by Ingrid Thoft
Loud laughter echoed down the hall, and a moment later, three enormous young men wandered by the door to the training room.
“Yo, Laff!” one of them exclaimed.
Kevin’s face brightened at the greeting, and he went out to the hallway, where he traded high fives and man hugs with the three football players. He’d been given the nickname years ago by some student athletes. The moniker had started as a joke, but over time, it had evolved into a term of affection.
Two of the kids—and they were kids to Kevin—were black and one white, but more divisive than their skin color were their physiques. The white guy and one of the black kids were clearly linemen; they were fat, not just muscular, their bellies flopping over their waistbands. Their rear ends were gelatinous masses that strained the seams of their tight football pants. The other one was tall, muscular, and lean. Even Kevin could appreciate his body—not that he was into that sort of thing. The torso exposed by his cutoff T-shirt was rippled and looked like sand after the tide had gone out: firmly packed and dense.
“You see the news, man?” one of them asked. “’Bout that dumbass lawsuit?”
Kevin nodded. “You guys shouldn’t be thinking about that. You should be focusing on training.”
“They better not pay out using our cash. We get beaten up for that money, man. We’ve earned it.”
“And a soccer player?” the fat white kid piped up. “The girls’ soccer team is going to tell us how to play football?”
“Don’t worry about it, fellas,” Kevin reassured them. “You just focus on the team. All the rest of it is bullshit.”
“Later, Laff.” They performed their awkward straight-man farewell ritual—physical contact, but not too much and not below the waist—and wandered off.
“Kevin?” A man poked his head out of an office down the hallway. “Do you have a minute?” Don Messinger was the assistant director of NEU’s athletic program, and they’d known each other for more than twenty years. The men got along okay, but they were never really friends. Don always seemed too tightly wound. Kevin took competition just as seriously as Don, but believed that celebrations and fun should also be a part of the equation.
“Sure, Don. What can I do for you?” Kevin came into the office, which was small, but had a window overlooking the practice fields.
Don gestured for him to close the door. The motion should have made him feel important, but instead, it made him feel like a child called in to the principal’s office. Rather than wait for a directive, Kevin chose to sit on the couch instead of the chair in front of Don’s desk.
“I’ve been touching base with all the coaches and athletic staff in light of Liz Barone’s death and this lawsuit,” Don said, gazing at Kevin over his half-frame glasses. They made him look more like a professor than a jock.
“It’s a hell of a thing,” Kevin said, shaking his head. He spread his arms across the back of the couch.
“There’s probably going to be a lot of press, and everybody needs to be on their best behavior. I need you to spread the word to the boosters,” Don said.
“Of course. You don’t need to worry about the club. I’ll make sure people are behaving.”
Don stared at him. “Everybody needs to behave.”
Kevin didn’t ask for specifics. Whatever Don knew or thought he knew, Kevin didn’t want any details.
“Absolutely,” Kevin said, rising from the couch. “Some of the guys mentioned the lawsuit just now. I tried to reassure them that it’s nothing to worry about.”
“Good. I don’t want them to be distracted or mouthing off.”
“You know I’ll do whatever I can. Take care, Don.” Kevin opened the door and walked back down the hallway to the training room.
The lawsuit angered him, but it also gave him a burst of energy. NEU athletics needed him now more than ever, and he was raring to go.
16.
Fina woke early and spent over an hour catching up on the news related to Liz’s death and performing the administrative duties associated with being a business owner. Although most of her work came from Ludlow and Associates, she was technically self-employed and was in charge of keeping her own records. Frank had taught her that the only way to manage paperwork and other administrative tasks was to do them regularly. It always felt like it was taking her away from more pressing—and interesting—matters, but if the cops or the IRS ever came knocking, she would be ready.
Her work was interrupted by a summons from Carl.
“I could have given you an update over the phone,” she told her father an hour later at the office. Carl looked dapper in a dark charcoal suit paired with a light blue shirt and a tie sporting blue and lavender stripes. “You look very nice, Dad.” It couldn’t hurt to start the morning with a kind word.
He eyed her suspiciously. “Thank you.”
“So why am I here?”
“I do want an update, but that’s not why I called you.” Carl pointed a pen at her.
“What is it, then? I have work to do.”
“I need you to babysit Scotty today.”
“He’s older than I am,” Fina pointed out helpfully.
Carl ignored her. “He has a deposition in Lynn, and I want you to go with him.”
“Why?” Fina asked. “Is he in danger?”
“No, but the client is jumpy, and your presence will reassure her,” Carl said.
“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? I have things to do today. Let me call Dennis Kozlowski. He can do it, or one of his subs can.” Dennis was a PI in Boston who Fina used when she needed an extra pair of hands. He was good at his job and well connected.
“Because I want you to do it,” Carl said.
Fina looked at her father. “You know, you complain about my job performance pretty frequently, and yet you keep employing me.”
“I don’t have time for this, Josefina.”
“Fine. Is the client here or are we meeting her?”
“She’s here. Scotty’s waiting for you.”
“Great.” Fina stood up. “What’s this I hear about Rand having a new girlfriend and wanting Haley to visit?”
Carl looked at her, but didn’t speak.
“What?” Fina asked. “You have nothing to say on the subject?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“That you’re not going to let him get within a mile of her, given his past behavior.”
“I don’t think we can keep them separated forever, Fina.”
“We can keep them separated until she’s an adult and can make her own decisions,” she said. “You’ve just ordered me to change my whole day. Why can’t you order Mom to butt out of Haley’s life?”
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” Carl’s phone rang. “I have to take this.”
“We’re not done talking about this,” Fina said, moving toward the door.
Carl rolled his eyes and reached for the phone. “Don’t take your car,” Carl called after her. “Take an SUV from the fleet.”
“Fine.”
Fina got a set of car keys from the head of security, then stopped by Scotty’s office. The client was a small woman embroiled in a personal injury case with some mafioso types. Fina understood why she might want protection, but it still felt like a waste of her time.
Muscle was easy to hire, but the brains that solved cases like Liz’s were harder to come by.
—
That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Scotty asked. It was late afternoon, and they were at Bell Circle in Revere. The deposition had been completed without any physical violence, and the client had gotten a ride home with a muscular friend who looked like he could hold his own.
“It was fine,” Fina said. “It just wasn’t what I planned on doing today.”
“You could have said no to Dad,” Scotty ventured, smirk
ing.
“Like you do?”
“It’s different for me,” he said. “We have a more complicated business arrangement.”
“Uh-huh. Did you know that Rand has a new girlfriend?” she asked her brother.
Scotty turned and looked at her, his eyes wide. “What? Really?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you that?”
“Who do you think?” Fina asked.
Scotty sighed. “Mom.”
“Of course. And he wants Haley to visit him over spring break.”
Scotty leaned over and adjusted the heat. “What did you say to that?” They were climbing the ramp toward the Tobin Bridge, the city coming into view before them.
“I haven’t said anything yet, but you can be damn sure it’s not going to happen.”
Scotty tapped the window lightly with his finger, but was quiet.
“Yes? You’d like to say something?” Fina asked.
“I just don’t know how much we’re going to be able to manage Rand.”
“I’m not suggesting we manage Rand. I’m suggesting we take care of his underage daughter.”
“I am taking care of his underage daughter, Fina. Remember?” Scotty said.
“Yes, I know, and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate that you and Patty have embraced her the way you have.”
“I love Haley,” he said, “but we weren’t planning on having four kids. Certainly not one who was handed to us as a teenager with a lot of baggage.”
“I know.” She nodded. “You guys have been amazing. I’m just suggesting that all of that love and hard work will be undermined if we allow Rand back in her life. We can’t let him do more damage than he already has.”
“I don’t disagree,” Scotty said as they flew through the E-Z Pass lane. “You’re supposed to slow down, you know.”
“Only if you’re a bad driver,” Fina responded, smiling.
A moment later, her nose perked up. “Do you smell that?” she asked Scotty.
He took a whiff and looked at her. “I think that’s smoke.”
The gears were just starting to turn in Fina’s head when a flame escaped from the hood of the car.
“Jesus Christ, Fina!” Scotty exclaimed.
“Shit!” She watched the fire escape from the hood and wend its way from the driver’s side to the passenger’s side. There was no place to pull over, no breakdown lane, so Fina put on the brakes and stopped, unleashing a tirade of angry horns and more screeching brakes. She grabbed the keys from the ignition. The hazard lights seemed unnecessary, given that the front of the SUV was fully engulfed.
“Get out, Scotty!” she yelled, flinging her door open.
“I can’t! We’re too close to the guardrail.” His face was a mask of panic.
Fina hopped out of her seat and reached back inside the car for him. She grabbed the collar of his coat and helped him scale the middle console between the seats. Scotty tumbled onto the pavement amid a cacophony of crackles, pops, and more honking horns. He started to run away from the car, but Fina ducked her head back in and grabbed his briefcase and her bag. She left her coat, which was just out of reach.
“What are you doing?” Scotty yelled at her when she caught up with him, twenty feet behind the engulfed SUV. “It’s going to explode!”
“No, it’s not,” Fina said, leaning over with her hands on her knees. She took a couple of deep breaths. “You watch too much TV.”
“I’m calling 911,” Scotty said, pulling his phone from his pocket.
“I’m guessing somebody did already.”
“That’s what everyone assumes,” he said.
“They’ve called because it’s screwing up their commute,” Fina said. “If for no other reason.”
Scotty kept dialing.
“But knock yourself out,” Fina said. “Are you okay?”
“My chest hurts a little.”
“Probably from the smoke. Or you’re having a heart attack,” she said.
“Really, Fina?” He turned away from her. “Yes, hello, our car’s on fire,” he said into the phone.
A car moved by them at a fast clip, honking.
“Fuck you, too!” Fina called out after them. She started pacing in a small circle by the guardrail.
“You guys okay?” A worker from one of the tollbooths was jogging toward them, fire extinguisher in hand. Another motorist had stopped and also asked if they were hurt.
“We’re fine. Here, let me.” Fina took the red canister from the toll worker and approached the car. She had been driving, and she should assume the risk of putting out the fire, kind of like a captain going down with his ship. Not to mention, she was freezing. Getting close to the mini inferno was a welcome respite from the freezing temperature.
Scotty, the worker, and the Good Samaritan were engaged in conversation while Fina sprayed the white foam over the hood of the car. It had already migrated to the rest of the vehicle, and the extinguisher did little to quell the flames.
Two minutes later, sirens blared in the distance, and two fire engines squeezed through the tollbooths. They were followed by a fire department ambulance, two police cars, and a couple of fire department SUVs. The trucks’ compression brakes made loud squeaking noises when they rolled to a halt, and the doors opened, disgorging a troop of men wearing bunker gear.
“Step away, ma’am,” one of them instructed her, taking the fire extinguisher from her grip. “We’ve got it.”
Another firefighter led her away from the blaze and started asking questions. Was there anyone else in the car? Was she hurt? What was her name? What had happened?
Fina answered the questions and pointed out Scotty so they could check him out. An EMT insisted she come to the ambulance, which Fina didn’t feel was medically necessary, but she went anyway. In her experience—both as a PI and as the daughter of a highly litigious attorney—when health and safety experts offered their expertise, you took them up on it.
Fina sat down next to Scotty on the back of the rig.
“Are you okay?” he asked her.
“I’m fine, just freezing.” One of the EMTs reached into a cabinet over the gurney and pulled out a scratchy wool blanket. Fina draped it around her shoulders while he started giving her a cursory once-over.
“Look at the car,” Scotty said wistfully. “It’s totaled.”
“You sound like a teenager.”
“I feel like one. Dad’s going to go berserk.”
“Did you call Patty?” Fina asked. “You don’t want her to see this on the news.”
“I texted her that we had car trouble, but that we’re both fine.”
“Ha!” Fina said.
“You’re all set, sir,” an EMT said to Scotty. He thanked the man and stood up slowly.
“I’m going to see if I can find anything out,” Scotty said before wandering back to the nearly extinguished fire.
Fina took stock of the scene, which was a weird amalgamation of opposites: freezing temperatures and intense heat; cold water and severe dryness; the early dark of January and the blinding lights from the emergency vehicles. The people who worked in these conditions needed to be brave, certainly, but they also needed to be steady in an environment of contradictory stimuli. It was hard to know where to look or what to pay attention to, but obviously, those were skills well honed by these first responders.
The EMT checked her vital signs and responses. He examined her hands and applied some ointment to her right hand and wrist, which were red and starting to pucker.
“Did you reach back into the car?” he asked.
Fina looked sheepish. “Maybe.”
He shook his head.
“Hey,” Fina said. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is to cancel all your credit cards and get a new license?”
He shook his head. “Not as difficult as getting skin grafts.”
Fina smiled at him. “Fine. You win. It wasn’t my best moment.”
“I think it’s going to be okay.” He uncapped a bottle of water and handed it to her. “You should have your doctor check it in twenty-four hours.”
“I will. Thanks,” Fina said as he climbed into the rig and started tidying things. Fina remained perched on the back and scanned the crowd for Scotty.
“Seriously?” a voice said.
She looked over to see Lieutenant Pitney coming toward her.
“Well, Lieutenant, it doesn’t get more serious than your car erupting in flames on the Tobin Bridge, now, does it?”
“Are you hurt?” Pitney asked. She was bundled in a puffy silver parka. The look called to mind a disco ball.
“Some minor burns, but I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”
“So, what happened?” Pitney pulled out a notebook and a pen.
“I’m thrilled to see you, as always,” Fina said, “but why are you here exactly?”
“Because we’re both investigating Liz Barone’s death, and it looks like someone tried to blow up your car. That seems awfully coincidental.”
The firefighters were rolling up hoses and loading gear back into their trucks.
“Are we sure this wasn’t a mechanical failure?” Fina asked. “If it was, it’s got lawsuit written all over it.”
“The fire guys don’t think so, but obviously, they’ll know more once they take a closer look. For now, we’re treating it as a crime scene.”
“And you’re assuming I was the target?” Fina asked. “Scotty was with me.”
“I know,” Pitney said. “That’s why Cristian is talking to him.” She pointed toward the two men engrossed in conversation. “We’re covering our bases, but if I were a betting woman, my money would be on you.”
“Great.”
“So is this the car you usually drive?”
“No. It’s a fleet car from the firm,” Fina said.
“Why were you driving it today?” Pitney asked.