Duplicity

by Ingrid Thoft

  “I’m surprised Nadine would give to a cause other than Covenant Rising.”

  “So am I, to be honest, but Christa says that’s what she wanted.”

  “Well, that’s wonderful for McKenna. That cat’s looking great,” Fina told Molly.

  “My cat’s going to be called Snowball.”

  “Is that so?” Fina asked her, giving Evan a look. He shook his head lightly.

  “Uh-huh,” Molly said.

  Fina stood, and Evan followed her to the door. “A neighbor’s cat died, and now she’s obsessed with getting one.”

  “She sees her chance?”

  “Exactly. At least cats don’t need to be walked.”

  “This is true, although, I do see people in my neighborhood with cats in strollers.”

  “Seriously?”

  Fina nodded. “Thanks for letting me borrow those papers.”

  “Sure. Let me know if you find something out.”

  “Will do.”

  She climbed into her car and sat for a moment before turning the key.

  Christa had told her that she’d asked Nadine for a loan, but Nadine had turned her down. Was that the loan intended for McKenna’s tuition? Had Nadine had a change of heart or was Christa pulling a fast one on Evan?

  Fina was confused.

  But confusion wasn’t always a bad thing; it usually meant that someone wasn’t telling the truth.

  • • •

  Greg sat behind the desk in his home office, waiting for Gabby to appear. He’d asked one of the women from the fellowship committee to take the girls to her house for dinner so that he and his wife would have a block of uninterrupted time. The Bible before him was open to Proverbs 6:16.

  Gabby strode into the room and took the seat across from him. She was wearing yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt that exposed her tanned shoulder.

  “I need to pick up the girls,” she said.

  “I’ve arranged for Mrs. Teeson to drop them off.”

  Gabby made a face. “Since when do you arrange playdates?”

  “Since I feel compelled to schedule time with my wife to discuss her behavior.”

  Her eyes widened, not in an expression of disbelief, but rather one of challenge. She folded her hands on her lap in a pose of pious subservience.

  “I want to read a piece of scripture first.” Greg took a sip of water from the glass on his desk and began. “‘There are six things that the Lord hates, seven that are an abomination to him: haughty eyes, a lying tongue, and hands that shed innocent blood, a heart that devises wicked plans, feet that make haste to run to evil, a false witness who breathes out lies, and one who sows discord among brothers.’ Are you familiar with that quote?”

  “Of course. Proverbs 6:16.”

  Greg smiled at her. “I know that you love the Lord, Gabby, and I know that there is goodness in your heart, but I’ve heard things that worry me. I’ve heard that you are spreading gossip and even breaking a commandment.”

  “And you believe these rumors?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest and sitting back in the chair.

  “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “I’m your wife, Greg. Your partner. You’re supposed to believe me over anyone else.”

  He closed the Bible. “I want to believe you.”

  “Then do.” She started to rise from her chair.

  “We’re not done.”

  Gabby lowered herself back down.

  “Whether or not I believe you is one issue. There’s a second issue.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The accusations are coming from Lucas.”

  “Of course they are.” Gabby sneered. “He is such a teacher’s pet.”

  “And you’re sloppy.” The grin slid from Greg’s face. “What were you thinking putting us in a position of vulnerability?”

  Gabby’s mouth was set in a line. “Maybe you should be less worried about me and more worried about him. I’m trying to protect the church. Lucas is just gossiping and stirring up trouble.”

  “That’s not what he says.”

  “All he cares about is being your lapdog; that’s his first priority. If he really cared about you and the church, he wouldn’t be gossiping and troubling you with this garbage.”

  Greg rubbed a hand over his chin. “I’m not convinced that Lucas is the only problem.”

  Gabby stood up and walked to the door. Her trim legs looked like ostrich legs sticking out from her billowing top. “Remember, Greg, there’s a line of people waiting to fill his spot, but I’m a little tougher to replace,” she said before walking out.

  Greg didn’t doubt that Gabby had tattled on Lucas to Fina. He knew that her tongue could be sharp, especially when she felt threatened, but he didn’t want to believe that she was violating their marriage vows.

  If she was, there would be hell to pay—for all of them.

  • • •

  Fina couldn’t sit still. She tried to lie on the couch and watch TV, but then she’d get antsy and do a lap of the condo. It was 10:23 p.m., and she still hadn’t heard from Travis Whalen.

  “Sit down,” Milloy urged her. “You’re stressing me out.”

  She returned to the couch and rotated her head on her neck. Her not-so-subtle play worked, and he reached over and massaged her shoulders.

  “Jesus, you’re tied up in knots.”

  “I know. I need a massage.”

  Milloy turned to face her. “Just tell me when you want one, and I’ll put it on my calendar. It isn’t complicated.”

  “Our schedules are complicated.”

  “I think we can figure it out if we put our minds to it, but you have to have the will to make it happen.”

  “Oh, right there,” Fina said, directing him to a particularly troublesome spot. “My ability to plan ahead has been compromised recently.”

  “By?”

  “By this case and the threats against me. I just want to get through this stuff, and then I’ll regroup.”

  “Yeah, but there’s always something.”

  “Sure, but I’m going to pretend that’s not the case.”

  “Good plan.” His thumb dug into her shoulder.

  “Ow.”

  They were watching SportsCenter when Fina’s phone rang ten minutes later.

  “This is Fina.”

  “It’s Travis. There’s a packie on the corner of Mills and State. Meet me there in twenty minutes.”

  “I’ll have a guy with me, but he’s cool.”

  “This isn’t a group event.”

  “And I’m not meeting some guy I don’t know at the liquor store at eleven p.m. by myself. Do you think I’m a total idiot?”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “How will I know it’s you?”

  “I’ll be smoking.” Travis ended the call.

  “He really is a man of few words,” Fina said, pushing herself off the couch. She retrieved her holster from the chair where she’d hung it and put it on. “Let’s go.”

  • • •

  Travis Whalen was leaning against the window of the liquor store smoking a cigarette. He was just shy of six feet with a thick build. Fina couldn’t be sure if his girth was due to fat or muscle, but he looked formidable regardless.

  “Travis?” she asked, taking a wild guess.

  “Yeah?” He eyed her up and down. Fina put her hands on her hips, providing a peek at her gun.

  “Can we go somewhere to talk?” she said. “I’m not wild about hanging around outside the packie.”

  Travis dropped his cigarette to the sidewalk and ground it out with his scuffed white sneaker. He left it there, which irritated her. How hard is it to pick up your litter?

  Pushing himself off the wall, he started down the street. Fina and Mil
loy fell in step behind him.

  The neighborhood was quiet at this time of night. Not many people lived there relative to Back Bay and Beacon Hill. A few restaurants and bars were open, but much of the street-level retail was devoted to cafés and lunch places that closed when the business day ended. It felt eerie.

  Travis turned a corner into an alley.

  “Oh, this is much better,” Fina said under her breath. Milloy looked at her. “Hey, Travis? I was talking about someplace more public, not less.”

  He stopped and turned to face her. “Do you want to see Jimmy Smith or what?”

  “Yes, please,” she responded, and scowled when he turned his back.

  In the middle of the alley, a set of stairs led down to the basement level and what looked to be a bar. An illuminated Miller Lite sign cast a glow on the stone steps. Travis started down, turning his body sideways in order to plant his entire foot on each tier.

  Fina followed and hooked her fingers over the pocket of her jeans near her gun. Milloy brought up the rear.

  The door had a small window at eye level. Travis pulled on the knob, and it swung open to reveal a dark room that reeked of beer and body odor.

  “Don’t say it,” Fina warned Milloy.

  “You always take me to the nicest places,” he murmured, grinning.

  Fina surveyed the space and couldn’t figure out if it was a business or a private club. There were tables and chairs, a jukebox, and a small bar with pleather stools that looked like they belonged in a 1970s basement.

  She scanned the room and the dozen or so men in it. There were a few at the bar who looked three sheets to the wind. The others were drinking at tables, engrossed in their conversations.

  “So,” Fina asked. “Which one is he?”

  Travis nodded toward a table at the back of the room where two guys who looked to be in their twenties were sitting.

  Fina took a step in their direction. As she closed in on the table, one of them looked up and made eye contact. He had bruises under his eyes, and a piece of white tape covered the bridge of his nose. He jumped up, his chair clattering to the floor. Looking past Fina, he must have spotted Milloy, because he turned toward the back of the room and bolted through a swinging door.

  “Dammit!” Fina yelled and took off after him.

  He sprinted through a small, dingy kitchen and slammed open a metal door. Halfway up a set of steep stairs, Fina reached out and grabbed his pant leg, but he shook her off and sent her tumbling back into Milloy. She regained her footing, and they clambered after him.

  On the street they swiveled their heads, searching. The slam of a car door drew their attention to the spot where the alley intersected with another. Fina watched as her assailant drove off. She sprinted after the car, hoping to catch the plate, but it turned the corner before she could register any of the letters or numbers.

  “Fuck!” she hollered, bending over with her hands on her knees. “I’m going to kill Travis.”

  “Sorry I wasn’t any help,” Milloy said as she strode past him on her way back to the bar.

  “I just wanted to talk to the guy. If I’d thought he was going to run, I would have had you cover the back.”

  Fina banged open the door leading to the kitchen. A young man in dishwashing whites was sitting on the counter, smoking a joint. She didn’t suppose the health department made many visits.

  Back in the main room, Travis was shooting the shit with the bartender, a beer in one hand.

  “What the hell was that?” Fina asked.

  Conversation in the bar quieted.

  Travis turned toward her slowly. “What?”

  “I wanted to talk to the guy.”

  Travis rotated back to the bar and stared at the TV on the counter. “I guess he didn’t want to talk to you.”

  Fina plucked the beer from his hand and grabbed his wrist. She twisted his arm out and behind his back until Travis yelped in pain.

  “Where can I find him?”

  Milloy reached over the bar and grabbed the bartender’s hand as he reached for a bat.

  “Thank you,” Fina told him.

  “I’m going to call the cops!” one of the old drunks declared.

  “Please do,” she hollered back. “That would be most helpful.”

  Travis grunted, his face reddening.

  “I will break your arm,” Fina said, applying more pressure. “It will be the highlight of my week.”

  “He works at the print shop on Wellington,” he spit out.

  “When he isn’t beating the shit out of people?” Fina released him, and he crumpled over, grasping his wrist. “Why didn’t you just tell me that in the first place, you fuckwit?” Fina asked.

  Travis shot her a venomous look. He took a step toward her and raised his fist, but Fina saw it coming. She blocked his punch and struck him on the forehead with her open palm.

  “Come on, Sugar Ray,” Milloy said. “Let’s go.” He nudged her toward the front door.

  “That was a waste,” Fina said when they were back on the street.

  “You got the location of the guy.”

  “Exactly. Instead of the actual guy.”

  “You’ll get him tomorrow.”

  “Minus the element of surprise.”

  “No offense, but I don’t think this is going to drive him out of town.”

  “Offense taken,” Fina said, reaching out and playfully squeezing his neck.

  They both stayed alert for the walk home just in case Travis or Jimmy decided they still had business to attend to.

  At least Fina had finally found the guy who attacked her, not just a guy who had information.

  The only question that remained was who was footing the bill.

  TWENTY-NINE

  Fina awoke itching to make progress, but when she called the print shop using a burner, she learned that Jimmy Smith was off for the weekend. Instead, she got dressed and drove to Framingham.

  Christa Jackson was unloading groceries from the back of her car when she pulled up.

  “Let me help,” Fina said, hefting a bag onto each hip.

  Christa eyed her warily, but seemed to decide that it was more trouble to reject than accept the offer.

  Once inside the house, they took the bags into the kitchen and placed them on the table next to the Globe. Christa didn’t invite her to sit down, so Fina leaned against the counter and watched her unpack the bags.

  “You have more questions?” Christa asked, shoving two boxes of frozen waffles into the freezer.

  “I’m going to have questions until I answer the big question, which is, who killed your cousin?”

  “Okay, but I have nothing new to tell you.”

  “I heard that congratulations are in order.”

  Christa grabbed a perspiring gallon of milk, her fingertips slipping slightly on the damp surface. “What are you talking about?”

  “McKenna got accepted to Graymoore.”

  Christa frowned. “That’s right. We’re very proud of her.”

  “As you should be,” Fina commented.

  “That’s got nothing to do with Nadine.”

  Fina leaned her hand on the counter, but drew back. Her palm was tender from the blow she’d given Travis Whalen. “Actually, it kind of does. Evan told me that he’s providing some money for tuition, which is curious. I thought you asked Nadine for that money, and she turned you down.”

  Christa stopped moving, a can of baked beans in each hand. “She changed her mind.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup.” Christa placed the cans in a cabinet and slammed the door closed.

  “’Cause it looks to me like you didn’t get the money, then Nadine died, and then you did get the money.”

  “You think I killed her for tuition money?” she asked, her hands on her hip
s.

  Fina shrugged.

  “This is good news for my family. Please don’t twist it into something nasty.”

  “So my interpretation of events isn’t accurate?”

  Christa pulled a carton of eggs from one of the grocery bags and flipped open the top. One had been smashed in its little cardboard nest, the yolk smeared over the other shells. Christa blew out her breath in annoyance and took the eggs to the sink. “It’s an interpretation. That’s all. Just because things happened in a certain order doesn’t mean they’re connected.”

  “No, but you definitely benefitted from Nadine’s death.”

  “Except for the fact that my cousin died.”

  “Right, the cousin who had once planned a future with the man who became your husband.”

  Christa ran the water and began plucking the intact eggs out of the carton. “The cousin who married a nice guy and was going to start a family of her own.”

  “So you say.”

  “Fina, either you need to prove something or you need to leave us alone,” Christa insisted, rinsing the sticky yolk off the eggs and placing them in a bowl. She wiped her hands on a dish towel.

  “All righty. Will do.”

  Christa placed the bowl of eggs in the refrigerator and looked toward the front door, which Fina assumed was her cue to leave. She pushed herself off the counter, the newspaper catching her eye as she did.

  “Is that today’s paper?” Fina asked.

  Christa gave her a strange look. “Yes. Why?”

  “Just wondering.”

  Fina sat in her car, racking her brain. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against the steering wheel, trying to will the pieces to fall into place. After a few frustrating minutes that resulted in no greater clarity, she started the car and snaked through the streets to Route 9.

  With the hum of the road beneath her, finally something clicked.

  • • •

  Greg hadn’t slept well.

  He kept coming back to his conversations with Lucas and Gabby and the holy mess they had created. He supposed that their behavior was just another test from God, another indication that Greg was up to the tough job of leading a large, successful church. Trials were part of the deal. Some people might assume that trials indicated the absence of God, but he believed otherwise. The good Lord was testing Greg, making sure he was ready for bigger and better things.