Loyalty (16 page)

The burly guy studied Fina’s face while Milloy spoke into his ear. Whatever he said, it worked. The velvet rope was pulled back, and Milloy put his arm around Fina and led her into the club.

“Are you doing this solo or do you want a hand?” Milloy yelled in her ear. The music was blaring, and the floor shook from the bass.

“How about you stay close? My friend is in the VIP section, so there’ll be lots of eye candy at least.”

“After you,” Milloy said, and gestured toward the stairs.

The VIP balcony was only half full, but still guarded by another large bouncer. What did these guys do for work other than security? Their necks were the width of fire hydrants, their faces plastered with a permanent grimace. They’d look like escaped convicts in any other workplace.

“We’re here to see Dante,” Fina told the bouncer.

He held up a hand to keep her in her spot, and he gave Milloy the once-over before heading across the room. Dante was seated in the same booth as last time with a bevy of young ladies surrounding him. The bouncer leaned down and whispered in his ear, and a scowl eclipsed Dante’s face.

Fina nudged Milloy with her elbow. “Did you see that? I can tell the exact moment when my name is mentioned; he got all angry-looking. Carl would be so proud.”

The bouncer came back and motioned for Fina and Milloy to proceed to Dante’s table. Dante glared at Fina when she reached them, and he chomped down on a mouthful of ice.

“Looks like you finally got what was coming,” Dante said as he stared at her face. “Give me his name and I’ll send him a thank-you note.”

“Charming, isn’t he, ladies?” she asked the girls.

“What do you want now?” Dante asked.

“I just want to talk. Why don’t your girlfriends give us a little privacy,” Fina said.

“We don’t have anything to talk about,” Dante said.

Fina shrugged. “Hey, if you don’t mind talking about your erectile dysfunction in front of them, I don’t mind.”

Dante slammed his glass down on the table. “Make it quick.” He nudged the two girls closest to him, and the group slid out of the booth and wandered over to the bar. “Who’s he?” he asked while studying Milloy.

“He’s my friend, but he really doesn’t want to hear about your penis.”

Milloy shook his head and wandered over to the bar. Fina sat down on the edge of the booth.

“You are the most fucking irritating woman I’ve ever met,” Dante said. “If you were my bitch—”

“Oh, sweetie. That would never happen. Before we go too far, don’t forget about my promise to shoot off your balls, one at a time. My offer still stands.”

“What do you want?” Dante leaned his arms on the table.

“Is Brianna around?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“Fine. Let me rephrase the question: Do you know who Brianna works for?”

Dante watched two girls dancing together, probably eager for them to break into a naked pillow fight. He was silent.

“Who has girls up here other than you?” Fina asked.

“None of your business,” Dante said, and tipped his drink back. He bit down on an ice cube and rattled his empty glass in the direction of the bar. “I already told you, I don’t know anything about your kid.”

“She’s not my kid,” Fina growled.

“And I told you about Brianna. If she won’t talk to you, that’s your problem.”

A waiter brought a drink over to the table, but before Dante could take it, Fina grabbed it and took a long pull. She moved her mouth into a moue. “What is this?”

“Coke and Morgan’s.”

“Dante, you have got to get with the program. Your apartment, your choice of cocktail, the outfit,” she said, gesturing toward the shiny button-down shirt that revealed his hairless pecs. “You’re supposed to dress for the job you want, not the one you have.”

Dante grabbed his drink from her. It sloshed onto the table. “What will it take to get you out of my life?”

“Tell me what I want to know. Everything. Now.”

Dante wiped his hands with a napkin and tossed it onto the table. He glanced in both directions and leaned toward Fina. “There are a couple of escort services that do business up here, and as long as they stay out of my way, I stay out of theirs. Mickey McKenna used to run some girls, but I put an end to that.” He sat back and spread his arms across the back of the booth.

“There you go,” Fina said. “Acting like the pimp in charge. Well done. So Brianna works for one of the services? What’s the name of the service?”

“No idea. Now, are we done?”

“The next time Brianna shows up, you give me a ring.” Fina pulled out her card and sent it sliding across the table.

“Why should I?”

“Because if you don’t, I’ll find out about it, and then I’ll never leave you alone.”

“Believe her, man,” Milloy said. He was standing behind Fina with a beer in hand. “She’s like a parasite, this one. You cannot get rid of her.”

“No shit,” Dante said, slipping the card into his pocket.

“Always a pleasure, Dante,” Fina said as she stood up.

“Fuck you,” he mumbled.

“Right back at ya,” Fina said, and followed Milloy out of the VIP area.

Why couldn’t people just do what she wanted without a lot of sass?

Milloy dropped her off outside her building, but he didn’t pull away before seeing Cristian emerge from the shadows by the front door.

Milloy looked at her, but she waved him on. Milloy knew about Cristian, and Cristian knew about Milloy. They both knew as much as Fina knew: She had a thing for both of them and hooked up with each of them on occasion.

“How long have you been waiting?” she asked Cristian.

“Not long. Your doorman invited me to wait in there, but damn, he’s a Chatty Cathy.”

He followed Fina inside, where she waved at the man behind the desk, and they rode the elevator up to Nanny’s.

“What have you been up to today?” Cristian asked once they were inside. Fina kicked off her heels and dropped down onto the couch.

“Who’s asking? You or Pitney?”

“C’mon . . .”

“It’s a reasonable question.”

“Let’s just say, people in the department are curious about your activities.”

“Well, I went to see my niece and my brother. That was fun. I ate at Kelly’s, did a little snooping, took a nap, and did some more snooping.”

“Anything you can share?”

Fina reached down and massaged her feet. Between Amy Myers’s heels and her Crystal footwear, they were throbbing. “Not yet.”

Cristian exhaled loudly.

“Did Pitney really send you over here to get information? She must be desperate,” Fina said.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling everyone for the past eighteen hours.” She switched to the other foot. “Okay, I can’t give you details yet, but I may have found a witness who saw Melanie on Wednesday evening.”

“Did this witness see someone other than Rand killing her?”

“No, but the tip may still be useful. At the very least it would help fill in the time line,” Fina said sharply. “I’m working on it. As soon as I can tell you, I will.”

A gentle hum filled the air, and Cristian tilted his head. “Why were you hanging at my place if you have central AC?”

Fina shrugged. “I can’t stay away from you?”

“Is that a question or a statement?”

“Always the cop. Look, you’re welcome to crash here if your place is too hot.”

“Thanks, but I’ll take a rain check. I think we need to be discreet.”

“Any autopsy results yet?”

“Just preliminary.”

“And?”

“Fina, I can’t tell you that. You’ll just turn around and tell Rand.”

“What if I promise I won’t?”

“I wouldn’t believe you.”

Fina slowly stood up and walked over to Cristian. “Fair enough. You sure you don’t want to stay? No strings attached. Just for some company? I can nag you so it feels like the good old days with Marissa.”

Cristian looked at her. “Tempting, but I’d better go.”

Fina wrapped her hands around his waist and kissed him. Cristian had the best lips—soft but firm. He leaned into the kiss and grasped the back of her neck with one hand. He pushed her up against the wall, and Fina nudged her leg between his. She started to undo his belt, but Cristian gently pushed her hand away, his lips still firmly locked on hers. Fina ran her fingertips inside his shirt, up his bare back, and felt him shiver.

“You’re sending me mixed signals,” she said. She tugged on his earlobe gently with her teeth.

“I know.” He kissed her more deeply. “I want to, but I don’t.”

“It’s not that complicated.” She reached down and grasped his perfect ass.

“Fuck,” Cristian moaned softly.

“I’m trying.”

“No, I mean, ‘Fuck, we can’t do this now,’” Cristian said, and he gently grasped Fina’s wrists in his hands. “I want to, believe me, but we can’t. Not with this case.” He took a step back and straightened his shirt. Fina leaned back against the wall. “A rain check?” Cristian asked.

“Sure.”

They walked to the door, and Fina gave him a kiss on the lips. “In the meantime, if you change your mind about those autopsy results . . .”

“I won’t,” he said, and kissed her back. “Give it a rest, Josefina.”

He walked out, and she locked the door behind him. She moved to the windows and gazed out at the harbor and Logan.

When she had looked out the same window yesterday, was Melanie already down there? Snagged on the rocks like a piece of driftwood?

Fina flicked off the lights and went to bed.

The nurse was late, but Chester needed to be cleaned up now. Connor wouldn’t allow his father to sit in his bodily fluids like a patient in a state hospital. Bev came into the room, and the two of them got to work. They avoided eye contact with each other and didn’t speak except for the brief exchange of information necessary to get the job done. Although Connor was the doctor, Bev knew more about caring for Chester. Connor found himself in the unusual position of being the extra set of hands following directions.

Connor smoothed the sheet over his father, and his mother picked up the TV remote and flipped through the channels. The night nurse had been watching the early morning news show, but Chester didn’t need to see that. She skipped up the channels, but stopped abruptly. Bev stepped toward the television and shushed Connor when he started to speak.

A body had washed up. They didn’t know who it was yet, but there was conjecture. Connor stopped folding the afghan at his father’s feet and froze. He looked at his mother and felt heat rising from his stomach to his head. She had a small smile on her face. Once the anchor had moved on to the weather, Bev looked at Connor, a benign, blank look settled across her features.

“Are you putting that over Daddy?” she asked mildly.

“Uhh . . . yeah,” Connor said, and handed her one side. Together, they spread it over Chester.

“Perfect,” Bev declared. “I’m famished. How about some peanut butter banana French toast?”

It was the Toyota Camry. Again.

Fina was driving west on the Mass Pike in Newton when she picked up the tail in her rearview mirror. Her scabs itched and served as a constant reminder of her previous interaction with the mystery man. Things would be different this time.

“Any chance you’re in Newton?” she blurted out when Frank answered his phone.

“I am indeed. What’s going on?”

“The same asshole, the one that ran me off the road last time, is back.”

“What last time?” Frank asked, sounding more alert.

“Damn it. I forgot to tell you. I’ll catch you up, but I’m trying to get a bead on this guy; he’s making my life difficult. If I meet you at the police station could you pick up the tail? It’s a black Toyota Camry.”

“What case is this for?”

“I’m not sure. It may be related to Melanie.” Fina glanced in her mirror and watched the Camry. As she slowed and exited the highway, the car tucked in behind another, but continued to follow her.

“See you in a few,” Frank said, and clicked off.

Fina spent the next five minutes weaving in and out of traffic, one eye on the road, the other on her mirror. If this guy recognized her current car, he must have been keeping an eye on her. Not a comforting thought.

After five minutes, she pulled into the police station lot and climbed out of the car. Her tail parked across the street and watched.

There were a couple of cops talking in the parking lot, so Fina hurried over and asked for directions to the public library. She pointed in the direction of the Camry and was sure not to smile at the cops. Frank pulled over to the curb a couple of cars behind the Camry and seemed to be talking on the phone.

“So it’s a right turn out of the parking lot?” Fina asked.

“No, you wanna take a left—here, let me show you,” the nice, older cop said. He walked toward the street.

The tail fired up his engine and pulled into traffic. A moment later, Frank pulled out behind him.

“A left. Got it, Officer. Thanks so much,” Fina said, and returned to her car.

She took a left out of the parking lot and made her way back to the highway. She punched the button for Frank on her phone.

“Are you on him?” she asked.

“Yup.”

“Let me know where he ends up. It’s time for us to be properly introduced.”

Fina pulled into a drive-thru and ordered hotcakes and sausage. She also got a diet soda and sat in a parking space to refuel. Her adrenaline level was returning to normal, but she felt an underlying buzz that was familiar and welcome. If she could get some info out of the guy in the Camry, she could figure out who was so intent on putting her out of commission. That would bring her one step closer to figuring out who killed Melanie. It wasn’t a smoking gun, but for the first time in a few days, she felt like she had an actual lead. But she had to wait until Frank called her, and since waiting wasn’t Fina’s forte, she decided to eat and come up with a plan.

She was dredging the maple syrup with a sausage link when her phone rang.

“What’s up, Scotty?” she said through a mouthful.

“What are you eating?”

“That’s what you called to ask me?”

“No, but I like to eat vicariously through you.”

“Hotcakes and sausage.”

“From a fast-food place?”

“Yup.”

“Damn you and your fast metabolism.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“Is Haley with you?”

“No. Why?”

Scotty sighed deeply. “She’s MIA.”

“Doesn’t she have school?”

“There are only a few days left—special assemblies and field days—so Rand said she could bag it and hang out with Mom.”

“Ahh, yes. The concerned grandmother.”

“But Mom’s no match for Haley. You of all people know that.”

It was true. During Fina’s adolescence, Elaine had tried to keep Fina on a tight rein, believing that because she was a girl, she would be easier to control than her brothers. She’d been sorely mistaken. Fina’s high threshold for risk and her athleticism made her a master of escape and illusion. She could foil any curfew, lock, or alarm system that Elaine threw in her way. And the bigger the houses got, the easier it was to make a break for it. Eventually, Elaine pretended that she didn’t care, that Fina snuck around with her implicit permission, but that was just her way of saving face.

“Did you try her friends?”

“Yeah, Patty’s made some calls. No luck.”

“Fuck. What does Rand say?”

“I haven’t been able to reach him.”

Fina picked at a cuticle. “I told him that his hands-off parenting isn’t going to work right now. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Roger. I got that, but what about Haley?”

Fina sighed. “It’s too early to panic, and we’ve got enough problems.”

“Right. Okay. But let me know if you hear from her.”

“Of course.” Fina ended the call and stared at the entrance of the fast-food restaurant.

There really should be a licensing test for reproduction.

Fina found a coffee shop with Wi-Fi and started poking around Bob Webber’s life. She hadn’t heard from Mark, and she was loath to defy his “no cops” edict, but she needed to do something. Maybe there was some dirt on Bob Webber that she could use to compel him to come forward, or maybe someone else had seen Melanie in the North End that day. Once she got some background info on him, she would head back into the city and pick up some cannoli.

Fina picked up her phone and punched the speed dial button for Cristian.

“Menendez,” he answered.

“Hi. It’s me. You still mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you. I thought you were mad at me.”

“Nah. I’m just frustrated. Sexually and professionally.”

“Sorry I can’t help.”

“I know sex is off the table, but how about cause of death?” Fina asked.

The would-be novelist at the next table gave her a dirty look.

“I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“Which is not the same thing as not having information.”

“What exactly do you want me to do, Fina? My hands are tied.”

“I want you to tell me the cause of death. I’ll hear about it soon enough anyway.”

“Then why not just wait?”

“Because I hate being blindsided!” Fina exclaimed. Shakespeare glared at her. “And the sooner I get that info, the sooner I can get to work pursuing some leads.”

Cristian exhaled loudly over the line. In the background, Fina could hear telephones ringing and furniture banging.

“Are you in the squad room?”

“No, I’m at the bridal sale at Filene’s Basement. Yes, I’m in the squad room.”

“Yikes. Easy, buddy.”

“Wait a sec.” The sound became muffled, and Fina waited for a minute. Cristian came back on the line with a hushed voice. “I can’t tell you the cause of death, but I think Stacy D’Ambruzzi is on the team that did the PM.”

“I thought she left the ME’s office.”

Her neighbor banged on his keyboard. “Do you mind?” he asked.

“If you want quiet, go to a fucking library,” Fina hissed.

“Making friends, as usual,” Cristian commented. “I don’t know what the deal is, but Stacy’s back. You didn’t hear it from me.”

“Thank you, Cristian. As soon as I can give you something, I promise, I will.”

“Yeah. I’m not going to hold my breath on that one.” He hung up.

The medical examiner’s office was in a gray stone building in Chinatown. Fina pulled into a lot between two buildings with so little room, the cars were wedged in bumper-to-bumper. She was usually wary about letting attendants jockey her car, but she couldn’t care less about the fleet loaner.

The windows of the Chinese restaurants and shops were packed with knickknacks and carcasses, and sometimes both. Fina walked by a display of featherless chickens hanging by their feet, the dimpled skin whitish-blue. She couldn’t imagine carving up a body and then popping next door for some Happy Family in a Nest. But if you’re carving up bodies in the first place, you probably have a pretty strong stomach.

She stood across the street from the entrance to the ME’s building and evaluated her options. She didn’t want to go in and sign the visitor’s log and risk bumping into someone she knew—other than Stacy, that is. She was watching the door when two women came through it and sat down on the low stone wall that surrounded the shrubs at the base of the building.

The older woman—who looked to be in her forties—reached into her bag and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. She lit one and handed it to the younger woman—barely old enough to qualify as a woman—who was juggling a baby on her hip. The child was drooling and grabbing the mother’s large hoop earrings. The older of the two was overweight and kept tugging on the T-shirt that strained across her boobs. She lit another cigarette for herself and inhaled deeply.

After a couple of minutes, a security guard came out and pointed to the sign forbidding smoking within thirty feet of the building. There was some back-and-forth as the women argued with the rent-a-cop, and Fina found herself siding with them. Come in and identify your dead relative, but first, put out that cigarette. Smoking kills, after all. The women ground out their smokes and walked back into the building.

At least that answered one question: Smoking wasn’t allowed out front. If you were looking for someone who smoked—Stacy D’Ambruzzi, for example—you had to look for the smoking spot. Hospitals, police stations, government offices—in Fina’s experience, the people who worked in these settings often smoked and drank to offset the stress of their jobs. They seemed to make a calculated risk when it came to those vices, and there was always a smoking spot close to the building. Since Stacy D’Ambruzzi couldn’t smoke outside the front entrance, the spot must be somewhere else around the perimeter.

Fina crossed the street and walked down an alley bordering the side of the building. There was a set of heavy, dented double doors, but no one was hanging around, and the ground wasn’t littered with cigarette butts, just ordinary urban trash—a discarded Dunkin’ Donuts cup, a sodden receipt, and some gravel. She continued around to the back, where there was a chain-link garage door at the top of a ramp that sloped sharply beneath the building. This was the way in and out for the bodies. Fina kept walking toward a door where a young man was kneeling with his back against the wall, a cigarette in his hand.