by Ingrid Thoft
Unfortunately, the only definitive thing she was leaving with was polished nails.
TWENTY-ONE
Fina tracked Glen Sullivan down at a car wash in Jamaica Plain. She parked in a side lot near the line of vehicles waiting to roll onto the automated track. After the harsh winter, cars were caked with dirt and sediment, badly in need of a wash. They entered the building gray and matte and emerged bright and shiny.
A team of Hispanic men wielding damp rags clustered around a dripping SUV at the exit. They rubbed at it as if polishing an apple, with each man taking charge of one portion of the car. Fina asked for Glen and was rewarded with a nod toward the building.
Customers sat in a waiting room outfitted with plastic chairs, dog-eared magazines, and a TV blaring a cable news channel. Interested parties could watch the transformation from a windowed hallway that ran alongside the car wash itself. Fina started down an enclosed parallel passageway to empty offices, a small kitchen, and restrooms. One of the last doors led to an office that had a window onto the observation walkway and the slow parade of cars.
“Glen?” Fina poked her head into the room. A young man sat behind the desk, fiddling with his phone.
“Yes.” He looked up at her. Although she assumed he was in his mid-twenties given his connection to Dante, he’d retained a layer of baby fat in his face and around his middle that made him look younger. He had a large, square head topped with red hair and wide-set eyes. His pale skin called to mind a newborn mouse.
“Dante Trimonti sent me.”
He put down his phone and crossed his arms. The pose read more nervous than powerful. “I’m not working with Dante anymore.”
“My name’s Fina Ludlow.”
His eyes darted to the side, indicating a hint of recognition.
“May I?” She gestured to the chair across from him.
He shrugged. His desk was a standard metal model with a couple of overflowing wire in-boxes on top. An enormous Slurpee sat in front of him. It was a lurid purple color and dripped with condensation.
“I’m a friend of Dante’s, and I’m looking for some information. Someone put a contract out on me.” Fina smiled sweetly. “I’d like to know who.”
Glen shook his head.
“Not to kill me,” Fina clarified.
“I don’t know anything about stuff like that.” Behind him, an explosion of blue and pink suds rained down on a car. “Look, I’ve got a good job here, and I don’t want to screw it up.”
“I’m not looking to jam you up,” Fina assured him. “Just relax.”
Glen reached for the Slurpee and took a pull from the drink. Fina got a cold headache just watching.
“Do you know anything about it? Fina Ludlow is a pretty unique name. It’s kind of hard to forget.”
He put the drink down and shoved his hands into his pockets. “I heard about it,” he finally admitted, “but I don’t know anything.”
“Tell me what you heard.”
“I just heard that the job was making the rounds, and someone picked it up.”
“Someone took the job, you mean?”
He nodded.
“Who took the job? I promise this won’t blow back on you.” Fina had no business making that promise, but she was getting desperate and had to put her own needs before Glen’s. It wasn’t fair, but it was the world she lived in.
Glen rotated his chair slightly so he had a better view of the cars rolling by. “I don’t know. Like I said, I don’t want to be involved in any of that stuff.”
Fina considered his reluctance for a moment. “What’s changed?” she asked. “Why are you turning over a new leaf?”
He looked at her. “My girlfriend and me, we’re having a kid.”
“Congratulations. When is she due?”
“Four months.” The hint of a smile snuck onto his face. “We’re having a boy.”
“That’s great. I applaud your efforts to get on the right track.”
Glen shook his head. “It’s not easy. We’re trying to find a place to live, and we want to get married.” He fiddled with the lid of his Slurpee. “And I’ve got some legal stuff to deal with.”
“What kind of legal stuff?”
“Bad checks. That sort of thing.”
“Do you have an attorney?”
“My cousin’s friend is helping out.”
Fina reached into her bag and pulled out one of Matthew’s cards. “If you give me the name of the guy, I’ll hook you up with excellent representation, free of charge.” She held the card out like a small carrot.
His hand hesitated midair.
“You and I both know that innocent people don’t go free, Glen,” Fina continued. “It’s the people with good lawyers who go free.”
Glen took the card. “The guy’s name is Jimmy Smith. That’s all I know.”
“Seriously? Jimmy Smith? You might as well tell me to look for John Doe.”
He held his hands up in defense. “It’s what I heard. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Fina sighed. “Is he white? Young? Does he have a nickname that you know of?”
“I know he’s white and in his twenties. That’s it.”
“You’re sure he’s the one who took the job? If he doesn’t turn out to be the guy, our deal is off.”
He nodded. “He took the job.”
Fina considered the information for a moment. It wasn’t much to go on, but it was more than she had when she walked in. “When you call the office,” she said, nodding at the card, “tell them that you’re a referral from Fina Ludlow.”
“Okay.” He tucked the card into his pocket.
“Thank you, Glen. Good luck with your new life.”
She was at the door when he spoke. “Why does someone want to beat you up? What did you do?”
Fina smiled. “Nothing. Everything. Who knows?”
On the way to her car, she left a message for Matthew giving him a heads-up on his new client. He wouldn’t be thrilled with the worthless business, but sometimes you had to use what you had to get what you needed.
• • •
Evan agreed to meet Fina during his lunch break. His office was near a fancy organic supermarket with lots of prepared foods, and she grabbed a container of spicy tuna rolls from the sushi section and met him at a table in the café area. He was tucking into what looked like chicken tikka with a side of naan.
“I don’t suppose I can get a real diet soda in this place,” she said, craning her neck toward a refrigerated case.
“Good luck.”
Fina slipped out of her seat and filled two cups from a watercooler. She gave one to Evan before sitting down.
“How is it being back at work?” Fina asked.
He chewed slowly, then had a drink of water. “Work’s fine. My brain can’t make sense of the home part.”
“That Nadine isn’t there?”
“That I’m there without her. I hadn’t been living at home for a couple of months, and I always hoped I’d be back, but she was supposed to be there, too.”
“How’s Molly?”
“She’s been acting out a little. I don’t know if it’s because of Nadine or she’s just going through a phase.”
Fina placed a small piece of ginger in her mouth. “Why didn’t you tell me that Paul and Nadine used to date?”
“I forgot,” he said, tearing off a piece of naan.
“You forgot that your wife used to date her cousin’s husband? A cousin you see often?”
He rested his elbows on the table and looked at her. “I’ve had other things on my mind, Fina.”
“Right. Well, maybe now you could enlighten me.”
“Nadine and Paul dated some in high school and at the beginning of college.”
“And where did Christa fit into this?”
/> “Nadine and Paul broke up for a little while, and that’s when Christa got pregnant.”
“Wait.” Fina put down her water. “Were Nadine and Paul broken up for good when he hooked up with Christa?”
Evan focused his attention on his plate and a corner of naan. He swiped it around the dish, soaking up sauce.
“Nadine and Paul broke up. Paul and Christa were together for a little bit, and then Nadine and Paul got back together.”
“And then Christa learned she was pregnant?” Fina dipped a piece of roll into the soy sauce and put it in her mouth. She liked the taste of the fish roe on top, but knew she’d be digging tiny orange orbs out of her teeth for the rest of the day.
“Basically.”
“So when Christa got pregnant, Paul was in some ways more Nadine’s boyfriend than her own.”
He shook his head. “Nadine and Paul weren’t together when Christa got pregnant.”
“But they got back together shortly afterwards, which would suggest that their relationship still had some life in it.”
“I suppose.”
Fina’s gaze drifted to the bulk foods self-service area. A woman in yoga pants was filling a bag with some kind of nut or grain that probably cleansed her system. Fina never understood that concept; wasn’t it her body’s job to clean itself out? What was it there for otherwise?
“I’m not suggesting that Paul and Christa did anything wrong,” she said, “but that must have been painful for Nadine.”
“I guess,” Evan replied.
“So what happened when Christa discovered she was pregnant?”
“Paul broke up with Nadine.”
“And married Christa?”
He nodded. “Right before McKenna was born. Neither wanted to have the baby out of wedlock.”
“So in six months’ time, Nadine went from being Paul’s girlfriend to being first cousins, once removed, to Paul’s child?”
“I guess. I don’t know how all that works.”
Fina swallowed her irritation. “My point is: They became related in a very different way than Nadine probably anticipated.”
“Right,” Evan conceded.
Fina ate another roll. The seaweed was chewy, but provided a nice contrast to the soft rice and tender fish. People assumed Fina didn’t like food that was good for her, but they were wrong. It’s just that her main criterion for food was ease in preparation, and in one’s own home, ripping into a Hostess cupcake was easier than rolling up some sushi.
“Nadine must have been pissed,” Fina said.
“I wasn’t around then, but I think she was upset.”
“I spoke with Christa about this, and she downplayed the whole thing.”
“Of course she downplayed it. She ended up with her cousin’s boyfriend.” Evan dropped his napkin onto his plate and pushed it away. “Everything worked out for the best, though.”
“True. You and Nadine wouldn’t have gotten together if she’d been with Paul.”
“Exactly.”
“Did Nadine have a serious boyfriend before you two got together?”
He shrugged. “She dated some people, but nothing serious.”
Fina ran her fingertip along the ruffle of fake grass in her sushi container. “So she had a lot of time to watch Christa’s happy family grow.”
Evan threw up his hands in exasperation. “She wasn’t jealous of Christa. Why does any of this matter? Nadine is the one who ended up dead.”
“But if her relationships were more complicated than they appeared at first glance, they could have something to do with her death.”
“So now you think Christa killed her?” He piled his trash on an empty tray another patron had left behind.
“I didn’t say that, but it wasn’t one big happy family like I’d been led to believe. I have to ask these questions, Evan.”
“So you say.”
Fina didn’t want to cause him additional grief, but if that was the price of solving his wife’s murder, so be it.
“What about the antifreeze in your house?” she asked.
Evan’s features seemed to stretch tight across his face. “How do you even know about that?”
Fina looked at him. “Really? That’s the important part of that question?”
“What can I tell you? We had antifreeze in our house. So do a lot of people.”
It was a weak response, but short of confessing to killing his wife, it was the best explanation she would get.
“Thanks for talking to me,” Fina said.
Evan’s face was slack, and when he stood, she noticed that his jacket was hanging loosely on his frame.
In every case, layered relationships and complicated histories were revealed with time, and Fina knew it was part of the process, the slow unfolding of the truth. But just once, she wished someone would tell her the truth the first time she interviewed them.
• • •
Fina screwed up her courage after lunch and headed for the police station. Only when she was coming through the front door and took a deep breath did she realize how tightly coiled her body was, being in a constant state of alert. Watching over her shoulder and bracing for an attack were draining, and being surrounded by armed police officers let her put down the burden for a bit.
She needed to update Cristian, but there was a small part of her that hoped he was out. Fina wanted credit for trying to be in touch, but didn’t actually want to be in touch. Unfortunately, fate was not on her side, and she was escorted by a uniformed officer to the department gym in the building’s basement.
Most large police precincts have their own workout facilities in the hope that the employees will make an effort to stay in shape. Fina had encountered some cops who fit the donut-eating, overweight stereotype, but most of the cops she knew were in good shape and could easily beat the average citizen in a footrace.
There were half a dozen cops in the windowless gym. Loud classic rock rang out from the speakers, and a TV in the corner was tuned to a soap opera with the sound muted. Two guys were running on treadmills. Another pair were doing bench presses, and a woman worked her triceps on a cable machine. Cristian was in a corner manipulating a heavy bag of sand over his head. If the cops in the gym were a representation of the force, the city was in good hands.
Fina waited until Cristian was between sets, then navigated through the equipment to his spot. He was wearing gray gym shorts and a sweat-soaked BPD T-shirt.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hi. I don’t want to interrupt. I can catch you later if you’d prefer.”
“It’s fine. I’m done. I just need to stretch.”
She followed him to some mats and took a seat with her back against the wall. Cristian dropped down into a lunge to stretch his legs.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“I just wanted to bring you up to speed.” Her eyes strayed to his ass, the muscles of which strained against his shorts.
“I would appreciate the decency of your making eye contact when you speak to me, ma’am,” he said, grinning.
“I can’t help it, Detective.”
“Uh-huh. You were going to bring me up to speed?”
Fina crossed her legs at the ankles. “I don’t suppose you have an opinion about Evan and the antifreeze you found at the Quaynor residence?”
Cristian switched legs. “A: How do you know about the antifreeze, and B: ‘bringing me up to speed’ means you tell me things, not the other way around.”
She shook her head. “I always get that wrong.”
“No shit. How’d you find out about the antifreeze?”
“I investigated.”
Cristian frowned.
“Don’t worry. I didn’t do anything illegal.” Last time she checked, being nosy wasn’t illegal. “Back to your opinion.”
“No comment.” He took a seat and reached for his toes.
“Does that mean you also have no comment about the romantic relationship Nadine had in her twenties?”
“I don’t have time for guessing games, Fina.”
She hesitated. Telling Cristian about Nadine and Paul didn’t gain her anything in the moment, but it might generate some goodwill that would come in handy when she told him about the anonymous letters.
“Nadine Quaynor and Paul Jackson dated when they were younger, and Christa got pregnant in the middle of the whole thing.”
Cristian grinned. “He knocked up his girlfriend’s cousin?”
“Technically, Nadine and Paul had broken up, but then they got back together. Apparently, Paul had been with Christa during their break.”
“That must have pissed off Nadine.”
“I assume so, but they’re all being rather circumspect about the whole thing.”
“Even though Nadine had the biggest reason to be angry, and she’s the one who ended up dead?”
“Exactly what I thought. I understand if they’re embarrassed; it’s not something to crow about, but acknowledging it doesn’t make any of them look guiltier.”
“Who told you about it?” Cristian mopped his face with a towel and scooted next to her against the wall.
“Their daughter McKenna. She was looking through photo albums and found pictures of Nadine and Paul at the prom. Obviously, it’s not a family secret, but I imagine she might have some questions about the timing when she gets older.”
“I would think.”
Fina playfully punched his thigh. “How ’bout that? I just brought you up to speed!”
“Well done.”
“Any news from your guys regarding my contract?”
Cristian shook his head. “I’ll check in with Buckley, but I haven’t heard anything. You?”
“I got the lead of a lifetime: Jimmy Smith.”
He burst out laughing. “Good luck with that.”
“I appreciate the encouragement. Could you run him through the system for me? I don’t think Pitney would mind.”
“Let me clear it with her. She’s very persnickety when it comes to you.”
“Lucky me.”