Identity (29 page)

“Keeps her young, I guess.”

“That’s true. She looks amazing.” Fina took another sip. “What happened at the funeral? I heard there was some situation.”

Michael sighed and shook his head. “We had a small private burial since we’re not having the memorial service for a couple of months. It was a mess.”

“Let me guess: Your mom and Danielle got into it.”

“I told my mom she shouldn’t come, but she does what she wants to do.”

“So they had a fight?”

“Words were exchanged. It was tense.”

“And annoying. It wasn’t supposed to be about them.”

“Yeah, well, no one told them.”

Fina sipped her drink. “I’m sorry. That must have been upsetting.”

Michael didn’t respond.

“I don’t have anything specific to report, but I am making progress,” Fina continued. “I do have a question for you, though.”

“What’s that?” Michael looked at her over his soda.

“Why didn’t you tell me that you and your dad had a big fight on the Friday before he died?”

Michael fiddled with the tab on the top of his can before putting the drink down on a coaster on the wooden coffee table. The coaster looked like fabric from a sari, perhaps a gift from his mother.

“I didn’t think it was relevant.”

Fina cocked her head. “Come on, Michael. That’s not going to cut it. I think you were worried that I
would
think it was relevant.”

“But it has nothing to do with anything.” He fidgeted in his seat.

“It doesn’t matter. You still should have told me. Have you told the cops?”

It was faint, but Fina could detect a slight blush creeping out from under the collar of Michael’s button-down.

“No, I haven’t.”

“You need to.”

“Why?”

“Because they’ll find out—” Michael started to protest. “Not from me, but they will find out, and they’ll be pissed. It’s just not a smart move.”

“It seems pretty dumb to make myself look suspicious.”

“Lying makes you look more suspicious. Believe me.”

“I don’t want to tell them about personal stuff between me and my dad.”

“Honestly? Nobody gives a shit. These are seasoned cops. They
really don’t care about your personal drama unless it screws up their investigation or plays a vital role in it.”

Michael picked up his soda and drank some more.

“And that’s why I care about it, too,” Fina continued.

“But you work for me. I should get to decide what I tell you and what I don’t.”

Fina sighed. “I know it seems that way to you—and it may be the case in most employer-employee relationships. But if you don’t tell me the truth, you’re not getting your money’s worth.”

Michael took a large swallow. “Fine. We had the fight we always have, or a variation of it. I wasn’t living up to his expectations.”

“At Universum?”

“Yes, and because I was contemplating making a change. I was talking to people in the nonprofit tech sector, and that’s the kind of job other people have, not Hank Reardon’s kid.”

“It seems like the more successful they are, the more they have to control you. My dad and I fight all the time. He drives me crazy.”

“But it was just a fight,” Michael rushed to clarify. “Sometimes we fought, but we never held grudges.”

Fina finished her soda. “Did you speak with him after the fight, before he died?”

“Yeah, we had a brief phone call.”

“Well, that’s good at least.” Fina had had clients whose last contact with the deceased had been hurtful words or accusations; she knew those exchanges could eat away at the survivors.

“I guess.” Michael smiled wanly.

“It is. You’d feel worse if your last words had been angry ones. Thanks for the drink.” Fina carried her can to the kitchen counter, and Michael walked her downstairs to the front door. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“You can wait a day or two, unless there’s something important to report.” He leaned against the open door.

“I strongly suggest you tell the cops about the argument; it’s in your best interest to come clean.”

Michael looked at his shoes. “I’ll think about it.”

He closed the door as she walked down the steps and headed for her car. Sometimes it was nice to be reminded that the Ludlows weren’t the only family with issues.

Fina went home for a couple of hours and gathered all the information she could about the Reardon Center, Danielle Reardon’s philanthropic efforts, and Dimitri Kask and Hank’s waterfront development deal.

As far as Fina could tell, the two Mrs. Reardons were demanding that the city’s upper crust choose sides. Photos from major charity events featured either Danielle and Hank or Juliana, but rarely were all three in attendance. Both of the women seemed to be staking a claim, and Fina could imagine that the gossip mills were feverishly at work trying to keep up. The Reardon Center was clearly Juliana’s pet project, but there were a few blind gossip column items about the new Mrs. Reardon starting a charity in the Reardon name that might eclipse Juliana’s. Philanthropy as a blood sport; it was absurd.

Fina’s digging into the waterfront development didn’t yield much information, so she called Hal, her finance guy.

“Where are you?” she asked over the thumping bass music emanating from the phone.

“Jiggles,” he hollered.

“The strip club? I didn’t think you were into that sort of thing.”

“I’m not. I’m here with a client. Please tell me you need my immediate assistance.”

Fina smiled. “I need your immediate assistance. Get over here or else.”

“If you insist. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Fina tossed her phone onto the couch and sat down at her laptop. Patty had e-mailed her Haley’s school calendar, which included holidays, special assemblies, and parent-teacher conferences. She’d also attached the schedule for the JV field hockey team and a plea that Fina attend a game. Patty had started her campaign over the summer to get Haley more involved in school activities, and apparently she’d had some success. Patty may not have been a Ludlow by birth, but her tenacity made her an honorary member of the club. Contrary to people’s assumptions that Fina wasn’t interested in team sports below the professional level, she had always loved field hockey. There was something incredibly satisfying about striking a heavy ball with an even heavier stick without having to worry about form.

Fina dialed Haley’s number.

“Hey,” Haley answered.

“You’re back at school, right?”

“Yes. School sucks.”

“I agree, but you’re required to attend by law.”

“You’re required by law to do lots of things that you blow off.”

“Use me as a cautionary tale, then. Aunt Patty sent me your field hockey schedule. The first game’s in a couple of weeks?”

“I guess. The first home game.”

“You don’t sound too enthused.”

“I don’t know. It seems kind of stupid.”

“You know,” Fina said, walking over to the windows overlooking the harbor, “there’s nothing wrong with enjoying normal, dumb stuff.”

“I know.”

“Okay, just checking. So do you want me to paint my face or come up with a few cheers? Maybe get some pom-poms?”

“Believe me, if you showed up with pom-poms, the dads would be psyched.”

“Okay, scratch that idea.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Bye, Hale.”

Fina watched a line of planes snaking around Logan. A field hockey game. It was like a gateway drug to motherhood and domesticity. She’d have to stay on guard.

Her reverie was interrupted by a knock on the door. “It’s Hal, Fina.”

His face fell when he crossed the threshold. “Wha . . . ? What happened?”

“You know, Hal, you’re one of the few people who is truly upset when I get hurt.”

Hal plodded over to the couch and dropped onto it. He was short and obese, and usually sweating, regardless of the season. “It
is
upsetting. I don’t understand why Milloy and your family aren’t more upset.”

Fina shrugged. “My family is cold and unfeeling. Milloy doesn’t like it, but what can he do?” She sat down on the other end of the couch. “They’ve probably also gotten used to it at this point. Do you want something to drink?”

“I would love some water, but I can get it.” He started to struggle off the couch.

“Let me.”

Fina filled a glass with ice water and returned to the living room.

“So, Jiggles?” Fina handed him the water.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Fina, but those places. I always want to pull the girls aside and give them advice on setting up a 401(k).”

“Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re a decent guy.”

Hal dipped his head and smiled. “What do you need?”

Fina tucked her feet under her on the couch. “What do you know about Hank Reardon’s waterfront development deal?”

Hal thought for a moment. “It was a bit of a departure for him. Most of his other projects and investments are in technology.”

“I wonder why he was branching out.”

“Sometimes the really high achievers get bored in their own fields, so they decide to try something new, like buy a professional sports
team. If you’ve got billions of dollars, what’s losing a hundred million on a failed experiment?”

“I suppose. What’s the actual proposal?”

“Developing a big plot of land on the waterfront, one of the few left. The proposal includes restaurants, shops, condos, galleries. He pitched it as a destination, a reason for people to go to the neighborhood.”

“I’ve heard that his Universum partner, Dimitri Kask, wasn’t part of the deal. Know anything about that?”

Hal leaned toward her. “I only know rumors and gossip.”

“That works for me,” Fina said.

“I think the deal was too rich for Dimitri’s blood, and Hank wasn’t willing to negotiate on that point. Hank’s older—was older—than Dimitri and had more time to amass his fortune.”

“But Dimitri wanted in on the deal?”

“Only when he couldn’t get in on it. I think his pride was hurt.”

Fina drained her soda. “I need you to do a little digging around to see if there’s anything odd about the deal.”

“Okay.”

“What happens to it now that Hank is dead?”

Hal held up his hands. “I don’t know. It has the potential to be a huge mess. He’s got a lot of money tied up in it, but I assume Hank had bulletproof estate planning, so maybe it won’t be an issue.”

“Thanks, Hal.” Fina stood and stretched. “Send me the bill and call me when you have some info. One other thing. Two, actually. Can you look into the Reardon Center?”

“The cancer place?”

“Yeah. It’s the main charity of Hank Reardon’s first wife, Juliana, and I want to know if there’s anything hinky or noteworthy in terms of the finances.”

“I’ll let you know what I find. The other thing?”

“A kid named Brett Linder. I’ll e-mail you the basics. I just want to know if there are any red flags.”

“Sure. You take care of yourself, Fina,” he said, walking to the door. “Every time I hear about a shooting, I think of you.”

“Aww, Hal. That’s so sweet.”

•   •   •

Between Harvard Square and Porter Square, Fina parked around the corner from a large cream-colored house. A picket fence enclosed the yard, and a stone path led to the front door. Green shutters framed the windows, and large terra cotta urns overflowing with plants flanked the front door.

Fina rang the bell and waited. After a moment, a man answered.

“Is Dimitri here?” Fina asked. It was close to dinnertime, and she thought her chances of finding him at home were fifty-fifty. Sometimes it was more interesting when the person you came to see wasn’t there.

The man at the door was in his midforties, tall, and carrying just a bit of extra weight around his middle. He had blond hair and a pleasant face. He was dressed in jeans, an untucked light blue polo shirt, and flip-flops.

“No, but I expect him at any moment,” he said. “Can I help you with something?” He examined her face.

Fina reached into her bag and handed him her ID. “Michael Reardon hired me to investigate Hank’s death. I spoke with Dimitri at the office, but I had a few follow-up questions. And this was from an accident,” she added, indicating her face.

“I’m his husband, Andy Collins-Kask. I didn’t mean to stare,” he said apologetically. They shook hands. “You’re welcome to come in if you don’t mind waiting.”

“No worries.” Fina followed him into a beautiful foyer anchored by a staircase with twisted balustrades. The space was bright and light, and the wood floors shone. “Your home is beautiful.”

“Thanks. It’s a colonial revival. We put a ton of work into it.”

“It shows. Is this all original woodwork?”

“Yup. We had to strip everything and refinish it, and when I say ‘we,’ I mean the contractors, but it was still a huge headache.”

“But worth it. This is what people mean when they talk about a house with character.”

Fina followed Andy down the hallway to a large modern kitchen with stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops.

“The twins are outside. Let’s see what they’re up to, and then I’ll get you a drink.”

They passed through the kitchen onto a sunporch and continued out to a large backyard. The area was fenced in and boasted a patio and large play structure. There was a little boy climbing up the ladder and a little girl swinging, her legs askew, her underpants visible to the world.