”

Bud guffawed. “Shark attacks are extremely rare in the Caribbean.”

“You know where they’re really rare? On land.”

“How can you be a private investigator and be such a scaredy-cat?”

“It’s easy. I never take any cases that require scuba diving. And I’m not a scaredy-cat on land.”

“I would hope not. You wouldn’t have much of a business.”

Fina sipped her lemonade. “So how long have you lived here, next to Juliana?”

“My wife and I moved into the house forty-three years ago. My kids think it’s too big for me now,” Bud said.

Fina shook her head. “You’re just disappointing them left and right.”

“Indeed I am, young lady. I feel like a teenager—struggling for my
independence, but well aware I may need them in the not-too-distant future.”

“When did your wife die? Assuming she did.”

“Sadie died just under a year ago.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sure that must be very difficult.”

“It is.”

Neither spoke for a moment. Bud was stuck in his head with his wife, and Fina didn’t want to interrupt.

“Now, Juliana moved in about three years ago,” he said, picking up the thread. “She’s a good neighbor. I don’t know her well, but she was kind when Sadie died. She’s enthusiastic about my scuba diving.”

“I would expect she would be; she’s had to reinvent herself in recent years.” Fina caught a drip rolling down her glass with her fingertip. “Do you know her son, Michael?”

“We’ve been introduced. He seems like a nice young man.”

“Does he come around much, as far as you know?”

“Not really, but his father made the occasional visit.” He fiddled with the corner of a brochure.

“Hank?”

“The very one.”

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. He and Juliana seemed to have a decent relationship, for exes at least.”

Bud’s laptop pinged, indicating he had new e-mail. Bud was obviously more active and engaged in life than some people half his age. He clicked the mouse a few times to mute the machine. “I think Juliana deserves the credit for that.”

“Why’s that?” Fina asked.

“She obviously took the high road. Hank’s current wife is young enough to be his daughter. I don’t understand my peers, replacing their wives with younger versions. What are they thinking?”

Fina grinned. “I’m guessing that you and Sadie had the real thing.”

Bud nodded emphatically. “We did.”

“So you think Juliana was accepting of Hank’s remarriage?”

“In general, although their last visit didn’t go so well.”

“In what way?” Fina asked.

“I wasn’t snooping,” Bud insisted.

“I’m sure you weren’t, but sometimes it’s hard not to hear your neighbors.”

“That’s right.” Bud took a drink of lemonade. “I was working in the bushes in the yard, and they probably didn’t see me. They were fighting about money.”

Fina nodded knowingly. “The Reardon Center.”

“Exactly.” Bud tapped his nose. “They had a big argument about the endowment for the center.”

“I wonder if Hank was going to pull some of the funding,” Fina said. “It would be too bad if the center suffered because of their divorce or his remarriage. It provides a great service to the community.”

“Indeed it does.”

“I have read, however, that his new wife, Danielle, has her own charitable causes.”

“And there isn’t enough to go around?” Bud asked incredulously.

Fina laughed. “Good point.”

“It’s ridiculous.”

Fina finished her drink, but stayed and chatted with Bud for another twenty minutes. He was funny, smart, and handsome, and had an opinion about everything—just her type.

They brought their glasses into the kitchen and left them in the sink. Bud walked her to the door but stopped her before she left.

“Are you related to those attorneys? The ones I see on TV?”

Fina leaned her head toward him. “Promise you won’t hold it against me?” she said under her breath.

Bud held his hand up as if taking an oath. “Never. It’s been a delight.”

“For me, too, Bud. If you were younger, I’d ask you on a date.”

“Oh, young lady. Go, before I have a heart attack.”

“Shoot me an e-mail and let me know how your trip goes.” Fina handed him her business card.

“And you let me know when you’ve worked up the courage to open your eyes underwater.”

“Will do.”

Fina walked to her car with a smile on her face.

She dealt with a lot of douchebags in her line of work, but every once in a while, she uncovered a gem.

•   •   •

Fina was zipping past Suffolk Downs, mulling over this newest piece of the puzzle. It seemed that Juliana Reardon wasn’t completely Zen when it came to Hank and their split. If Hank had threatened to pull funding from the center, Juliana would see that as a serious threat—to the center, certainly, but also to her reputation as the peaceful philanthropist. But was it reason enough to kill him? And what impact would killing Hank actually have on the financial situation?

She drove through Back Bay and got on Huntington Ave. A few minutes later, she pulled into a large gas station with eight pumps and a convenience store.

“Is Mr. Mahad in?” she asked the old man behind the register. He looked Somali, which made sense, given that the Mahad family had emigrated from that African nation.

“Korfa! There is lady to see you.” The man remained on his stool, his eyes jumping between the security monitor trained on the back of the store and a small TV tuned to the local cable station.

A younger man poked his head around a doorway at the back of the store. He was close to forty, wearing trousers, a short-sleeved button-down, and reading glasses.

Fina approached him. “I’m Fina Ludlow, Carl Ludlow’s daughter. I think Frank Gillis was going to give you a call.”

The man beamed. “Of course, Ms. Ludlow, please come in.” He beckoned her into the office. The room was small and windowless, but
neat. A computer sat on the desk next to a stack of paperwork. There was a file cabinet in the corner, as well as a safe. Off to the side were stacked cases of diet soda and Reese’s peanut butter cups. It was like visiting the Promised Land.

“Please, sit.” Korfa gestured at a chair facing the desk.

“I can’t remember if we met when my father was handling your case.”

“I don’t believe so, but I met your brothers, and your father spoke highly of you.” Korfa removed his glasses and placed them on the desk.

“Really?”

Korfa nodded. “The case concerned my daughter, so he told me about his.”

“Good enough.” Fina assumed that Carl thought she did a good job, but he was stingy with praise in general. She rarely heard any. “How is your daughter, Mr. Mahad?”

“Amina is wonderful.” When he smiled, his eyes sparkled and his pearly white teeth popped in contrast to his dark skin. “She is healthy and very successful in school. I owe your father and Frank a great deal.”

“Well, you and your wife should take credit for Amina. Carl and Frank had nothing to do with it.”

“But she would not have received such excellent care if your father had not prevailed. She saw the best doctors and nurses at Children’s, and thanks to them, she is wonderful.”

“I’m so glad.” Fina looked at a framed photo hanging on the wall. It was next to a business license and numerous inspection reports from the state. In it, Korfa posed with a woman in a hijab. In front of them there were three children: a tween, whom Fina assumed was Amina, another young girl, and a fat baby boy. They all smiled widely for the camera.

“Did Frank mention my reason for stopping by?”

“He said you were interested in my surveillance video.”

“That’s right. I’m trying to determine if a car passed this station or the station on Washington Street overnight, the Monday before last.”

“Is this a case for your father?”

“Sort of. It’s a murder case, actually.” Korfa’s eyes widened. “But I’m not asking you for anything that’s illegal or dangerous,” Fina was quick to reassure him. “No one has an expectation of privacy from cameras owned by private businesses on private property.”

He nodded emphatically. “I would be honored to be of assistance.”

Fina gave him the date, and he tapped at his computer keyboard. “Could I e-mail you the files?”

“That would be great. I’m surprised you still have them. A lot of places get rid of film every few days.”

“We used to, but with digital, there’s no need. It has been a good investment. When a customer claims he slipped in my parking lot, I can produce the tape, which proves him wrong.”

“My father would be impressed, Mr. Mahad.” Fina pulled out a business card and handed it across the desk. “If you or your family ever need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thank you, and let me know if I can be of further service to you.”

She wouldn’t mind a case of peanut butter cups, but stopped herself from asking. When you started consuming something—anything—by the case, it wasn’t a good sign.