Identity (37 page)

“
Some
of them pay you up front,” Fina grumbled.

“Easy, killer.”

“Sorry, I’m just disappointed that they didn’t tell us—me—the truth.”

“Don’t take it personally. They’re teenagers, and even adults do stupid things when the police are involved.”

“So what should we do?”

“Let’s get Rosie in here to discuss this.”

“Are you going to advise her to come clean?”

Scotty considered for a moment. “I don’t know. I assume the police already know; why else the little chat at the station? But if that’s all they’ve got, it’s obviously not enough. Why help their investigation?”

Fina scratched her lip. The healing was coming along nicely, but it was itching a little. “We’ll have to include Renata in the meeting. Technically, Rosie’s a minor.”

“Do you think Renata knows about this already?”

“No, actually. I think Rosie has been lying to her, too.” Fina had a swig of her drink. “I’ll call Rosie and set something up.”

“Sounds good. Talk to Michelle to coordinate our schedules.”

“Okay.” Fina continued to sit, picking at the tab on the soda can.

“Yes?” Scotty asked after a moment. “Do you want to discuss something else?”

“Not really, but I think I should.”

“Those feelings you’re having, they’re natural. It’s all part of puberty.” Scotty suppressed a smile.

Fina rolled her eyes. “Wait until you have to have that talk with the boys. And I don’t think ‘Insert tab A into slot B’ qualifies.”

He laughed. “So what’s bothering you?”

Fina gestured toward her neck. “So you know how I was . . .”

“Attacked?”

“That sounds so violent.”

“It was violent!”

“Okay, fine. See, you’re getting upset already, and I haven’t even told you anything yet.”

“Fina, spit it out. I have a meeting in five minutes.”

“I think the guy who did it is trying a different angle. He sent me photos of Haley.”

“What kind of photos?” Scotty asked, leaning forward.

“Nothing like that. Photos like she’s being watched.”

Scotty shook his head. “Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“I’m serious.” Fina looked down at her feet.

Scotty tapped his fingers on the desk blotter. He was very different in temperament from Carl, but they shared some behavioral tics. “What are you going to do about this?”

“I’m not sure, but I’m working on a plan.”

“That’s it?”

“I didn’t think I should wait until I had a plan to tell you.”

“Well, what? Do you think she needs protection?”

“No, but I want you and Patty to keep an eye out.”

“And what about the boys?”

“They weren’t in any of the photos. Clearly, the guy is just fucking with me, Scotty.”

“Except it’s not just you. Have you told Dad?”

“No, and I don’t want to, not yet at least.”

“You’re saying that Haley may be in danger, but you don’t know who is threatening her or how to stop him.”

“In a nutshell.”

“This has been a great visit.”

“Look, I’ll call you later and we can decide if we need to take extra precautions.”

“Fine, but don’t forget to call me. If I don’t hear from you, I’ll have to assume that you’ve been the victim of another violent attack.”

“Stop being so dramatic.”

“Stop getting beaten up.”

Fina left the office and took the elevator down to the Prudential Center. She checked her messages and picked up one from Dante and another from Theresa. She’d deal with them later.

In the fifteen minutes she had to kill before meeting Juliana, she browsed the clothing stores. Fina liked clothes but hated shopping. Her usual routine was to grab a bunch of items off the racks, buy them, try them on at home, and eventually give the rejects to Haley or Patty. Returning stuff was never a priority on her to-do list. Before lunch she quickly chose two dresses, three tops, and a pair of pants. Something was bound to fit someone.

•   •   •

The café that Juliana had selected was the sort where you order your meal at the counter and they bring it to your table. Fina spent the moments waiting for Juliana studying the completely vegan menu. Her approach to good nutrition was simple: Avoid it at all costs. A quick metabolism and lack of chronic illnesses had so far enabled Fina to eat a diet consisting mostly of preservatives and processed foodstuffs. Maybe she’d feel physically better if she adopted better eating habits, but maybe she’d be hit by a bus on the way home, in which case her arteries wouldn’t get a vote. Why not revel in the food industry’s manipulative marketing and taste-altering campaigns in the meantime?

Clearly the diners at this café wouldn’t agree, since most of the offerings were gluten-free in addition to being free of animal products. Fina understood that eating animal flesh was distasteful to some people, but what did butter ever do to you? She was trying to decide between the BLT made with tempeh bacon or the Reuben made with shaved seitan when Juliana breezed in. Fina shared her quandary with her.

“Definitely have the BLT. It’s delicious.”

“If you say so.”

“Don’t be so skeptical, Fina. You’ll miss out on so much in life.”

Fina wasn’t in the mood to be lectured, but bit her tongue. She needed to stay focused.

They found a table at the window overlooking Huntington Ave and uncapped their drinks. Fina had opted for seltzer, but Juliana chose carrot beet juice.

“How are things at the center?” Fina asked.

“They’re terrific. Very busy, but that’s the way I like it.” Juliana brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. She was wearing a fitted pantsuit and short boots, both of which were flattering and expensive-looking.

“I met your neighbor Bud Mariano,” Fina said. “He’s a hoot.”

“He’s such a sweet man. Did he tell you about his scuba diving?”

“Yes, he showed me some of the brochures for his trip.”

“I think it’s fantastic. He’s eighty-two and starting on a new adventure.”

“He’s obviously impressed by your triathlon training.”

Juliana shook off the compliment and didn’t have a chance to respond before a young man brought their sandwiches to the table. He was cute, but there was not an ounce of fat on him. His clothes seemed to wear him rather than the other way around, and Fina fought the urge to pick him up, toss him over her shoulder, and find an ice-cream sundae,
stat
.

“So you have more questions for me?” Juliana asked after taking her first bite of sandwich.

“One of the things I run up against in most investigations is that people don’t necessarily lie to me, but they leave a lot of things out.”

Juliana looked at her with a guileless expression. “Such as?”

“Such as your fight with Hank about the funding for the Reardon Center.”

Juliana put down her sandwich and wiped her fingers on her napkin. “Did Bud tell you we had a fight? You know, his hearing isn’t great.”

Fina chewed her bite. It was taking an unreasonable amount of time and effort.

“I, respectfully, call bullshit on that,” Fina said once she’d finally swallowed her mouthful. “His hearing is just fine. And I didn’t just hear this from Bud; I’ve heard from other sources that your funding was in jeopardy.”

“What other sources?”

“I’m not going to say, so let’s move on. Did you have a fight with Hank?”

“I’m not going to discuss this with you.”

Fina pulled open her sandwich and removed the offending tempeh. She put the slices of bread back together and took a bite of her newly constructed LT sandwich.

“Did you know that your son also had a fight with his father just days before his death?”

Juliana looked annoyed. “And who told you that?”

“Michael did.”

“Well, that’s his business, not mine.”

“Okay, but I work for Michael, and presumably, you don’t want to be an obstacle in this investigation.”

Juliana leaned toward Fina and lowered her voice. “I didn’t kill Hank, so I couldn’t possibly be an obstacle to anything. You shouldn’t be focusing on me. You should be focusing on other people.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, I don’t know. His wife? His business partner? His illegitimate children? Their mothers?”

Fina took a swig of seltzer and tried to swallow her annoyance at the same time. “I told Michael when I took the case that I was going to investigate everyone—even you—and he agreed to that.”

“Well, I don’t think he really thought it through.”

“Be that as it may . . .”

Juliana reached down and picked up her designer handbag. “I think we’re done. If you have any real questions to ask me, then please, don’t hesitate to be in touch.” She pushed back her chair and took off, her half-eaten sandwich left behind.

Fina loaded their plates onto a tray and spent what felt like an hour separating out the various components of their trash. She wasn’t opposed to recycling or composting; she just never remembered to build it into her schedule.

Back in the Prudential Center, she set off in the direction of the food court, one of America’s most inspired inventions.

Whew. She was famished.

Dante spent most of his nights at Crystal, overseeing his burgeoning criminal empire, but his days were spent in an office at the Hercules Body Shop in Somerville. Fina didn’t doubt that there was some legitimate work done at the shop, but she didn’t think it was the main source of income.

Fina was openly ogled when she walked through the garage and asked for Dante. She was directed to the second floor of the building. The upstairs hallway was dominated by a trophy case that held wrestling and boxing awards. One of the two rooms at the top of the stairs was closed off with a child gate, behind which were three kids ranging in age from one to four. Two middle-aged women were tending them, and a TV mounted overhead was playing a cartoon.

In the room next door, Dante sat behind one of two desks. The space was overstuffed with the desks, chairs, and file cabinets, and large slatted venetian blinds hung over the two windows. Dante was on the phone, leaning back in his chair with his feet on the desk. He looked surprised to see Fina and irked when she sat down in the chair behind the other desk.

“I’ll call you back.” Dante hung up and looked at her.

“I got your message and I thought I’d just stop by,” Fina said.

“A call would have been fine.”

“I like to see you in your various elements.”

“It’s a wasted trip. Like I said on the phone, I don’t have much to tell.” A calendar featuring a naked woman on a tractor hung on the wall next to him. The photo looked like an accident waiting to happen.

“Who puts out a naked tractor calendar?” Fina asked.

Dante hunched up his shoulders. “Who cares?”

“I’m just curious. What’s up with the day-care center next door?” She nodded toward the room with the children.

“Your questions are annoying.”

“Again, just curious. So, what do you have to tell me?” She swiveled the chair on its base.

“That kid? Brett Linder? I couldn’t get anything on him. I think he’s just a white kid pretending to be a gangster.”

Fina looked at Dante and tried not to smile. “He has a record, though.”

“Mostly chickenshit stuff.”

“Okay, what else?”

Dante leaned forward in his seat and looked at her. “It hurts me to say this, but that chick, Theresa McGovern? She’s awesome.”

“Really?” Fina asked, arresting the swiveling of her chair. “Not that I’m shocked, but I’m glad you think so, too.”

“She’s cool. I thought she was going to be all proper and shit, but she’s got a wild side.” Dante smirked.

“I’m not sure I want to hear this,” Fina said, rising to her feet. “Did you hear anything about the guy who’s after me?”

He shook his head. “Sorry.”

“He’s threatening my niece now, which is totally uncool.”

He held up his hands. “I got nothing for you.”

“I’m a little disappointed in your lack of information, but in general, I like this new relationship we’re forming, Dante. It feels very congenial.”

“If that means I’m scared of you, then that’s about right.”

“Keep in touch!” Fina said, and retraced her steps out of the body shop.

•   •   •

Fina tilted her face up to the sun. She was sitting on a bench outside the Universum Tech headquarters, waiting for Theresa. Rather than call, Fina decided to stop on her way back over the river. Theresa’s message had been cryptic and definitely warranted a follow-up.

“Hey,” Theresa said, sitting down next to her. She had a coffee in one hand and a waxed bag in the other. She pulled a scone out of the bag. “Want a bite?”

“No, thanks. What’s going on? Your message was mysterious.”

“First of all, I wanted to thank you. I did a set at Crystal, and it was awesome.”

“Those were Dante’s exact words.”

“You spoke to Dante?”

“Just came from seeing him. He seemed really pleased.”

Theresa smiled. “Good.”

“You may not be aware of this, but Dante is a criminal. He’s a pimp and involved in a variety of illegal activities.”

“What’s your point?” Theresa took a bite.

“He’s not boyfriend material.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”