Identity (4 page)

“And you’re bearing gifts? Come in, come in.”

They passed the next hour watching the Red Sox and discussing Renata Sanchez in between innings while Fina nibbled on the Mallomars he’d brought.

“So what’s your first move?” Milloy asked as he stretched his arms over his head, revealing a sculpted abdomen.

“Put myself up for adoption? Seriously, the whole thing is crazy.”

“You could opt out of this one.”

Fina gave him a withering look. “I’m running out of free passes, and I’m not worried about the family stuff. It’s the work that concerns me.”

“What? You think Carl might fire you?”

“He might.”

“But you’ve had other clients in the past. You could go out on your own.”

“Maybe, but he could make my professional life very unpleasant, and more importantly, I like working for the firm. The cases are interesting. On my own, I’ll spend my time following chumps around with a camera hoping to catch them reshingling their roofs while on disability.”

Milloy patted her knee. “Then I guess you need to take this case.”

“I guess so. If I find the donor quickly, maybe Renata will stop pursuing the lawsuit idea.”

“Where are you going to start?”

Fina thought for a moment. “The offspring. I need to talk to Rosie Sanchez and get a DNA swab.”

Milloy grinned.

“What?” Fina asked.

“I’m just imagining you in a nurse’s uniform.”

“Yeah, ’cause I’m going to show up in thigh-high white stockings and a low-cut white top.”

“A boy can dream.”

The next morning, Fina ventured past Cambridge’s leafy streets and sizable single-family homes to Somerville. It was formerly a working-class town, but artists, professionals, and members of academia ushered in gentrification in the 1990s, recasting the densely packed city as a place to be. As she navigated the narrow streets, the mid-rise brick buildings and triple-deckers seemingly crept toward Fina. She had grown accustomed to Nanny’s extensive vista and appreciated a sight line that encompassed more than the neighbor’s clothesline.

Yesterday she’d reviewed her old file on Renata and done a cursory background check on her in preparation for this visit. Renata and her daughters lived in a two-family house Renata had purchased more than twenty years before. The house wasn’t anything special from the outside, but its proximity to Davis Square and Harvard Square made it a fruitful investment. She’d make a hefty profit if she ever sold, but in the meantime, the rental unit probably paid her mortgage.

Fina rang the bell twice before it was answered by a girl who looked to be a tween.

“Is your mom home?” Fina asked.

“Mom!” the girl yelled over her shoulder. “There’s a lady here to see you.” She stared at Fina.

“Are you Alexa?” Fina extended her hand. “I’m Fina.”

The girl shook her hand firmly and leaned on the open door. She had light brown skin and curly hair to her shoulders. She was creeping from plump to fat, a trajectory that Fina hoped would be halted for Alexa’s sake. Kids were cruel.

Renata came to the door. “Alexa, finish getting ready for camp.” She gently nudged her daughter’s shoulder. “You’ve caught us during our morning mad dash, Fina.”

In Fina’s experience, even the most organized households had morning mad dashes, especially if there were children present. It was just one of the reasons she relished her solitude. She could barely feed and clothe herself, let alone small, moody people.

“Sorry about that. I assumed you wanted to get the ball rolling. I’ll be quick.”

Fina followed her into the kitchen. It was a modest space overlooking a back porch and yard. The cabinets were white laminate circa 1985, and the appliances were also white. The granite and stainless steel de rigueur in today’s kitchens were nowhere in evidence. Alexa sat at the small round kitchen table slurping up a bowl of cereal.

“Alexa, sit up,” Renata said.

Fina pulled out the chair across from the girl and sat down.

“Would you like some coffee?” Renata held up a pot.

“Yes, thanks.”

Fina would have preferred a diet soda, her caffeine delivery system of choice, but part of being a PI was making people feel comfortable. Generally, people felt most comfortable when you made the same choices they did.

“Cream and sugar?”

“Yes, please.”

Renata poured the steaming liquid into a mug that read
GIRL SCOUTS BUILD BRIDGES
and handed it to Fina. A sugar bowl was already on the table, and Renata plunked down a small cardboard carton of cream. Fina doctored her drink and took a tentative sip.

“Alexa, could you please get your sister and your backpack?”

Alexa sat up straight. “Rosie!” she yelled.

“I said ‘get her,’ not ‘scream her name,’” Renata said in exasperation.

Alexa pushed her chair back from the table and left the room.

“That used to drive my parents crazy,” Fina said.

Renata nodded. “We did it, too, although when you live in a tiny space, you’re usually already in the same room.”

“Did you grow up in Somerville?” Fina asked. She knew Renata hadn’t, but it was always interesting to ask questions to which you already knew the answer.

“Lawrence, with four younger siblings in a three-bedroom apartment.”

“Sounds like a lot of together time.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t all bad. Sometimes I think kids today have too much of everything.” She looked at Fina pointedly. You didn’t need to know much about the Ludlows to know that they fell into the “too much of everything” category.

Fina shrugged. “I don’t have kids, so I really can’t say.”

The smacking of flip-flops interrupted the conversation, and Rosie Sanchez entered the room. She was extremely pretty, with long curly brown hair. Her features were delicate and free of makeup. Cutoff shorts flattered her lean, smooth legs, and a stack of woven bracelets encircled one wrist.

“Rosie, this is Fina Ludlow, the investigator I told you about.”

Rosie looked at Fina, then back at her mother. “Mom, I’m late for work.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll call them and tell them you’ll be late.”

“What?” Rosie asked.

“It’s not a problem,” Renata said, and drank her coffee.

“You’re going to call the animal shelter? Mom, I’m an adult. You can’t call my work.”

Renata gripped her coffee cup. “Rosie, this is important, and they’ll understand.”

Rosie threw open the refrigerator door and bent down to scan the contents. “You don’t get it. It’s not your place to call my work or manage my schedule.”

“I was just trying to help.” Renata looked hurt.

Fina’s heart sank. She knew this dynamic well: the complete lack of boundaries that felt like a constant violation to the daughter, and the apparent lack of appreciation that felt like ungratefulness to the mother.

“You know what?” Fina said. “We can do this later.” She took her coffee cup to the sink, then reached into her bag and handed her card to Rosie. “Why don’t you call me, and we’ll set up a time that works for you.”

Rosie eyed her skeptically. “Fine.”

“It won’t take long. I just wanted to ask you some questions and do a quick swab.”

Rosie’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Fina looked at Renata, who avoided her gaze by studying the carton of cream. “You didn’t tell her?”

Rosie slammed the fridge door closed. The cereal boxes on top swayed. “Mom, what’s going on?”

“She knows all about the lawsuit,” Renata reassured Fina. “We talked about this, Rosie.”

“We didn’t talk about any swab.”

“Fina is trying to identify your donor while we proceed with the lawsuit. She needs a DNA swab to get started.”

Rosie stared at her mother. “You have lost your fucking mind,” she finally said.

“Rosie!” Renata stood up from the table and glared at her daughter. “Watch your mouth, young lady!”

“There’s no way in hell I’m giving a DNA sample. I can’t believe you would even ask. I’m not some science experiment, you know.”

“It will help our case.”

“
Your
case. This is
your
case, Mom. I don’t want any part of it.” She turned on her heel and flip-flopped out of the room.

Renata walked over to the sink. She took a deep breath and then looked at Fina. “She’ll come around. We just have to give her time.”

“This is a terrible idea.” Fina looked at her. “Pursuing this could seriously damage your relationship with your daughter.”

Renata turned her back to Fina and twisted the faucet on. The vigorous hand washing that followed would have met the surgical standards at Mass General. Renata flicked the excess water off her hands before rubbing them with a dish towel. She turned back toward Fina.

“Didn’t you just tell me you don’t have children?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, then, I appreciate your concern, but your parenting advice is not required.”

“All righty then.” Fina headed to the front door. “I’ll be in touch.”

Back on the sidewalk, Fina kicked an empty can with her toe and watched as it clattered across the street and into a storm drain. If Renata wasn’t going to listen to reason, maybe Fina should stop wasting her breath.

•   •   •

“What can I do for law enforcement this fine day?” Fina asked Cristian when he joined her at a diner in the South End.

“Actually, I have a favor to ask, strictly off the books.”

“Shoot.”

Cristian Menendez was a detective with the Major Crimes unit of the Boston Police Department. He and Fina had met at a crime scene more than a decade earlier and had been friends and occasional adversaries ever since.

“I need you to run a background check on this guy.” He pushed a slip of paper across the table and righted his coffee cup so the waitress could fill it. Fina looked at the name.

“Who’s Brad Martin?”

Cristian nodded his thanks to the waitress, whose gaze lingered on him. His Spanish and Puerto Rican ancestry melded into a pleasing package of cinnamon-colored skin and wavy hair. Haley had once categorized him as a hottie, and Fina had to concur.

He had some coffee and cleared his throat. “Marissa’s seeing him.”

Fina grinned. “You want me to run a check on your ex-wife’s new boyfriend? I thought you always took the high road.”

“I couldn’t care less who Marissa dates, but I want to know who’s hanging around my son.” Matteo was Cristian’s three-year-old.

“That seems reasonable, but why not just look yourself?” She sipped ice water from a clear plastic cup.

“Using city resources to snoop on your ex is frowned upon.”

“As it should be, but I’m happy to do it.”

“I don’t want to hire you officially, though.”

“No problem. I’m too busy for any other official jobs right now, so it won’t be in my records. Just the usual stuff?”

Cristian nodded. “I owe you.”

“Hardly.” Cristian had saved her butt more than once.

“What are you working on that’s keeping you so busy ‘officially’?” he asked.

“Just a total clusterfuck of an investigation related to one of Carl’s cases. It has the potential to blow up in everyone’s faces.”

“Sounds like business as usual at Ludlow and Associates.”

“Pretty much.”

“How’s Haley doing?”

Fina unconsciously touched her nose. “She’s fine.”

Cristian didn’t say anything. He looked at Fina.

“I
think
she’s fine,” she conceded. “Okay, I really don’t have a clue. I took her boxing yesterday, and she nailed me in the nose.”

He leaned toward her and examined her face. “Since when do you know how to box?”

“Since practically the day I was born!”

“You know how to hit. That’s different from boxing. If you want her to learn some skills, I’ll take her.” Cristian was one of those cops who could actually run after a suspect and pitch himself over a chain-link fence. His father had died young from a heart attack, and he was determined to avoid the same fate, so he took good care of himself.

“I wanted to give her an outlet for her anger, blow off some steam. Plus, everybody should know how to defend themselves.”

The waitress stopped by and expertly topped off Cristian’s coffee, the two steaming pots like appendages on the ends of her arms.

“She’s probably got anger to spare,” he noted.

“That’s why I think she needs an outlet. I don’t want her to snap one of these days and shoot up her school or plant a bomb in her underwear.”

“Is she seeing someone?”

“I assume you mean a therapist and not a boyfriend. Yes, Patty takes her twice a week.”

“Does Haley talk to you about it?”

“Which ‘it’? Her mother dying? Her father being a pedophile? Her brief foray into the world of escorts?”

“Any of it.”

“Cristian.” Fina put down her water and looked at him. “I think we can agree I’m way out of my depth on this one. So I asked myself, ‘What would Oprah do?’ and the answer I came up with was ‘Listen, but don’t push.’”

He gave her a pitying smile. “At least you’re trying. What about the rest of the family?”

“Scotty and Patty and Matthew are on board. Carl and Elaine are on another planet.”

“And Rand?”