Brutality

by Ingrid Thoft

  “But there’s usually at least one Chatty Cathy, and if there isn’t, no big deal.” Fina grinned. “I’ll pay you either way.”

  “You bet you will, sweetie.” Frank looked at Peg. “What do you think? Are you up for a little day trip?”

  “I suppose it can’t be postponed until leaf peeping starts?” Peg asked hopefully.

  “We’ve got a ticking clock, Nurse Gillis,” Fina said.

  Peg grinned. “Why not? Sounds like fun.”

  “You could stay overnight, my treat,” Fina suggested. “Make a romantic weekend of it.”

  Frank’s eyes lit up. “Sold!”

  —

  Fina was distracted when she got in her car and didn’t notice the piece of paper on the passenger seat until she was a few streets away from the Gillis house. She kept her car relatively tidy and didn’t remember leaving anything there. At a stoplight she scanned it; a lump caught in her throat. The annoyed driver behind her sat on his horn until she pulled over to examine it more closely.

  It was a piece of plain white paper, and scrawled in a childish hand was:

  FUCK YOU MIND YOURE OWN BUSSINESS BITCH

  The poor grammar, spelling, and lack of punctuation were upsetting enough, but knowing that someone had been in her car was even more alarming. She knew that the note hadn’t been there when she’d arrived at Frank and Peg’s. Reaching over, Fina confirmed that the doors were locked. She looked around, but there were no cars idling nearby. It was an awful feeling, realizing that someone had been in your personal space, but it was even worse to think they’d been near the people you love.

  “You miss me already, hon?” Frank asked when he answered the phone.

  “Always, but I’m calling to give you a heads-up.”

  “What’s happened in the four minutes since you left here?”

  “I think someone’s keeping an eye on me, so you should be extra careful.”

  There was a long pause at his end of the line.

  “What happened?” Frank asked.

  “I’m fine, really, but I would be remiss if I didn’t suggest you and Peg keep an eye out.”

  “I need some specifics.”

  “I don’t have any,” Fina insisted. “Can you just be careful? I considered not saying anything at all, but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do.”

  “This makes me very uneasy, Fina.”

  “Yeah, you and me both.”

  “You worry so much about my heart,” Frank said. “But this sort of conversation is much more detrimental than a little snow shoveling.”

  “Frank, c’mon.” She knew he was right, but it was the life she had chosen.

  “Fine, but promise you’ll keep me in the loop.”

  “I will.”

  “And text me to let me know you got home safely.”

  “Promise.”

  Back home, Fina wrapped her hand around her gun for the elevator ride upstairs. She made sure the condo was clear, then texted Frank and got ready for bed, her gun never out of reach. She laid it on her bedside table, but sleep didn’t come easily.

  Was the note connected to the sedan with tinted windows? Was it unrelated? Did she have two threats to worry about? Who had she pissed off this time?

  11.

  Fina wasn’t prepared for the text message she got the next morning. In between spam for a sweepstakes and a plea from Haley to take her shopping was a brief entry from Bobbi Barone: They were going to take Liz off life support sometime that day.

  Fina sat down at the dining room table, her phone gripped in her hand. She gazed out the large windows overlooking the harbor and Logan. Planes glinted in the cold January sunlight as they inched along the tarmac before barreling down the runway. People died every day, but it was rare that you woke up knowing that on this particular day, this particular person was going to die. Death sucked, whether or not you had advance notice.

  Fina wanted to drop some kind of offering by the Barone-Gottlieb household. She knew that everyone brought food on these occasions; they would be drowning in a sea of lasagna, sweet rolls, and deli platters. She ruminated about the right gift while she showered and ate and decided finally to stop by a bookstore on the way to Hyde Park. Liz’s kids probably needed distraction more than calories right about now.

  There were no bogeymen in her car or lurking near the bookstore, so Fina tried to put last night’s warning out of her head. She’d be more vigilant, but she couldn’t let it distract her from the case, despite the note writer’s best effort.

  When Fina pulled up to Liz’s house two hours later, Kelly Wegner was climbing out of her minivan in the driveway. She was laden with foil-covered casserole dishes confirming that Fina’s choice of books and stuffed animals had been a good one.

  “Kelly, let me help,” Fina said, jogging over and taking the dishes from her as Kelly rummaged in her purse.

  “Thanks,” Kelly said. She fished out a set of keys and opened the front door. Fina put the dishes down on the floor and returned to her car for the kids’ gift baskets. Back inside, Kelly had already shed her boots and coat and was banging around in the kitchen.

  “Kelly? I don’t want to track slush in the house,” Fina called out.

  Kelly emerged from the kitchen with a dish towel in hand. Her approach gave Fina the opportunity to take stock of her appearance, which, quite frankly, was awful.

  “You look exhausted,” Fina said. “I hate it when people tell me that, but are you getting any sleep? You can’t help Jamie and the kids if you wear yourself out.”

  “I know. I’m trying, but I’m just not sleeping well.” Her blond bob looked flat and unwashed, and dark circles under her eyes underscored her fatigue.

  “That’s understandable,” Fina said. “I don’t want to intrude, but I wanted to drop these off for the kids.” She gestured toward the baskets, which she’d placed on the floor.

  “Oh, that’s so nice. They’ll love them.”

  “Well, who knows, but maybe it will distract them a little.”

  Kelly stared at the baskets.

  “Kelly?”

  She didn’t respond. She seemed to be in a fog.

  “Kelly?” Fina repeated. Kelly looked at her. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  She shook her head as if clearing out the cobwebs. “No, thank you. It’s just . . .” She trailed off.

  “What?”

  “I just can’t even think about it.”

  Fina assumed that Kelly had been updated on Liz’s status, but she wasn’t sure, and it didn’t seem like her news to share if she hadn’t.

  “Well, if you need something or think of something useful to the case, you know where to reach me.” Fina put her hand on the doorknob.

  “What?” Kelly looked confused.

  “The case. I’m still trying to find the person who did this to Liz.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I can’t think straight.”

  Fina reached out and squeezed her arm. “Take care of yourself.”

  “I will.” Kelly smiled faintly. “Thanks, Fina. It was really sweet of you to get the kids something.”

  “It’s the least I can do,” she said, pulling the door closed behind her.

  Had this been a TV show, Fina would have promised Kelly that she would bring Liz’s killer to justice, but she’d learned early on in her career to avoid such promises. She would always do her best to solve a case, but there were too many variables beyond her control to promise a particular outcome. And nobody wanted to hear that she would try really hard. This wasn’t kindergarten; you didn’t get a prize for trying.

  —

  Why are we meeting here?” the young woman asked Kevin later that afternoon.

  “What’s wrong with it?” he asked, grinning.

  She wrinkled her nose and slid into th
e booth next to him. “It’s kind of seedy.”

  “It’s not that bad,” he said, planting a kiss on her lips. She grabbed hold of his lapels and extended the kiss. When she pulled away from him, she had a big smile on her face.

  Kevin blotted his mouth with a napkin and looked around the restaurant. It was a Chinese place he used to frequent when he was younger, a windowless space in a strip mall in Watertown. The establishment split once you were through the front door: a dining room with tables on one side and a bar with TVs and a cloudy fish tank on the other. The food was the typical greasy American interpretation of Chinese food, but nobody came here for the food. They came for the anonymity and the stiff drinks.

  “Are you hungry?” Kevin asked.

  She picked up the menu and flipped through the plastic-coated pages. “I really shouldn’t eat this stuff.”

  “I’m sure they could steam some vegetables for you.”

  “Are you eating?”

  “Let’s get a pu pu platter,” Kevin said, and gestured to the bored-looking young man standing by the front desk. “Can we get a pu pu platter and two head hunters, please?”

  The waiter made a note on his small pad and disappeared through a swinging door into the kitchen.

  “So, how are you?” Kevin asked the young woman, stretching his arm behind her on the booth.

  “I’m good.” She shrugged. “The same as usual.”

  Kevin didn’t have the longest attention span in the world, but he still hadn’t tired of looking at her. She was pretty, in a wholesome, all-American way. She had long brown hair and hazel eyes, and her teeth were white and straight. Her left eyebrow was interrupted by a small scar, but that only added to her appeal. She was unique-looking, but didn’t deviate too far from the standard of beauty. It went without saying that her body was amazing; he wouldn’t be doing this with someone who didn’t knock his socks off.

  “How are you doing?” she asked seductively, leaning in to nibble on his bottom lip.

  The waiter put down two drinks in faux coconuts, each with an umbrella and a striped straw.

  Kevin took a long sip before speaking. “I’m good, but something’s come up that we need to talk about.”

  She sipped her drink and looked at him.

  “There’s some stuff going on, and in the interest of being cautious, we need to take a step back.”

  She blinked slowly and put down her drink. “What’s going on?”

  “There are some things happening in the media and the administration, and the athletic program may get some extra attention.”

  “But what does that have to do with us? We always try to keep a low profile.”

  “I know. We need to be extra careful right now.”

  “Why?” she asked. “We’re not doing anything illegal, and if some people don’t approve, who cares?”

  Kevin took her hand in his. “We both should care. We need to do what’s right for our relationship in the long term, not just what feels good today.”

  She sat back against the booth, a pout emerging on her face. This was one of the downsides to youth—an inability to compromise or delay gratification.

  Kevin took a long drink of his head hunter and dropped his hand down to her knee. He rubbed it for a moment. The waiter returned to their table bearing a faux wooden dish with various small compartments surrounding a blue flame.

  “Pu pu platter,” he announced, and left.

  Kevin spun the dish around to examine the offerings before grabbing a fried wonton and dipping it into a dish of duck sauce. “Umm. That’s good. Here, try one,” he said, placing one on her plate.

  “So what does that mean exactly, ‘take a step back’?” she asked, crunching on the fried tidbit.

  “Just that we should see a little less of each other and meet in places where we’re less apt to run into anyone I know.”

  “Places like this?” She gestured toward the mural on the wall that depicted some version of Shangri-la.

  “It’s just temporary.” Kevin gnawed on a sparerib, licking the sweet sticky sauce off his fingers.

  “Are you going to make it up to me?” the young woman asked.

  Kevin smiled his winning smile and kissed her deeply, the grease and sauce lubricating their lips. “I promise.”

  “You better,” she said, gnawing on a chicken wing like a vulture.

  —

  Cristian didn’t answer his phone, so Fina left a message and checked her voice mail. She returned a call from Hal and offered to stop by his place to get an update. Fina had never been to Hal’s home and was impressed when she pulled up to a well-maintained Victorian a few blocks from Porter Square in Cambridge. There were two front doors on the porch. Fina knocked on the left-hand door and waited a moment before there was a shadow behind the curtain-covered window.

  “Hi, Fina,” Hal said. He stepped back into a small hallway that opened into the living room, which boasted three large bay windows. The shiny wood floor was partially covered by an Oriental rug and a couch in a neutral microfiber. That room flowed into what was supposed to be the dining room. Hal had repurposed the space for his office; there was a desk pushed against one wall, its surface dominated by two large computer monitors. Beyond this was an open-plan kitchen that was tidy and bright. A hallway off the kitchen probably led to the bathroom and bedrooms.

  “Let me take your coat,” Hal offered.

  Fina took off her outerwear and handed it to Hal. He hung it on a coatrack near the front door.

  “Have a seat,” he said, directing her to the couch.

  “I like your place, Hal. It’s very bright and cheery.”

  “Thanks.” He beamed. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No, I’m good, thanks.”

  Hal grabbed a laptop from his desk and joined her on the sofa. On the side table, there was a scattering of photos featuring Hal and a young girl. She looked to be about five years old.

  “Is this your daughter?” Fina asked, picking up the photo.

  “Yup. That’s Sarah.”

  “How did I not know you have a daughter?” Fina wondered.

  “I don’t usually talk about her with clients. Some of the people I do business with, I’d rather they not know about her.”

  Fina nodded. Haley had been targeted by a creep during her last investigation, and she understood the inclination to protect one’s family. It was hard enough protecting Haley from her own father; Fina tried to avoid external threats whenever possible.

  “Does she live with you?” she asked.

  “Every other weekend and Wednesday nights,” Hal said. He looked at the photos and smiled.

  “She’s really cute,” Fina said. “You know, I can get tickets to most everything that comes to the Garden. I’m getting Disney on Ice tickets for Cristian and his son. If you ever want to take Sarah to something, let me know.”

  Hal thought about it for a moment. “You know what she’d love? That Irish clog-dancing group. If they come to town again, I’ll take you up on that.”

  “You are a good dad,” Fina said. “That show seems like a guaranteed migraine.”

  Hal shrugged. “She loves all kinds of dance.”

  “I will keep my eyes open and let you know.” Fina sat back against the couch cushions. “What do you have for me?”

  “I’m still working on the finances of that couple,” he said, “but I did poke around the NEU lab.”

  “Okay.”

  Hal clicked a few keys on his laptop. “NEU is a private school, so they don’t get any tax money for support.”

  Fina nodded.

  “They depend on the annual fund and other donations for most of their operating budget, but the labs get government and private support in the form of grants and other charitable programs.”

  “Did you get a sense of the
financial health of the Schaefer Lab?”

  “Their budget seems pretty tight, but that’s not unusual for a research facility.”

  “Was there anything that jumped out at you?” Fina asked.

  He scooched forward on the couch. “I did come across one thing that was interesting.”

  Hal loved reporting his findings, and time willing, Fina tried not to rush him. It seemed to be one of the highlights of his job.

  “So there’s a big grant given out by a consortium of pharmaceutical companies every five years to support long-term studies,” he explained. “The Schaefer Lab was on the short list of finalists this year, but didn’t get the grant.”

  “How long was the short list?” she asked. “Presumably there were other labs that also lost out.”

  “There were five other labs that didn’t get funding, but what was interesting was the chatter, for lack of a better word, that I found on some scientific forums.”

  “What kind of chatter?” Fina asked.

  “Rumor has it that there was some internal conflict at the Schaefer Lab that had an impact on their application. A couple of people were suggesting it’s the reason the lab wasn’t awarded funding. It sounded like it was theirs to lose, and they did.”

  “So it wasn’t just a matter of it being a tough break, but they did everything they could. Better luck next time. That sort of thing?”

  “That’s not what it sounded like, but you never know. They may just be sore losers,” Hal said.

  “Did any names come up?” Fina asked. “Was there anyone in particular being blamed?”

  “No, but that didn’t surprise me. These boards usually have a lot of innuendo and few facts.”

  “Doesn’t mean they’re inaccurate,” Fina noted.

  “No, but they should be taken with a grain of salt. Does this make any sense in the context of your case?” He looked hopeful.

  “I think so. It’s definitely a good lead.” Fina gazed at the plants crowding the sills of the bay windows. They looked healthy, their leaves deep green and shiny. Fina had never had much luck with houseplants. Even the ones that were supposed to be impervious to a brown thumb had succumbed under her care, or lack thereof. “Which pharmaceutical companies are part of the consortium that gives out the grant?” She decided not to name Barnes Kaufcan specifically; sometimes it was good to see what Hal found on his own, without any prompting.