by Ingrid Thoft
“I’m begging you, Fina. Please don’t punish me for being sick.”
Fina turned to look at Greta. “What if she doesn’t want to give you her kidney? Is she still family then?”
“Yes, yes. I want to know my niece, no matter what.” Greta slowly descended the stairs while her companion in the car looked on with concern. “What are you going to tell her?”
Fina unlocked her door and considered the question. “Honestly? I have no idea.”
• • •
She spent the first twenty minutes of the drive fuming and ruing the day she’d agreed to take Risa’s case. Of course, hindsight was twenty-twenty—she had no reason not to take the case at the time, and better her than a stranger—but that didn’t temper her regret.
What was she going to tell Risa? That her aunt was thrilled to meet her, and oh, by the way, how about handing over a kidney? She dreaded that conversation, but she couldn’t not tell her. And what if Risa really was Greta’s best chance for survival? Was she obligated to help her because they were related?
Fina used one of her bandaged hands to rummage through her purse. She was hoping for a prescription pain pill, but an over-the-counter pill was her only option. That was probably a good thing. She’d seen enough people who grew too fond of prescription drugs legitimately prescribed in the first place. She didn’t have time to be an addict, not to mention that it wreaked havoc on your looks.
She swallowed the pill with some musty-tasting water from a half-empty bottle and tried to put Greta out of her head, a battle she fought unsuccessfully until her phone rang.
“What?” she said, her patience and nerves shot.
“Well, that’s not very friendly. It’s Theresa McGovern.”
“Sorry. Someone else is irritating me, not you.”
“Please. I work for CEOs. I never take anything personally.”
“What’s going on?” Fina asked. She could hear someone talking in the background.
“So, I came across a name that might be of interest to you.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Janet Pally.”
“And she is?” When had Fina’s every conversation turned into a guessing game?
“A pulmonologist. Apparently, Hank had a number of phone calls with her around the same time he was calling Juliana, his college roommate, and Jules Lindsley.”
“How’d you find this out?”
“I looked at the phone bill for his cell and saw a bunch of calls to the same number not logged on his call sheet, so I called and got Dr. Pally’s office.” There was a noise in the background.
“That’s fantastic. Have you ever thought about becoming a PI?”
“One sec,” Theresa said. Fina could hear muffled conversation and a man’s voice before Theresa came back on the line. “Don’t you get beaten up a lot? No, thanks.”
“Not all investigative work is done in the field. You’d be safe behind a desk.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Universum better be my last desk job.”
“So you can DJ full-time?”
“You got it. Speaking of which, how’s that other gig coming along?”
Fina tapped her fingertips on the steering wheel while she thought. “Do you do private gigs? Parties and stuff?”
“Sure, but bar mitzvahs and sweet sixteens aren’t really my style.”
“Nor mine. I was thinking more adult parties or charity events.”
“Maybe.”
“All right. I’ll give it some thought. Thanks, Theresa.”
“Sure. Oh, and Dante says hi!” Theresa said, giggling with the man in the background.
Fina shook her head and disconnected the call.
Kids today.
• • •
Fina drove to Ludlow and Associates and waited outside Scotty’s office until he was available.
“Very nice move with the bodyguard,” he said when she took a seat across from him. “I think Patty might claim she’s in danger.”
She smiled. “He’s that hot? I’m glad to hear it.”
“I don’t have a lot of time, but I can talk while I eat. Do you want something?” He moved over to the conference table.
“What are you having?” She grabbed two diet sodas from the wet bar, gave one to him, and took a seat.
“Veggie stir-fry with tofu and brown rice.”
Fina frowned. “Really?”
“Really. It’s delicious. Trust me.”
“Fine.”
“Michelle!” Scotty hollered toward the outer office. “Can you bring enough for Fina?”
“And Matthew,” Fina added.
“Got it,” Michelle answered.
“I didn’t realize he was joining us,” Scotty said.
“Well, two legal minds are better than one, right?”
“Sure.”
A minute later, Matthew breezed into the room carrying a bottle of iced tea and a tablet computer. The siblings exchanged pleasantries, and then Fina stood up and walked over to a wall-mounted whiteboard. She uncapped a dry-erase marker and started writing.
“I’m going to put some words up, and I want you guys to do some free association. Okay?”
“Whatever comes to mind?” Matthew asked.
“Whatever comes to mind.”
Fina made a list: reproduction, genetics, serious, pulmonologist, specialist, sperm donation, crisis, physical, insurance, tests.
She put the cap back on the pen and stepped back from the board. Her brothers studied the list in silence. Michelle came into the room bearing a tray with three beautifully arranged plates of food. She unloaded them along with napkins, chopsticks, and utensils and floated back out of the room like an adult-sized Tinker Bell with treats.
“You want something that relates to all those categories?” Scotty asked.
“I just want to know what pops into your heads.”
The brothers looked at each other as Fina took her seat.
“Well, there’s the obvious,” Scotty said, digging into his lunch. Matthew nodded.
Fina glanced between the two. “Which is?”
“CF,” Matthew said between chews.
“Exactly,” Scotty said, shaking extra soy sauce onto his stir-fry.
“Wait. Cystic fibrosis?”
“We have taught you something,” Scotty said.
Fina sat back in her seat and looked at the board. “How’d you come up with that?”
Matthew pointed at the board with a chopstick. “It’s a serious genetic disease that requires a lot of specialist care, mostly from pulmonologists. Parents can be tested for the gene, and fetuses can be tested for the disease. They also test newborns now. People know within the first day of birth if a child has it.”
“So you’ve had cases that dealt with CF?” she asked.
“Yup. Although I imagine they’re going to become less frequent given all the testing options nowadays.”
Fina picked up a fork and took a bite of stir-fry. “What flavor am I supposed to be getting?”
“Soy and veggies. You know, the flavor of fresh produce,” Scotty said.
“That’s what I thought.” She put down her fork. “I need to go.”
“You just got here,” Matthew said.
“I know, but you guys have given me a huge lead. I’ve got to get on it.”
“Hold up,” Scotty said.
“What?” Fina asked, pushing back her chair and grabbing her bag.
Matthew and Scotty exchanged a look.
“I know that look, and I don’t like it.”
“I spoke to Dad and Rand, but I don’t think it made a difference,” Scotty said, and took a swallow of soda.
Fina dropped her bag onto the chair. “Meaning?”
“Meaning we can’t stop him from
coming back,” Scotty said.
Fina started to protest.
“Seriously, Fina, what do you want us to do?”
“Something. I want you guys to do something.”
“You can’t make him or anyone else behave a certain way,” Matthew said, stabbing a piece of tofu with his chopstick.
“Since when? You two spend every waking moment getting people to do what you want.”
Her brothers were silent.
Fina threw her bag over her shoulder. “Fine. Thanks for the heads-up.”
“I don’t get what you want us to do,” Scotty said.
“I don’t want you to do anything.”
“Don’t leave pissed,” Matthew implored.
“Don’t worry. I’ll get over it. We get over everything, don’t we? Act like it never even happened? Isn’t that the Ludlow way?”
Fina hurried out of the room, not trusting herself to remain in their presence and behave. She took a detour by the vending machines on her way out and deposited enough change for some peanut butter cups and a package of M&M’s.
Today was not the day to revamp her eating habits.
• • •
Fina made a quick call to Renata with a request and then drove over to the Sanchez home in Somerville. When she knocked on the front door, Rosie opened it and handed a thick file folder to Fina.
“Is that what you want?” Rosie asked.
Fina flipped through it. “Perfect. How are you doing, Rosie?”
“I’m okay. Do you want to come in?”
“Another time,” Fina said, trotting down the stairs. “I need to take care of something.”
“You go, Magnum, P.I.,” Rosie called after her.
Fina shook the file in the air in response and returned to her car.
She needed both hands to extricate her car from its parking space, but once she was back on Mass Ave, she punched in the number for Heritage Cryobank on her phone. She was pleased to hear that Walter Stiles was out of the office and was transferred to Ellen Alberti’s line.
“I’m in the middle of something, Fina,” Ellen said, sounding mildly irked.
“Consider it a brief session of career counseling. How to climb the ladder.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “How soon can you get here?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Fina sped to Cambridge with her window rolled down, the crisp breeze against her face. She loved this feeling—the moment when solving a case seemed not only possible but inevitable.
“Tell me about cystic fibrosis,” Fina said to Ellen.
Ellen looked at her. “You didn’t really come here to ask me something you could find out online, did you?”
“No, but let’s start there.”
Half a turkey sandwich sat unwrapped on Ellen’s desk next to a plastic bag of baby carrots. She took a bite of carrot and chewed thoughtfully. “It’s a genetic disease caused by a mutation. The most serious symptoms are related to the lungs; patients have to contend with a thick mucus that they have trouble clearing, which makes them prone to infections. This is just an overview,” Ellen cautioned.
“That’s all I want.”
“It’s chronic and difficult to manage, although the life expectancy of patients has increased drastically in recent decades. People used to die from it as children, but now they can live into their thirties with a good quality of life.”
“Is it passed through the mother or father?” Fina asked.
“Both. It’s a recessive gene, and the child needs to inherit a copy of the defective gene from both parents to develop the disease.”
“But you test for this?”
“Absolutely.” Ellen picked up her sandwich and took a bite.
“When did you start testing for it?”
“I think the first test was developed in 1989, 1990, but let me check.” She turned to her computer and started typing. “Looks like we started using it in 1992.”
“On newly donated sperm or all of the sperm?”
“All of it.”
“So sperm used to conceive a child in 1994 would have been subject to CF testing?”
“Yes. Where are you going with this?”
Fina reached into her bag and pulled out Renata’s file. She scanned it until she found the pages detailing donor medical history and testing. “Show me where the CF test is.” She handed the pages to Ellen.
She studied the page and pointed to a line. “Right here. It was negative.”
“You said yesterday that this report is a condensed version of the testing that’s performed. Does Heritage keep all of the documentation in its files?”
“Yes, we keep all the documentation.”
“What kind of documentation are we talking about?”
“Notes from the doctor, receipts from lab tests that are done off-site. Keep in mind, files that are twenty years old are still in hard copy, not on the computer.”
“Can we take a look at Renata Sanchez’s complete file?”
Ellen wrinkled her nose. “I’m not supposed to show you a patient’s file.”
“What if she gives her permission?”
Ellen bit off a piece of carrot. “I’d need it in writing.”
“I’ll have it faxed over by the time you find the file,” Fina said, pulling out her phone.
Ellen got up from her desk. Fina started dialing as she left the room.
“I don’t understand why you need this, Fina. Didn’t you just pick up the rest of the file from the house?” Renata asked after Fina had made her request.
“Oh my God, Renata! Just do it!” Fina exclaimed.
“You don’t need to be short with me,” she said.
“Apparently, I do! Please just fax over a release right away.” Fina gave her the number, and two minutes later, Ellen’s fax machine started purring. Fina retrieved the hastily penned release from the tray and placed it in the middle of Ellen’s desk, happy she had made good on her promise.
After five minutes, she began to wonder what had become of Ellen. Ten minutes went by, and Fina stuck her head out of the office and looked down the hallway. She was about to find the receptionist when Ellen came back into the room with an odd look on her face. She picked up the release and studied it, then sat back in her chair.
“I can’t find the file,” she said. Frown lines had emerged on her forehead.
“Could it have been misfiled? Lost someplace?”
“Sure, but we had an intern here over the summer, and she did an amazing job organizing the files.”
Fina thought for a moment, the wheels turning. “Can you look for another? I don’t need to look in the file itself. I just want to know if you have it.”
Ellen looked puzzled, but got up once more. “What’s the name?”
“Marnie Frasier.”
Ten minutes later, she was back, empty-handed.
Fina called Renata and asked for the names of women from the SMC group who had used Heritage sperm around the same time as she and Marnie. She handed Ellen a list of eight names, and Ellen returned to the file room.
Ten minutes later, she was back.
“I can’t find any of those files, Fina,” Ellen reported.
Fina looked at her and then out the window, contemplating. “How big were the boxes you saw Walter putting in his car?”
“They were standard banker’s boxes. But why would he take those particular files?”
“Do me a favor, don’t tell anyone about this. Not yet.”
There was a glint of excitement in Ellen’s eyes. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m not sure yet. Promise me you’ll keep a lid on our file search?”
“Yes. I promise.”
Fina took back Renata’s file and slipped it into her bag
.
“But don’t keep me waiting too long,” Ellen said. “The anticipation might kill me.”
Fina grinned and left the office.
• • •
She knew she should go see Risa, but Fina couldn’t muster the courage for that conversation, not yet. Instead, she decided to head home to recharge and regroup.
Her hands had healed enough that a shower wasn’t a completely masochistic exercise. The energy she got from being clean outweighed the discomfort. She put on some jeans and a V-neck sweater and pulled her hair into a bun. Her reflection in the mirror was thoroughly unsatisfactory; the area between her eye and her temple was a slice of the spectrum from purple to yellow, although most of the swelling had gone down. Time might heal all wounds, but it never worked fast enough for her taste.
Fina called down to the concierge, hoping there was a package from Emma or Hal. Nothing had been delivered, so she put calls in to both of them, and they promised her updates on Denny Calder and anything new on Brett Linder by the end of the day. Great. More waiting.
Some people cleaned when they had time to kill, but Fina didn’t see the point. Everything just got dirty again. There was a service that came in every couple of weeks to keep the place from degrading into frat house conditions, but she never felt the need to supplement their work. Instead, she sat down at her computer and got her paperwork up to date. There were receipts to scan and file, time sheets to update, and invoices to generate. Any small business owner or independent contractor knew that if you didn’t stay on top of your paperwork, it would come back to bite you.
Plus, the rote tasks freed up her mind to wander, which never hurt a case. Fina was fairly certain what Walter Stiles had been up to, but she wasn’t sure that it was motive for murder. She needed a little more information before reaching a conclusion.
She was searching through her bag, looking for a receipt, when there was a knock on the door. Still wary after her beat-down, Fina grabbed her gun and padded over to the door. She looked through the peephole and gripped her gun tighter when she saw who was on the other side.
“I know you’re in there, so you may as well let me in so we can get this over with.”
Fina unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door, gun in hand.