by Ingrid Thoft
“Have I mentioned how much my grandson wants to go to Fenway on opening day?” Shirley said.
“You’ve mistaken me for a miracle worker. That’s beyond even my powers.” She compensated people like Shirley with hard-to-get sports and theater tickets.
A loud sigh emanated down the phone line. “I don’t know, Fina. I’m not sure I can keep helping you.”
“Then don’t, Shirley.” Fina was in no mood to be strong-armed, having been literally strong-armed the night before. “I’m sure I can find someone who’s happy to be in a luxury box during the Sox–Yankees game. Take care.”
“Well, wait a second. I didn’t say we couldn’t work together.”
“Glad to hear it.”
“The car is registered to Casey Andros. DOB is June 12, 1992, and the address is 139 Macomber Place in Wayland.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.” Fina hung up.
Everybody was a negotiator these days. Quid pro quo was one thing, but Shirley was just being greedy. It would be a pain to replace her, but Fina would if necessary.
She toyed with the idea of visiting Frank, but Fina didn’t have the energy to deal with a lecture. She lay down on the couch and called instead.
“How’s it going, sweetie?” Frank asked when he answered.
“Fine. How’s the surveillance?”
“As boring as I remember.”
“Anything interesting?”
“Not really. I’ve got a lot of pictures of the subject with various people, but nothing that screams out ‘tomfoolery’ at this point.”
“This might help,” Fina said, reeling off Casey Andros’s address.
“You want me to switch over to him?”
“Yeah. I’m interested in the two of them together, but it will be interesting to see what he’s up to the rest of the time.”
“Your wish is my command. Any news on your would-be attacker?”
Fina took a deep breath, but didn’t speak.
“Fina? Is there something you’d like to tell me?”
“There’s something I’d like to not tell you.”
“What happened?” She could hear anxiety in his voice.
“We had an altercation last night, but I’m fine. No need to worry.”
“Are you hurt?”
“He got in a couple of hits, but I did better.”
“Did you see a doctor?”
“No, but Milloy helped me out.”
“No offense to Milloy, but he isn’t a doctor.”
“I know. I’ll probably see someone later today.”
“Why Milloy and not Cristian?” Frank asked.
“The Cristian thing is very complicated.”
“Why’s that?”
“Can we talk about this later? I really should get some work done.”
“We’ll talk about it later then.”
“Great. Let me know what happens with Casey Andros.”
“Will do, and be careful. If you really humiliated that guy, he might come back for another round just to soothe his pride.”
“I know. I’ll be careful.”
Fina hung up and dropped the phone on the coffee table.
She’d be careful, but was that enough? As long as she left the house on her own, she wouldn’t be completely safe. The smart move would be to rehire Chad, but she felt irritated just contemplating it.
But dying because she was stubborn would be really stupid.
• • •
“What do you want?” Dante asked when he returned her call.
“Is my car ready yet?”
“Yeah. You can come get it.”
“How about you bring it to me?” Dante’s shop was in Revere, and Fina didn’t want to make the trip.
“What do you think this is, a chauffeur service?”
“I’m sure you have some business in the city. Just meet me, and I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.” There was a fumbling sound on the other end. “Dante?”
“Yeah, okay. Where do you want to meet?”
“I have to drop the loaner at Ludlow and Associates, so I can meet you in Back Bay.”
“I’ll pick you up outside the Pru on Boylston. Let’s say three hours.”
“Fine. See you then.”
What did it say about her, she wondered, when the idea of meeting with her neighborhood pimp filled her with hopeful anticipation?
• • •
Fina returned the loaner car to the fleet manager and headed up to Scotty’s office. He waved her in and did an appropriate double take when she got close enough for him to register the damage on her face.
“Seriously?” he asked. He came around the desk and examined her face. Fina humored him for a moment, but then grabbed a diet soda from the bar and dug a few Advil out of her bag.
“Not a big deal,” she said, stifling a groan as she dropped down onto his couch.
“What happened?”
“Don’t act surprised. I told you someone was after me.”
“I thought you were going to hire a bodyguard.”
“I did, but it didn’t work out.”
He sat down next to her. “Why not?”
“What difference does it make? It didn’t work out, and things . . . happened.”
“Where else are you hurt?”
Fina lifted the hem of her shirt and showed him the kaleidoscope bruise that was creeping across her midriff.
“Jesus.” He reared back. “That looks terrible.”
“Thanks. It feels great.”
“Where did this happen?”
Fina took a sip of soda. If she told Scotty that it had happened in his backyard, he’d have apoplexy. “That’s not important. I’m interviewing a witness in a little while for Operation Stop Pedophile.”
“That’s great. Nothing like coming up with a code name for taking down our brother.”
“All great military offenses have catchy names. It helps rally the troops.”
“Good luck and be careful.”
“I don’t think a twenty-six-year-old female witness poses a real threat.”
“I was thinking more of Rand.”
“I’m always careful when it comes to him.”
She left without asking Scotty about Carl’s potential misdeeds, as she had Matthew. Scotty may be an attack dog in court, but she knew his soft heart wasn’t up for the discussion.
TWENTY-THREE
With time to kill before Dante’s arrival, Fina walked the few blocks to Newbury Street and Newbury Comics. Even if Kelsey DeMarco wasn’t working, it gave her the opportunity to stretch her legs and get some blood pumping. She’d learned over the years that movement hastened one’s recovery after a fight, even though curling up on the couch was a more appealing option.
Stepping into the store was like stepping back into her early teens, when she and her brothers frequented this outpost of cool. The store used to be the go-to spot for vinyl records, comic books, and music paraphernalia, but it had changed with the times and offered even more clothing and offbeat housewares than it had back in the day.
Some kind of noise was blasting from the speakers—an amalgamation of drums and screeching guitars that promised a migraine from extended exposure. A handful of shoppers were flipping through the stacks of records slotted into the display stands. A teenager was manning the register while a second balanced precariously on a ladder as he stapled posters to the wall.
“Hi,” Fina said to the boy behind the counter. His shaggy black hair hung over his eyes, and his chin was camouflaged with a swirling-patterned tattoo that crept from his neck to his lower lip. The lobes of his ears held gauges that had stretched the skin wide to accommodate large holes. Fina tried to avert her gaze from the self-mutilation. “I’m looking for Kelsey. Is she working today?”
“Kelsey!”
Fina turned toward the back of the store where he directed his hollering.
A moment later, a young woman emerged from between a beaded curtain, the decoration swaying in her wake.
“Yeah?” she asked.
“This lady wants to talk to you.” He gestured at Fina.
“What’s up?” Kelsey asked, and did an assessment of Fina’s attire. They were separated in age by less than ten years, but the difference between the two women was pronounced. Kelsey was whippet thin, her scrawny arms a map of veins and tattoos emerging from her black T-shirt. She wore black leggings and combat boots, and her nose and one eyebrow were adorned with silver hoops. The long blond hair from her babysitting days had been replaced by jet-black dreadlocks. Fina looked like a Republican soccer mom in comparison.
“You’re Kelsey DeMarco?” Fina asked.
“Uh-huh. Who are you?”
“Is there someplace we could talk privately?”
“I was doing stock in the back room. We can talk there.”
Fina followed her back through the beaded curtain, mesmerized by the tattooed serpent that seemed to undulate on Kelsey’s neck when she walked. They headed down a short hallway to arrive at a windowless room stacked with boxes, a few of which were open and spilling their contents.
“My name’s Fina.” She cleared off a stool and took a seat. “I’m friends with Risa Paquette.”
“Mrs. Paquette? I haven’t heard that name in a long time.”
“You used to babysit for her kids, right?”
“A little bit. I don’t babysit anymore if that’s why you’re here.” She pulled a heap of sweatshirts from a box and marked something down on a sheaf of papers.
“It’s not. I’m a private investigator, and I’m doing a background check on a man named Rand Ludlow.”
Kelsey’s pen slipped, and she made a blue line across the middle of the form.
“I’ve heard some things about him, some negative things, and I’m just trying to confirm that what I’ve heard is true.”
“Why are you doing a background check on him?” she asked, avoiding Fina’s gaze.
“My client has a business relationship with him, but is worried that he’s a liability.”
Kelsey didn’t speak. Instead, she grabbed a box cutter and thrust it into the seam of a box. It made a screeching sound as she pulled it through the packing tape.
“Whatever you tell me will be kept in confidence,” Fina said.
“Wasn’t he arrested for killing his wife?” Kelsey asked.
“He was, but he didn’t kill her. I’ve heard that he mistreats women in other ways.”
The young woman glared at her. “Why should I talk to you? I’ve never met you before.”
“I know I’m asking a lot, but Risa wondered if something had happened when you used to babysit for Haley Ludlow. Risa is a good person and wouldn’t send me here if she didn’t think it was important.”
“She seemed okay, but I didn’t really know her.”
“Okay. How about we trust each other?” Fina asked.
Kelsey smirked. “Like what? You want to fall back into my arms and see if I drop you?”
Fina chuckled. “God no, but what if I tell you a secret, and then you’ll know something about me. Something that I don’t want to become public knowledge.”
Kelsey shrugged.
“Rand Ludlow is my brother, and I’m not checking up on him for a business client. I’m trying to get dirt on him so he’ll be punished.”
“He’s your brother?” She put down the box cutter and hugged herself as if a chill had blown into the room.
“Yes, and I know that he sexually assaults women. You don’t need to worry that I won’t believe you. I know what he’s capable of.”
“Well, that would make you the first person to believe me.”
“Who else did you tell?”
“My mother.”
Fina sighed. “She didn’t believe you?”
“No. She thought I was making it up to get attention. Who makes up that kind of shit? Who wants that kind of attention?”
“Very few people.”
“Exactly. Sure, I had lied about other things, like missing my curfew and smoking pot, but I was a teenager. Lying about a neighborhood dad raping you is a whole other thing.”
Fina felt a familiar knot assert itself in her stomach. “Did it happen more than once?”
“Yes. He didn’t start with raping me, of course. He worked his way up, and it took me a while to figure out what the hell was going on.”
“So you told your mother, and she did nothing?”
“Yep. I finally just stopped babysitting for them and started spending as much time as I could away from my house. I couldn’t stand to be in the same room as her.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Kelsey reclaimed the box cutter and tore through another seam.
“Do you know if he assaulted anyone else?” Fina asked.
“Other babysitters you mean? Probably, but I never heard about it. It’s not something that you advertise.”
“Of course not.”
“So what are you going to do? Is that asshole actually going to get punished?”
“That’s my goal, but I don’t know what’s going to happen. Right now I’m just trying to put the pieces together.” Fina stood and pulled out her business card. “If you think of anything else or if I can be helpful in any way, let me know.”
Kelsey studied the card. “So much got fucked up because of him.”
“I know.”
“I’ve fantasized about blackmailing him. Making him pay.”
“Why haven’t you?”
“Because people like that always win.”
Fina started toward the door.
“I always felt badly about leaving Haley and not saying good-bye,” Kelsey said. “I liked taking care of her.”
Fina nodded and left the stockroom.
She’d assumed that building a case against Rand would make her happy, but with each new woman—each new story—all she felt was growing despair.
• • •
Dante pulled up to the curb too fast for Fina’s taste and slammed on the brakes. She went around to the driver’s side, and he stepped out, grinning.
“Wicked funny,” Fina said. “Did you drive like that all the way from Revere?”
“Maybe.” He pointed at her face. “Woo-hoo! What happened to you?”
“Just get in.” She adjusted the mirrors and seat. “Put on your seat belt,” she instructed Dante.
“I don’t like seat belts.”
“And I don’t like people’s brains on my dashboard.”
Dante reached back for the belt and nodded at a slip of paper in the cup holder. “The bill. I expect prompt payment.”
Fina glanced at it before pulling into traffic. “Eleven hundred bucks for tires?”
“That’s with a discount on the labor, so stop your bitching.”
“Where am I taking you?”
“Chinatown.”
She started down Boylston, struggling to put Kelsey out of her mind. “So you never told me if you know a guy named Jimmy Smith.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Dante, I left you a message about it. Glen Sullivan said that Jimmy Smith was the one who was gunning for me.”
“I don’t know him.”
“Well, could you put out some feelers and find him?”
Dante rubbed his chin with his hand as if stroking a nonexistent beard. His posture in the passenger seat was the epitome of man-spreading—legs wide as if to accommodate an oversized package.
“This situation is getting old.” Fina tapped her horn at the driver in front of her, who seemed to think
that a yellow light meant slow down, not speed up.
Dante sighed. “I’ll make some calls.”
They pulled up to a light, and Fina looked at him. Dante’s attention was trained on a pretty woman on the sidewalk.
“Now? Could you make the calls now?” she asked impatiently.
“No, I can’t make them now. I need privacy. Jesus, I don’t work for you.”
“Privacy? What is this? Pimp-hooker confidentiality?”
“Do you want me to do this for you or not?” he asked, his voice rising.
Fina took a deep breath. “Yes, please. Sorry.” She placed a hand on his arm. “I’m sore and stressed. Not a great combination.”
“Maybe you need to do a better job with your work/life balance.” His head was turned away from her, but Fina could see the hint of a smile.
“I’ll get right on that.”
Chinatown was clogged, its narrow streets no match for the car and pedestrian traffic. Dante directed her through the maze of dim sum places and fabric stores until they reached a nondescript two-story building with a Chinese pharmacy on the first floor. Fina bent down to get a better look.
“I can only imagine what you’re doing here.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head,” Dante said. “So, do you think the guy who came after you is done?”
“You tell me. How do these things work? Did I actually have to be hospitalized for the contract to be fulfilled?”
“Beats the hell out of me, but I wouldn’t let down your guard if I were you.” He climbed out.
“You’re going to get me some info, right?” she asked. “I need to find Jimmy Smith ASAP.”
“I don’t know the guy, Ludlow! I’ll do what I can, but no promises.”
“Get to it.”
“Damn, you’re impatient.”
“I’ve been called worse,” Fina said before he slammed the door closed.
Her impatience was a function of wiring and environment, and it had served her well.
Growing up, if she’d waited to be given what she needed by Carl and Elaine, she would have been waiting her whole life.
• • •
Fina was missing some of the neighborhood association minutes—assuming the group met every month—so she decided to stop by Evan’s house to see if she could fill in the gaps. The driveway was empty, and her knock on the door went unanswered. Walking back to her car, Fina realized that Ronnie McCaffrey might be able to help.