Brutality

by Ingrid Thoft

  There was a large dining table off to the side of the room, which had been set with placemats and cutlery. Fina put the salad on the table as Scotty came into the room.

  “Hey, Sis.”

  “Hey. Has your heart returned to its resting rate?” Fina asked.

  “Barely,” Scotty said.

  “I talked to the cops this afternoon. They said you weren’t giving them much to go on.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not going to just open up the files to them.”

  “I know. Can I look at them and see if anything looks hinky?”

  “No,” Scotty said. “You can’t.”

  “Well, then, can you look at them in a more timely fashion?” Fina asked.

  “I’m doing what I can,” he said. “There are a lot of files, and I’ve got active cases I’m working on.”

  “Fine, but we may not figure out who’s responsible until we dig into them.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to do,” Scotty said.

  “Where are Dad and Matthew?” Patty asked, perhaps hoping to sidetrack the conversation.

  “They should be here any minute,” Scotty said, reaching into the refrigerator for a beer.

  Elaine came back into the kitchen a moment later. Patty looked behind her. “Where’s Haley? It’s time to eat.”

  “She’s having a teenage moment,” Elaine said. She plopped down on the couch and folded her arms across her chest. Someone was having a teenage moment, that’s for sure.

  “What do you mean?” Patty asked.

  “She was showing me some clothes, and I pointed out some things she should take to Florida, and she got upset.”

  “You told her about Florida?” Fina asked.

  “Of course,” Elaine said. “What did you think? I was going to put her on the plane blindfolded?”

  Fina pressed her hands into the kitchen counter. “Mom, Haley doesn’t want to visit Rand, and she doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to.”

  “You’re not her guardian, Fina. You don’t make those decisions for her.”

  “Nor do you, unless I’m mistaken.” Fina and Elaine looked at Scotty.

  He held his cold beer bottle up to his forehead. “Can we not talk about this now? Not with the kids around?”

  “Sure, ’cause there’s nothing to talk about,” Fina said. She started toward the kitchen door.

  “Where are you going?” her mother asked. “It’s dinnertime.”

  “I’m going to check on Haley.”

  She was in the front hall at the bottom of the stairs when Matthew and Carl came in the door. Fina started to climb the stairs, making no attempt to hide her anger.

  “Oh no,” Matthew said, shedding his coat. “I don’t like that look.”

  “What now?” Carl asked.

  “Mom announced to Haley that she has to visit Rand in Miami, and not surprisingly, Haley’s upset.” Fina didn’t wait for him to respond. She continued on to Haley’s room and knocked softly on the door.

  “It’s Aunt Fina,” she said when her knock went unanswered.

  “Come in.”

  Haley was curled up on her bed, plugged into earbuds. Her cheeks were wet, and her eyes red.

  Fina took a seat next to her and gestured for Haley to pull out the earphones. “Hale, whatever Gammy said, ignore her.”

  “She said I have to visit Dad.”

  “You don’t. I promise,” Fina assured her.

  Haley pulled at a string that was unraveling from the seam of her comforter. She wound it around her finger, trapping blood in the tip.

  “Does she know about him?” she asked Fina.

  Fina took a deep breath. “No. Do you want her to?”

  “No!”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “But if she doesn’t know, she’s going to make me see him.”

  Fina wished that were true, but she knew better. Even if Elaine knew the truth about Rand, her denial had no bounds, and she would believe whatever she wanted to. Ignorance or knowledge were beside the point.

  “No, she can’t make you do anything, regardless of what you do or don’t tell her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Fina said, pushing a lock of hair away from Haley’s face. “Do you feel up for dinner or do you want to hang out up here?”

  “Are you going to stay? Now you and Gammy are mad at each other.”

  “We’re usually mad at each other, so don’t worry about that. I’m definitely staying.” Fina wanted to flee the house and never speak to her mother again, but that wasn’t very mature. And she wasn’t going to leave Haley to fend for herself.

  “Okay, but I don’t want to talk about this stuff at dinner,” Haley said.

  “Of course not. Everyone will be too busy blaming me for the car fire.”

  Haley sat up and brushed the tears from her face. “True. That makes me feel better.”

  “Then it’s worth it,” Fina said.

  Haley reached out and gently patted Fina’s injured arm before climbing off the bed and heading for the door.

  19.

  Fina didn’t really need to keep the bandage on her arm the next day, but decided it might be a useful prop at Liz’s funeral. Visible injuries were conversation starters, and if the person responsible for the incendiary device was present, he or she might show some reaction to her wounds.

  After showering, she added some extra gauze for good measure before pulling on a black dress, black tights and boots, and a jacket with a subtle pattern in shades of gray. Fina pulled her hair back into a low bun and lined her upper lids with a dark brown eyeliner. She dusted blush on her cheeks and rolled pale pink lipstick onto her lips. She wolfed down a Pop-Tart over the kitchen sink, then made her way down to her car. She’d been jumped in the garage during an earlier case and still didn’t feel carefree when navigating her own building. In some respects this was a good thing—given her line of work, she should be attentive to her surroundings—but it was also discouraging to think she might not be safe in her own home.

  At a large Presbyterian church in West Roxbury, Fina parked her car and dashed to the entrance. It was freezing, and she was dressed for the occasion, not the weather. Inside, an usher handed her a program featuring a smiling picture of Liz. An organist was playing, and the front of the church was adorned with muted flower arrangements. Fina scanned the crowd and found Cristian sitting by himself in a pew two-thirds of the way back.

  “Hey,” she said when she reached his row.

  “Hey.”

  It was early, and there was only a smattering of other people seated.

  “Can I sit with you?” Fina asked.

  “You want to be seen with the cops?”

  “I think as far as the murderer is concerned, we’re on the same side. I realize your boss may not share that view.”

  Cristian slid over on the bench, and Fina sat down next to him. The program was rolled up in his hand.

  “You look nice,” he told her.

  “Thanks. So do you.”

  He was wearing a dark suit and tie. Cristian was handsome under any circumstances, but he was one of those men who was downright dashing in a well-cut suit.

  “You don’t happen to have any water, do you?” she asked, digging around in her purse.

  “You’re in luck.” He reached underneath the pew and produced a half-empty bottle, which he handed to her. Fina tossed a couple of aspirin into her mouth and washed them down with a swig.

  “What’s wrong?” Cristian asked.

  “Nothing. I’ve had a headache since last night.”

  He looked at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

  “I had dinner with the family, and it was actually physically painful.”

  “More so than usual?” he asked.
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  “Yes, actually. Everyone seems convinced that the car fire was my fault, and Rand has a new girlfriend in Miami and wants Haley to visit.”

  Cristian raised an eyebrow. Unlike Elaine, he knew about Rand’s crimes against his daughter.

  “I was trying to kill the whole idea before Haley even heard about it,” Fina said, “but then big-mouth Elaine told her, and now Haley’s freaked out.”

  “I’m getting a headache,” Cristian said. A few people came down the aisle and took seats near the front of the church.

  “Exactly.”

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “She’s not going to Miami, and don’t even get me started on the new girlfriend thing.”

  “Who would find Rand attractive?” Cristian mused.

  Fina looked at him. “Cristian, he’s rich and handsome and a seemingly successful lawyer. I think a lot of women would find him attractive. He doesn’t wear a scarlet P after all. Life would be easier if he did.”

  “That’s what the sex offender registry is for,” he said.

  “You and I both know that’s mostly for strangers who are predators, not the pedophiles on the family tree.”

  He squeezed her hand. “Sorry you have to deal with this.”

  “Me too.”

  “Sorry to interrupt your chat, but you should probably move.” Lieutenant Pitney stood at the entrance of the pew, staring at Fina. “I’d like a little distance.”

  Fina stood and moved into the aisle. “I don’t suppose we want Gus Sibley to see us being buddy-buddy.”

  Pitney sat down next to Cristian.

  “You look very nice, Lieutenant,” Fina said, eyeing her outfit. The somber occasion had prompted Pitney to dial down her usual level of clothing exuberance. She was wearing a navy pantsuit with a royal blue fitted top. It was a stretch for funeral wear, but Fina appreciated her attempt to blend in.

  “I think it’s terrible,” Pitney said. “So boring, but I wanted to be respectful of the dead.”

  And everyone’s eyeballs, Fina thought.

  “All righty then,” Fina said. “I’ll catch up with you two later.”

  She walked forward a few rows and took a seat in the same pew as an older couple. Fina imagined they were friends of Bobbi’s. The steady stream of arriving mourners ran the age gamut, and Fina alternated between checking them out and perusing the program.

  The program was printed on cream-colored card stock and included a schedule of services and pictures of Liz. Some of the shots showed her as a young woman and college student—both alone and with Tasha, Kelly, and their soccer teammates. Other pictures were of Liz and Jamie and the kids, the ages of the kids highlighting Liz’s relative youth. Everyone complained about getting older, but few would opt for the alternative.

  The church was filling up, and Fina saw a couple of familiar faces. Dana Tompkins, the lab postdoc, was there, and heads turned when Tasha and D walked down the aisle toward the altar. They were an extremely attractive couple; people probably noticed whenever they walked into a room. Fina was checking her watch, antsy for the service to begin, when Gus Sibley took a seat a couple of rows in front of her.

  The organ stopped for a brief interlude during which the only sounds in the church were rustling programs, whispers, and the occasional cough. Fina turned to see Liz’s family milling around at the back of the church. Jamie was standing near the front door, wearing sunglasses, his daughter gripping his hand. Bobbi stood with two women who Fina assumed were Liz’s sisters. Liz’s son held on to Bobbi. The music started up again a few minutes later, prompting Jamie to straighten his tie and tuck his sunglasses into his pocket. The family proceeded to the front of the church, their faces a combination of sadness and confusion.

  Fina took a deep breath.

  A car fire was nothing compared to this.

  —

  People always talk about funeral services being “lovely,” but Fina didn’t understand what that meant. That the deceased was remembered fondly? One would hope that would be the case. That the readings and music were pleasing? She found it hard to focus on those elements with bereaved family members in attendance.

  She supposed that Liz’s funeral was lovely, but was still relieved when it was over. Fina followed the flow of mourners out to their cars while the immediate family continued on to the cemetery for the interment. The guests were told to meet for a reception at the local community center.

  Fina drove the five minutes to the center and was directed into a parking space by a young man in a dark suit. Inside the building, she was sent down a hallway to a function room that probably hosted everything from funerals to parties to Mommy and Me classes. Tables were pushed to the side of the room, laden with food and drink. Flower arrangements flanked a smaller table that held framed photos of Liz and her family. Fina scoured the crowd for a familiar face and saw Kelly emerging from a set of swinging doors, carrying a tray of little sandwiches.

  “Kelly,” Fina said, meeting her at the refreshments.

  “Hi, Fina.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  Kelly brushed her hair back from her eyes. She was wearing a black skirt suit that could have been an interview suit in another life. Fina couldn’t help but notice that the attire for funerals and corporate America were interchangeable.

  “I’m okay,” Kelly said.

  “I didn’t see you at the service,” Fina noted.

  “I offered to take care of things here. The last thing Jamie or Bobbi needed was to be worrying about this.” She gestured toward the food.

  “That was nice of you.”

  “I’m just trying to help out. Speaking of which, I should check on some things.”

  “Of course. Take care.”

  Kelly left, and Fina got a cup of punch before wandering over to the table of photographs. A few of them had been featured in the program, but others were unfamiliar. Fina examined them while keeping an eye on the rest of the room. Cristian and Pitney were speaking to an older couple she didn’t know, and Gus Sibley was deep in conversation with a couple of younger men. Tasha and D walked in her direction from the bar area, each with a plastic cup in hand.

  “How are you two?” Fina asked, meeting them halfway. The three of them drifted over to a bank of windows overlooking the woods.

  “We’re okay,” Tasha said, “given the circumstances.”

  “I just saw Kelly,” Fina said.

  Tasha looked around. “I haven’t seen her.”

  “She organized this; she’s been in and out.”

  Tasha made a face, but Fina couldn’t identify it. Amusement? Irritation?

  “What?” Fina asked.

  “I’m just not surprised that she organized it. She’s big on organizing stuff.”

  “Well, I suppose somebody had to do it,” Fina said.

  “It’s probably a big help to Jamie,” D commented.

  “I know,” Tasha said. “I don’t mean to downplay her support.”

  “Were the three of you close in college?” Fina asked, sipping her punch.

  “Liz and me and Kelly?” Tasha asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “We were. Liz and I lived in the same dorm, so that made our relationship a little bit different, but we were all friends.”

  There was a murmur near the door as Bobbi, Jamie, and the rest of the family came into the room. They didn’t make much progress before well-wishers approached them to offer hugs and words of condolence.

  “I can’t imagine losing my wife,” D commented, watching someone embrace Jamie.

  “Good,” Tasha said, and gave him a smile.

  “And with little kids to raise? I guess maybe that helps you get through the day, knowing you have to take care of them,” he said.

  “Jamie’s going to need help, that’s for sure
,” Tasha said. “He looks exhausted.”

  Fina watched him. He looked disengaged, but he was probably just trying to hold it together. “Bobbi told me the other day that his knee’s been acting up,” Fina said.

  Tasha nodded. “I did the same thing to mine a few years out of college. It still bothers me once in a while.”

  “His injury’s a little different,” D said, sipping his drink. “You tore your meniscus, but he fractured his knee.”

  Fina looked at D, surprised at his familiarity with Jamie’s injury.

  “I checked it out for him when he wiped out,” D explained, sensing the question on her face.

  “Ah. It’s always good having a doctor for a friend.”

  “It is, if you don’t mind people wanting free consults all the time,” Tasha said, rolling her eyes.

  “It’s not that bad,” D insisted. “If I can take a quick look and save someone a trip to the ER, I’m happy to do it.”

  “So you were able to fix him up?” Fina asked.

  “I took a look, but he needed to see an orthopedist. There’s only so much I can do in our living room, particularly when it’s not my specialty.”

  “I wonder who he saw,” Fina mused.

  “I assume he saw Gus Sibley, or someone at his practice. Speaking of injuries,” D said, gesturing to her hand, “what happened to you?”

  “I was in that car fire on the Tobin the other day. I’m fine.”

  “You live quite an exciting life, Fina,” Tasha said, with perhaps a touch of disapproval.

  Fina smiled. “Not really. Do you know if Jamie saw Gus for his knee?” Fina looked at Tasha, who held up her hands.

  “I have no idea who he saw,” Tasha said. “Does it matter?”

  “Nope,” Fina said. “Just curious.”

  Tasha gave her a sidelong look, but Fina ignored it. There was no blueprint for an investigation, and Fina had learned that being curious was her best guide.

  —

  Fina spent another forty-five minutes making small talk with other mourners in the hopes of uncovering some nugget of information that would blow the case wide open. Instead, she heard stories of Liz’s childhood and descriptions of the associations that linked the attendees to the Barone family.