Identity (46 page)

“Something like that. How are you two doing?”

“I’m fine,” Michael said. “Mom nearly killed herself on her bike.”

“Really? What happened?” Fina had a sip of her cucumber water; it was surprisingly tasty.

“It’s not a big deal. A guy opened his car door, and I took a tumble.”

“Show her your arm,” Michael urged.

“She doesn’t care about my bruises,” Juliana said, but Fina suspected that Juliana welcomed the opportunity to show off her war wounds. Fina’s brothers were that way. It was some macho code that proved how tough you were. She never had to contemplate showing her injuries; they were usually as plain as day on her face.

“Show me,” Fina said.

Juliana stood up and slipped out of her jacket. One shoulder and upper arm were a mottled purple.

“That looks painful,” Fina said, wincing.

“But not as painful as your injuries,” Juliana said, slipping her jacket back on and crossing her legs as she took a seat. She smiled at Fina, but there was a hint of something sour under her expression.

“Actually,” Fina said, “I was attacked. It’s the second time I’ve been assaulted in the course of this investigation.” She looked at Juliana and Michael.

“That’s horrible,” Juliana said. Michael squirmed on the couch.

“It hasn’t been fun.” Fina didn’t say anything more. She knew that
Juliana wasn’t unnerved by her silence, but she didn’t think Michael could withstand her Jedi mind tricks.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

“Absolutely, but as you can imagine, it makes me even more anxious to get to the bottom of Hank’s murder. Do either of you know a man named Denny Calder?”

Juliana and Michael looked at each other.

“The name isn’t familiar,” Juliana said.

Michael shook his head. “Is he the one who attacked you?”

“Yes. He’s in police custody, but he isn’t talking.
I
don’t know him, so I suspect he’s working for someone else.”

Juliana dipped her head down and studied the hem of her dress.

“What can we do?” Michael asked.

“Well, Juliana, you could explain why there was an increase in your communication with Hank in May.”

Juliana looked puzzled. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I’ve learned that he contacted you”—Fina consulted her notebook, which she’d pulled from her bag—“four times the third week of May, then an additional three times the next week.”

Juliana gave her a pitying smile. “We share a child. Even though he’s an adult, we still have things to talk about.”

“Understood, but it’s the uptick in calls that interests me.”

Michael looked at his mother. Fina sipped her water and waited.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Fina. I’ll have to look at my calendar and let you know if there was anything in particular happening, but nothing comes to mind.”

“That’s fine. Why don’t you take a look? I assume you keep your calendar on your phone.”

Juliana let out a short exhalation and reached for the purse at her feet. Michael picked at one of his cuticles while she tapped on the screen and scrolled through various apps.

“I don’t see anything of particular importance,” Juliana said, slipping her phone back into her bag.

“I don’t understand,” Michael said, looking at his mother and Fina. “What’s going on? Were you and Dad having an affair?”

“Goodness, no! That’s a ridiculous idea.” Juliana brushed her bangs to the side. “Although I’m not sure it’s an affair when your former husband is involved,” she said, almost under her breath.

“It is if he has a new wife,” Fina said.

Juliana smiled and patted Michael’s hand. “I was not having an affair with your father. I’m sure there’s an innocent explanation for the extra phone calls. Let me check with a few people and see if anything was going on here during that time.”

“That would be helpful,” Fina said. “As far as you knew, Michael, your dad was in good health?”

Michael looked at his mother. “He was in great shape. Right, Mom?”

“Yes.” Juliana frowned. “I thought we covered this the other day, Fina.”

A woman poked her head into the room before Fina could answer and broke into a wide smile when she saw Juliana.

“Jennifer! You look wonderful,” Juliana exclaimed. She leapt up from the couch and pulled the woman into a warm embrace.

“I feel better,” Jennifer replied.

“Jennifer has been participating in our new Health 360° program,” Juliana said. “This is my son, Michael, and our acquaintance Fina Ludlow.”

Hellos and handshakes were exchanged with Jennifer, who looked thin but not frail. Her hair was shorn close to her head, but it had crossed over from a chemotherapy marker to a fashion-forward pixie.

Juliana and the woman made promises to be in touch, and Jennifer left. They took their places on the couch.

“Her recovery has been so inspiring,” Juliana said. “She was given a terrible prognosis.”

“You wouldn’t know it. She definitely looks like she’s more well than sick,” Fina commented.

“She is, and it wouldn’t be happening if not for the Reardon Center.” Juliana smiled and turned toward Michael. “Tell Fina the good news.”

Michael scooted forward on the couch. “The center is buying the property next door and expanding.”

Fina blinked and looked at Michael. “That’s exciting.”

“Very,” Juliana said. “We couldn’t be more pleased. This acquisition is going to have a huge impact on our ability to serve the community. People like Jennifer won’t sit on waiting lists for months on end.”

Juliana’s sales pitches were starting to tire Fina out. “Congratulations. It sounds like you’re taking a more hands-on role at the center,” she commented to Michael.

“I just want to continue to make a contribution to the community in the Reardon name.”

“So Hank would have supported this purchase?”

“Absolutely,” Juliana said.

“Have the particulars of the will been discussed?” Fina looked at mother and son.

“That’s a very personal question,” Juliana said.

Fina looked at her. “It is.”

“We’ve spoken with Jules in general terms,” Michael said.

“Any surprises?” Fina asked.

Michael shrugged. “Not as far as I can tell.”

“Well, I’m glad the center is thriving. It seems like a wonderful resource.” Fina stood and grabbed her bag.

“We’re having a gala after the first of the year,” Juliana said, standing and smoothing her dress. “Can we count on your support?”

“Sure. Better yet, send it to my father. He can buy a whole table.” Fina grinned. She always got a warm and fuzzy feeling when she helped spend Carl’s money.

“Wonderful.”

Michael and Juliana walked into the hall with her. Sunlight was streaming in a bay window, making the space bright and toasty.

“Juliana, if you could follow up with your contacts and try to determine what was going on during those two weeks, I would really appreciate it,” Fina said. “The sooner I wrap this up, the better it will be for everyone.”

“Well, we can’t do your job for you, Fina,” Michael said, as if he’d just grown a pair.

“You’re right, Michael.” Fina smiled and shook her head. “You couldn’t possibly.”

She walked down the stairs and outside to the sunshine and the rustling leaves.

Once again, the Reardon maid left Fina waiting in the foyer while she went to locate the mistress of the house. Fina spent a few minutes studying the intricate carvings on the banister of the opulent staircase. It was hard to fathom the time and work that went into creating such a detailed work of art, and she was glad that people like the Reardons took care of it. The public might scoff at their enormous wealth, but it was people like the Reardons—and the Ludlows—who helped maintain community treasures like libraries, parks, and historical buildings.

Fina’s patience was reaching its limit when the maid returned and led her to the elevator. The mirrored capsule carried them to the fifth floor and Danielle’s art studio. Fina followed the maid across the paint-splattered floor, navigating the maze of canvases and easels. Danielle was sitting on the overstuffed sofa in the farthest corner of the room, flipping through the pages of a heavy hardback art book. On a table underneath the window, there was a collection of what looked to be ceramics in various stages of completion and stacks of black-and-white photographs.

“Hi, Danielle.” Fina took a seat at the other end of the couch.

“Hey.” She struggled to close the large book and place it on the floor by her feet. It was a book about Michelangelo and the Medici Chapel.

“Getting inspired?” Fina asked.

“Trying to.” Danielle was wearing tight jeans and a paint-stained oxford shirt over a tank top. Her hair was in a messy bun, her face devoid of makeup. She looked tired and seemed to sense Fina’s assessment. “I look awful. I know.”

“You look gorgeous, which is pretty amazing. Newly widowed and a new baby? Sounds exhausting to me.”

Danielle nodded. “It is.” She fiddled with a button on her shirt. “Aubrey had a bad night.”

“Babies are so inconsiderate.” Fina shifted on the couch. “Thanks for giving Mickey Hogan the okay to show me the surveillance tapes.”

“Sure. Was it helpful?”

“It was, actually.” Fina decided to hold back the details. No need to stir up Danielle’s feelings about the cryokids. “I have another question to ask.”

“What’s that?” Danielle asked. She got up from the couch and walked over to the table with the ceramics. She picked up an object that looked like a decanter. Danielle examined it from various angles, its surface a beautiful mélange of shades of blue.

“Do you remember anything in particular about the third week of May?”

Danielle’s fingers stilled. She thought for a moment. “No. Why?”

“Hank had some weird phone traffic around that time.”

She turned to face Fina. “What do you mean?”

“What about his insurance physical?”

“What about it?”

“Were the results unusual this year?”

Danielle looked annoyed. “I can’t discuss his medical record with you.”

Fina matched her expression. “Of course you can. You’re his widow. You can tell me whatever you want. You’re not bound by HIPAA,” she said, referring to the federal act barring the disclosure of personal health information.

“Well, there’s nothing to discuss anyway. Hank was completely
healthy. I thought you knew that from his autopsy.” Danielle carefully placed the decanter back on the table and perched on the arm of the couch farthest from Fina.

“I’m not suggesting he wasn’t healthy. I wondered if the results were unusual in any way.”

Danielle shook her head.

“Did he suffer from allergies?” Fina asked.

“Yeah, but so does everyone I know.”

“Bad ones?”

“He took a prescription for seasonal allergies.”

Fina thought for a moment. “The increased phone calls seemed to coincide with the physical—or physicals, I should say. He had a couple of follow-ups.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I have my sources.”

“Who was he calling?” Danielle asked, twisting her engagement ring on her thin, tanned ring finger.

“Jules Lindsley, his college roommate, and Juliana.”

Danielle shrugged. “He and his roommate were serving on some alumni committee. I’m sure he had his reasons for the others.”

Not the reaction Fina was expecting. “Do you know what those reasons might have been?” she pressed.

“It was probably something about Michael. Why don’t you ask Jules or Juliana?”

“Jules won’t tell me anything, and I spoke with Juliana, but she didn’t have anything to offer.”

Danielle held up her hands. “I wish I could help, but I don’t know what to tell you.”

“So it really doesn’t bother you that your husband was spending time chatting with his ex?”

Danielle smirked. “Believe me, Hank had no interest in starting things up again with Juliana. She held no appeal for him, despite their history.” She stood. “I need to go.”

“Sure. Thanks for taking the time.”

They walked to the elevator, and Fina stepped off on the ground floor. “I hope Aubrey sleeps better tonight.”

“Me too,” Danielle said, leaning against the mirrored wall as the elevator door slid shut.

•   •   •

Fina found a drive-thru and got a diet soda and a large order of French fries. Salty fries probably weren’t the best choice; her shoddy bandaging allowed some of the salt particles onto her palms, which made her hands sting. From the depths of her bag, Fina dug out a pill and washed it down with the soda. She needed to transition to over-the-counter pain relievers soon. Soon, but not yet.

After cleaning the grease and salt off, Fina pulled out her phone and dialed Greta Samuels’s number. She assumed that Greta would be pleased with the news, but she also knew that assumptions were dicey propositions in her line of work.

“Hello?” Greta always sounded surprised when she answered the phone, as if she didn’t quite believe there would be someone on the other end.

“Greta? It’s Fina Ludlow.”

“Hello. I assume my sample arrived.”

“It did. Thank you.”

“And?”

“And I got the lab results back, and it appears that you and Risa are related.”