Loyalty (27 page)

“So what do you want?” Dante asked.

“I want to know who Brianna worked for, and”—she gestured with a bloody paper towel—“I think you owe me big-time.”

“You think? You made me look like a pussy in front of those guys.”

“I made you look like a player in front of those guys. You don’t seem so small-time when you have multiple people gunning for you. You need to get a better grip on the PR angle of this business,” Fina said. “So find out the name for me. ASAP, by the way.”

“Or else?”

“Oh, Dante, let’s not go there.”

Fina stood up and walked toward the door. “Where’s your phone?”

He looked around the room and gestured weakly toward the TV. Fina picked it up and handed it to him. “You must have some intellectually challenged girl on your speed dial who would enjoy playing nurse. Am I right?”

Dante pressed some buttons with his thumb. Fina put her hand on the doorknob and looked at him. “And remember, if my niece shows up at Crystal, call me.”

“I did call you, remember? How about some credit for that?”

“Sometimes, doing the right thing is its own reward, Dante.”

Fina turned the knob and slipped her other hand into her bag. She gripped her gun all the way to her car, in case Dante’s visitors were hanging around. Once she was safely locked in her car, Fina released her hand from the grip and relaxed her muscles.

When did she become such a softie?

Bev’s young recruit stopped by the Back Bay office midmorning to report on her date the night before. Not all of the details, of course. Bev didn’t need a blow-by-blow, so to speak, but she did want to know which services were performed and if the gentleman had been pleased. She’d already called him and gotten positive feedback, but she wanted to hear it from the girl’s perspective.

The young lady sat on one of the yellow houndstooth-covered chairs and fiddled with her hands in her lap. She wasn’t nervous so much as antsy, a response that was familiar to Bev. Girls generally had one of two reactions to their first dates: Either they were repulsed by the whole affair and swore never to do it again, or they were secretly pleased and not a little overwhelmed by the rush of power they got from the experience. This girl was in the latter category. It always pleased Bev when a girl realized that she could harness her natural talents to make a generous sum of money. She didn’t need to type a man’s memos or spend years in school to succeed. She was her own greatest asset. She just needed an open mind and a sense of adventure.

Bev didn’t want to spook her; she’d give her a couple of days before sending her on another date. She presented the few days’ break as an opportunity for the girl to be sure that it was really something she wanted to pursue. Bev was only looking out for her, after all.

Once they’d taken care of business, Bev and the girl chatted about the weather and a couple of shops on Newbury Street. She walked her to the door after a few minutes and instructed her to check in later in the week for her next assignment. Bev closed the door behind her and walked back to her desk.

This was getting fun.

There wasn’t exactly a spring in Connor’s step, that would be an overstatement, but he felt a little lighter today. Some of the change could be attributed to his new lawyer. She was like a junkyard dog, and for the first time in a long time, Connor felt that someone was really fighting for him. Before the whole mess, he would have been put off by someone like her—aggressive and abrasive—but he finally understood. Those kinds of people were everywhere, and if you weren’t one of them, you better have one in your corner.

In the midst of the trial, one of his colleagues had urged him not to become jaded and cynical, but that was impossible. He used to give that kind of advice, but had come to the conclusion that the people who gave that kind of advice hadn’t suffered much.

He turned the corner and approached the steps leading to his mother’s office. There was another reason for his improved mood, and he was turning it over in his head when a young woman—a girl, really—came out the door of Bev’s building. She passed Connor on the stairs, and he gave her a friendly nod. A small smile flashed across her face, and he watched her walk away. She was very pretty—long, blond hair; clear skin; slim. But she looked young. Very young.

He knocked on the door to his mother’s office and waited. Connor knew Bev had two offices, but they had an unspoken agreement that he would only visit the Back Bay location. He didn’t know exactly what went on at the other office. He just knew that he didn’t want to know.

Footsteps echoed on the wood floor, and Connor heard the locks scrape on the other side of the door. Bev opened the door and beamed at her son.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! I wasn’t expecting you, darling.” She ushered him into the room and kissed his cheek.

“Is it a bad time?” he asked and let her smooth the collar of his shirt.

“No such thing when it comes to you.”

Bev led him to the living room, and the two of them sat on the couch. Bev was wearing a sheath dress topped by a short-sleeved jacket. A chunky necklace encircled her neck, and her hair was perfect, as always.

Connor fiddled with his watch. “Was that one of your employees who just left?” He looked at his mother.

“I don’t know,” Bev said. She smoothed her dress over her lap.

“Pretty, blond?” Connor prompted.

“Oh, yes. Her. She’s very nice.”

“She looks very young,” Connor said. He looked around the room to avoid her gaze. He rarely questioned his mother about her work, or anything for that matter.

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to worry. I’ve got things under control.”

“I know that with Dad’s situation you have to manage everything on your own.” Connor swallowed. “And I know that you’re more than capable. I just worry that you don’t have the sounding board that you’ve always had.” Connor glanced at his mother and looked away. He didn’t want to be that sounding board, but as a good son, he felt he should make a tacit offer to step into the void. He hoped that his mother wouldn’t take him up on it.

“I do miss having your father as my partner, but I have a new partner, and we’re managing fine. Obviously, it’s not the same, but it’s just fine. And it’s not your job to step into your daddy’s shoes,” Bev said, and squeezed Connor’s hands.

His shoulders relaxed slightly. “I love you, Mom. I just want to help.”

“And I love you, but I don’t imagine that’s what you came to see me about.”

“You’re right. Actually, I wanted to see if you were available for lunch.”

Bev smiled. “I would love to have lunch with you. Are we celebrating something?”

“Nothing in particular. I just feel pretty good today and thought we should take advantage of that.”

“That’s reason enough for me. Let me powder my nose before we go.” Bev stood and took her purse into the bathroom. Connor sat on the couch and thumbed through an issue of
Southern Living
. He’d been raised in the South, but never felt the loyalty to the region that his parents seemed to. He knew there were many wonderful aspects of Southern culture, but mint juleps and pecan pie never seemed like a fair trade for the whole slavery thing.

“Your good mood wouldn’t have anything to do with a recent news event, would it?” Bev asked when she came into the room. She was carrying a large quilted leather bag in one hand.

Connor put down the magazine and stood up. “I’m not pleased that a woman was murdered.”

“Well, of course not, sugar, but she was his victim just like you were.”

“I loathe the man, but I’m not convinced that Rand Ludlow killed his wife.”

“Does it matter?”

“Doesn’t it?” They stood facing each other.

“It’s okay to want someone to pay for his sins, Connor, even if the punishment doesn’t fit the crime. That man is a parasite, and he should be locked up before he can hurt anyone else.”

“But if he didn’t do it, that means someone else will go unpunished,” Connor said. He studied his mother’s face. As far as he knew, she hadn’t had any plastic surgery, but she looked young for her age. She had some fine lines, but nothing sagged or wrinkled.

“Maybe. Maybe not.” Bev walked over to Connor, put down her bag, and grasped his shoulders. “You are a good man. Just because you’re glad to see someone else suffer doesn’t change that.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s a natural reaction.”

“I shouldn’t feel glad that someone else is suffering.” Connor looked at his shoes.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet boy,” Bev said, and gripped his chin in her hand. “Wherever did you come from?”

Bev picked up her bag and walked to the door. Connor followed her out. She locked the door behind them.

Connor watched his mother as she started down the hallway toward the front door. She seemed pleased enough for the both of them.

Fina managed to convince Haley to have lunch with her at a sushi restaurant in the mall on Route 9.

“I don’t want to talk about feelings, Aunt Fina,” Haley said over the phone.

“Fine. I have something to tell you, and then we can go to Bloomie’s and buy some shoes. On Pap. Do you need me to pick you up?”

“Nah. Chloe will give me a ride.”

Fina got to the restaurant first and was led to a booth in the back. The place had great sushi, but the seating left a lot to be desired. The booths were wooden and straight-backed. The only padding was provided by thin cushions that seemed to deflate even under an average-size person’s weight. The seating wasn’t comfortable under any circumstances, but particularly not if you were nursing aches and pains, like Fina. Once the hostess had walked away, Fina reached around to the booth behind her and snagged the cushions from it. She put two more under her butt and placed the other two on Haley’s side of the booth.

Fina was on the brink of ordering when Haley arrived, almost twenty minutes late. She tossed her purse onto the seat and slid into the booth. She eyed the extra cushions.

“Trust me. You’re going to need them,” Fina said. Haley stacked them up and sat on top of them.

Fina was irritated that Haley was late, but the last thing the girl needed was a lecture. It did make Fina wonder how parents decide which battles to choose with their kids. Elaine came to mind. She had no problem berating her children for the most inconsequential infractions, but didn’t seem particularly concerned with their development as decent human beings. Maybe because she wasn’t one.

“You look nice,” Fina said to Haley after the waitress had taken their order. Haley’s hair was shiny and smooth, her face graced with a touch of makeup.

“Thanks.” She unfolded the paper napkin under her chopsticks and placed it in her lap.

“Hey, I stopped by last night, and your door was locked,” Fina said.

“Oh. Was it?”

“Do you always lock your door at night?”

Haley shrugged. She ripped off the corner of her napkin and rolled the fragment between two fingers. “I guess.”

“What if there’s a fire or something?”

“Who are you, Smokey the Bear? It’s fine.”

“Okay, okay. Just asking. So, is there anything you need right now?” Fina asked.

Haley tapped her straw on the table to free it from the paper wrapping. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about feelings.”

“I’m not asking about your feelings. Is there anything practical that you need that your mom would have taken care of?”

Younger kids were easier. They couldn’t grasp the finality of a grown-up’s death, and those left behind could throw themselves into the daily routines that, on the surface, kept life moving forward. Not that you could replace a parent just by filling sippy cups and washing between dirty toes, but it gave you a place to start, a means of expressing love and concern. What did you do with a teenager? How did you fill a void that was constantly shifting shape?

Haley gazed at Fina. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Aunt Patty checks with me every day. You don’t have to go all maternal on me, or your version of maternal.” She fiddled with her napkin some more.

“I’m here. Just remember that.”

“I will.”

The waitress arrived with a bowl of edamame and a small plate of vegetable tempura. Haley reached for a soybean, and Fina dunked a fried broccoli floret in the dipping sauce.

“I have something to tell you,” Fina said after she’d chewed and swallowed the vegetable.

Haley looked at her.

“It’s about your friend, Brianna.”

“What about her?”

“Have you talked to her recently?”

Haley shook her head and brushed salt off her fingers.

“Haley,” Fina said, adjusting her butt on the stacked cushions, “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Brianna is dead.”