Identity (55 page)

“I didn’t kill him.”

“Really?” Fina watched as Danielle’s gaze drifted over to the kiln. “I’m pretty sure you did. That’s why you took the pictures of my niece. Even if I didn’t figure out you were the murderer, I was digging around too much for your comfort. You didn’t want Aubrey’s situation to come to light.”

“Believe whatever you want.”

“You were enraged that Hank had gotten you pregnant with an imperfect child that you had to care for, only to find out that he’d fathered healthy children for other women. And then those women and their children were going to stake a claim to him and his money.”

Danielle snorted. “They were welcome to him.”

“That would have been the better choice. Divorcing the guy and not killing him. I’m still working on my theory of the crime. Do you want to hear it?”

“Not particularly.”

“Come on. Be a sport. I think you were in the car with Hank when he drove into the garage, but you bent over so you wouldn’t show up on camera.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Really? You know where the cameras are at your house and at Universum. So you bend over and pretend you’re getting your phone or some lipstick. Hank wouldn’t think anything of it, but there’d be no record of you sitting next to him in the car.”

“And I just happened to have a murder weapon handy?”

“I saw your bag, remember? You had a lot of crap, including art
supplies. I don’t think it’s a stretch to think you had one of those in there.” Fina gestured toward the table of mallets.

“You need to leave,” Danielle snarled, “and if you make these ridiculous claims public, I’ll sue your ass.”

“You want me to leave so you can clean out the kiln? I don’t think so.” Fina folded her arms in front of her. “I’m betting there’s some good trace evidence in there.”

Danielle took a few steps toward her. “What is it that you want?”

Fina shook her head. “Nothing.”

Danielle came closer. “We could figure something out.”

“I have money, thank you.”

“Not the kind of money I have.”

“I don’t want the kind of money you have, you stupid bitch, and you can forget about plan B.”

“What are you talking about?” Danielle walked another step. Her hand wandered behind her back.

“If you think you’re going to knock me out and stuff me in the kiln like some demented Hansel and Gretel fantasy, think again. I will kick your ass.”

Danielle shook her head as if pitying Fina’s overblown confidence. Her gaze wandered to the side, and Fina stood. Danielle’s hand reached out, and she swung at Fina, a sharp rasp cutting Fina on her upper arm.

Fina grabbed Danielle’s wrist and bent it backward, smashing it down onto the table until she released her grip on the weapon. Disarmed, Danielle tried to twist out of her grasp, but Fina had other plans. She hauled off and punched Danielle, who cried out in pain and crumpled to the floor in a heap.

Fina pressed a hand against her bleeding arm. “You know, everyone busts my balls about getting beaten up, but I do all right.”

Danielle huddled on the floor. Fina pulled out her phone and dialed with her blood-sticky fingers.

“What the hell is taking you so long, Cristian?” Fina asked, just as the cavalry arrived.

Fina passed Danielle the next morning on the steps of the police station. Danielle was wearing a large pair of designer sunglasses, flanked by her attorney and a couple of bodyguards. Photographers and reporters tossed out questions, but she swept by them and climbed into a Cadillac Escalade with tinted windows. Fina’s hand instinctively went to her upper arm, which was sore and tender with fifteen stitches pulling on her skin.

“Where’s she going?” Fina asked Cristian, who met her at the front desk.

“Home.”

“She’s not going to be charged?”

“The only thing we can charge her with now is assault, assuming you press charges.”

“What about the kiln and the hammer? She practically admitted the whole thing to me.”

“Don’t worry. We’re testing the hammers and sifting through the ashes, but that’s going to take time. We can’t hold her in the meantime.”

She followed Cristian to an interview room where another detective took her formal statement about the preceding night’s events. Fina was reviewing it when a flash of color breezed by the door.

“Hey! Lieutenant!” Fina hollered.

A mass of curls peeked around the door. “Yes, Fina?”

“What? Not even a hello? I’ve helped you wrap up two cases!”

“‘Wrapped up’ is an overstatement,” Pitney said, coming into the room. She sat down across from Fina. “How’s your arm?”

“It hurts.”

Pitney tugged on the front of her polka-dotted shirt, which was riding up her ample bosom. Her fuchsia-painted nails matched the background of her top.

“Well, I made the connection between Walter Stiles and Denny Calder,” Fina pointed out, “and I led you guys to Danielle and possibly the murder weapon. Seems like a good day’s work to me.”

“I don’t deny it, but you haven’t given me much in the way of hard evidence.”

Fina reached across and patted Pitney’s hand. “I have faith in you, Lieutenant. You’ll find it. Am I free to go?”

Pitney gestured to the door.

Back in her car, Fina took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to go home and curl up in bed with some pain relievers and a pint of ice cream, but that would have to wait. She had some loose ends to tie up.

•   •   •

She met Marnie Frasier at the same hotel in Cambridge, but instead of a drink, they convened at the breakfast buffet. Fina had also invited Renata to join them. She believed they both deserved an explanation, but she was hopeful that Marnie’s clear head might temper Renata’s impulsivity. Technically, Michael Reardon should have been her first order of business, but the Reardons had annoyed her to the point of abandoning professional conduct, at least temporarily.

“Thanks for meeting me on such short notice,” Fina said once the women were seated with food and drinks. They both looked at her expectantly. “I don’t know if you saw the news this morning, but Danielle Reardon and I had a run-in last night.”

“Are you okay?” Marnie asked, her fork poised over her eggs.

“She stabbed me, but I’m fine.”

Marnie gasped, and Renata reared back in surprise.

“I’m fine, but there are a couple of things I want you to know.”

Marnie put down her fork.

“Danielle is now a person of interest in Hank’s murder, so I think Rosie and Tyler are off the hook.”

Renata nodded her head, and Marnie took a deep breath before speaking. “Wait. Are you saying that Danielle Reardon killed her husband?”

Fina looked at her. “I’m not saying anything, although I will say that society wives don’t usually stab someone unless the stakes are pretty high.”

“Holy shit,” Renata said under her breath.

“But that isn’t the main thing I wanted to tell you. I have reason to believe that Walter Stiles committed fraud around the time of your children’s births.”

“What do you mean?” Renata asked, straightening in her chair.

“Get ahold of yourself, Renata,” Fina said. “Seriously. I know I’m taking a risk by telling you this. Don’t make me regret it.” Fina stared at her. “I don’t think he performed the medical tests on the donor sperm that he claimed he did. You might want to speak with an attorney about verifying the health records you were given at the time of insemination.”

“An attorney like your father?” Renata asked.

“It doesn’t matter, although I will say that my father is a damn good attorney, and he enjoys ripping people to shreds. It’s a gift.”

Fina decided not to tell them the details about Hank’s genetic tests and Aubrey’s cystic fibrosis. The baby’s health wasn’t their business, and the revelation would serve no purpose.

“Do you think other SMCs may have had a similar experience?” asked Marnie.

“I think it’s possible. It might not make any difference. It seems like
it’s a healthy group of kids, but you may have made decisions under false pretenses. It won’t be long before some of them have kids, and they should probably have accurate medical histories.”

Renata was off and running, debating the ins and outs. Fina begged off and walked back to her car.

•   •   •

Michael Reardon was in a lather by the time she got to Ludlow and Associates. He was sitting across from Carl, who had a weary look on his face and was fiddling with his tie.

“I’ve been calling you all night!” Michael exclaimed.

Fina grabbed a diet soda from the bar and sat in the chair next to him.

“I was busy being stabbed by your stepmother, but here I am! Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!”

“I don’t even know where to start,” Michael said.

Fina looked at him.

“Michael is not happy with the direction of your investigation,” Carl said.

“Thank you, Father. I hadn’t noticed.” She turned to Michael. “You’ve been paying me for my service and skills as an investigator. If you thought that ensured a particular outcome, I’m afraid you’re mistaken.”

“You think I’m going to pay you for dragging my family through the mud and creating a scandal?”

“Damn skippy you’re going to pay her,” Carl said, leaning forward. “You pay people the money you owe them. Didn’t your father teach you that?”

Michael pulled back. Fina sipped her soda. These were the moments she liked being Carl’s kid.

“Whatever, but I’m going to bad-mouth you all over town.”

Fina exchanged a look with Carl. They both burst out laughing. “Good luck with that, son,” Carl said.

Michael jumped up and stomped out.

“Thanks, Dad,” Fina said. She adjusted her arm on the armrest, but couldn’t find a comfortable position. “My stab wound is fine, by the way.”

Carl waved his hand in the air. “Just another day at the office for you.”

Fina filled him in on the Walter Stiles situation. As she talked, she recognized the gleam in his eye. He was practically rubbing his hands together with glee.

A knock on the door brought their conversation to a stop. Rand stood on the threshold, wearing a suit and tie. Fina bristled when her father invited him in.

“Well, well. I heard you got stabbed last night,” Rand said, taking the seat Michael had vacated.

Fina looked at him. Sitting so close to him made her skin crawl. “When’s your flight?” she asked.

Rand grinned. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Fina looked at her father, who was studying his eldest and his youngest.

“Actually, I think you are.” Fina reached into her bag and pulled out a folder. She handed it to Rand.

He flipped through the contents, his expression clouding over. “Where the hell did you get this?”

“Those are copies, in case you’re wondering.”

Carl stuck out his hand, and Rand passed the folder to him. Carl’s face got stony as he examined the contents. “Where did you get this, Fina?”

“It just fell into my lap. I’m no expert, Rand, but it looks like you were bilking clients. That’s a pretty serious crime.”

A flush crept up her brother’s neck.

“While you were working for Dad,” she added, “which puts him in an awful bind.”

Carl dropped the folder onto the desktop.

“Don’t threaten me,” Rand said.

“It’s not a threat.”

“Dad?” Rand looked at Carl, whose mouth was set in a rigid line.

Fina looked at her brother. “Go. Away.”

Rand turned to his father. “You’re going to let this happen?”

“Let me talk to your sister, Rand.”

Rand left the room, slamming the door behind him.

Carl stared at Fina. “You wouldn’t do it.”

She shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“You’re not just threatening him, you’re threatening me, too.”

“I’m sorry about that, Dad. Collateral damage. But are you really so sure he’s an asset? Not just a liability?”

Carl drummed his fingers on his desk. Fina stowed the folder in her bag and left.

She was on her way home when Risa called. She banged a uey and wished the day would end.

•   •   •

Risa was sitting on the front porch stairs, watching her boys play a pickup soccer game in the yard with some neighbor kids. Fina took a seat next to her and winced when she put weight on her arm.

“Now what happened?” Risa asked.

“Nothing. Let’s not talk about me. Let’s talk about you. I didn’t expect to hear from you so quickly.”

“I didn’t sleep at all the last two nights. Everything kept running through my mind, and I don’t need any more sleepless nights from this particular topic.”

“Understood.” They watched one of the teams celebrate a goal while the other huddled in serious discussion.

“I’m willing to meet her,” Risa said, “and, if I like her, get tested.”

Fina didn’t speak for a minute. “That’s very generous of you.”

“You think I’m nuts.”

“I think you’re an amazing person. A better person than I am.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“I don’t think I’d give up body parts for anyone, even family.”

Risa stared at her. “Fina, you injure your body parts on a regular basis for strangers.”

Fina shrugged. “It’s work.”