think cryobanks and sperm donation are the next big thing in lawsuits?”
“Damn right I do. Murder means passion, and passion means lawsuits.”
“Spoken like a hopeless romantic,” Fina said, walking out the door.
• • •
Fina pulled up to Renata’s house just as Renata was shepherding Alexa out the front door. Alexa looked camp-bound, with an overstuffed backpack and a towel in her hands. Renata was juggling a briefcase, an insulated lunch bag, and a plastic bag holding a pair of heels.
“Not now, Fina. I don’t have time,” she said while unlocking the car door.
“Renata, we need to talk.”
“And I don’t have time right now. Call me later.”
“Have you seen the news?” Fina glanced at Alexa, who seemed altogether too interested in the conversation.
“I really don’t have time for a guessing game.” Renata leaned down and started the car.
“Hank Reardon is dead.”
Alexa’s eyes grew wide.
Renata’s mouth opened and then closed. “Well, I don’t know what I can do about it,” she finally said.
“The police are going to want to interview you, and the press are going to be even more demanding.”
“Well, this isn’t my fault!” Renata protested.
“The murder may not be, but the media circus is. What were you thinking, going to the press?”
Renata studied the ground and avoided Fina’s gaze. “I just wanted to set things straight.”
“That really worked. Where’s Rosie, anyway?”
“She stayed with a friend last night.”
“Rosie was wicked mad,” Alexa offered helpfully.
Renata glared at her.
“Is that so?” Fina asked. “What was she mad about, Renata?”
“She wasn’t just mad at me, if that’s what you’re suggesting. She was also angry with Hank and his attempt to pay her off.”
“For Pete’s sake, why did you tell her about that?”
“It’s her life. She has a right to know.”
Fina shook her head in wonderment. “Renata, come into the office so we can talk about getting ahead of this story, and don’t talk to the cops without counsel.”
Renata ducked into her car. Fina watched her drive away.
• • •
In her car, Fina was scrolling through her e-mails when her phone rang. Cristian’s number lit up the display.
“What’s up? Did Brad Martin do something dramatic, like buy a new vacuum cleaner?”
“I’m glad you amuse yourself. You need to come by the station.”
Fina looked out the window; a petite woman was on the sidewalk being walked by a large black Lab. “Because?”
“Because Pitney wants to see you.”
“I don’t know who killed Hank Reardon.”
“She wants to talk.”
“Oh, blah, blah, blah. I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“That we know of.”
“Fine. I’ll stop by.”
“She wants to see you now.”
“Well, I’m a busy woman.”
“So is she, and she has the law on her side and a lot of people riding her ass.”
“Don’t antagonize her? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Nothing gets by you, Ludlow.”
“I’m on my way.”
• • •
“I’m here to see Lieutenant Pitney,” Fina announced at Boston Police headquarters twenty minutes later.
The desk sergeant gave her a weary once-over and pointed to the uncomfortable wooden benches across from his bulletproof perch. After tapping her toe for ten minutes, Fina got up and waited her turn behind a uniformed cop and his odiferous charge.
“Can you let Lieutenant Pitney know I stopped by? I’ll try to catch her later.”
“What’s your name?” The desk sergeant asked.
“Fina Ludlow.”
“Ah. In that case, ‘sit down and cool your jets.’ That’s what she said to tell you.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
Fina sat and waited. Ten more minutes passed, but she was done cooling her jets. She started toward the front door.
“Ludlow!”
“Dammit,” Fina said under her breath. She looked up to see Pitney at the top of the stairs, beckoning to her.
She led Fina to a room reserved for victims and
“Damn right I do. Murder means passion, and passion means lawsuits.”
“Spoken like a hopeless romantic,” Fina said, walking out the door.
• • •
Fina pulled up to Renata’s house just as Renata was shepherding Alexa out the front door. Alexa looked camp-bound, with an overstuffed backpack and a towel in her hands. Renata was juggling a briefcase, an insulated lunch bag, and a plastic bag holding a pair of heels.
“Not now, Fina. I don’t have time,” she said while unlocking the car door.
“Renata, we need to talk.”
“And I don’t have time right now. Call me later.”
“Have you seen the news?” Fina glanced at Alexa, who seemed altogether too interested in the conversation.
“I really don’t have time for a guessing game.” Renata leaned down and started the car.
“Hank Reardon is dead.”
Alexa’s eyes grew wide.
Renata’s mouth opened and then closed. “Well, I don’t know what I can do about it,” she finally said.
“The police are going to want to interview you, and the press are going to be even more demanding.”
“Well, this isn’t my fault!” Renata protested.
“The murder may not be, but the media circus is. What were you thinking, going to the press?”
Renata studied the ground and avoided Fina’s gaze. “I just wanted to set things straight.”
“That really worked. Where’s Rosie, anyway?”
“She stayed with a friend last night.”
“Rosie was wicked mad,” Alexa offered helpfully.
Renata glared at her.
“Is that so?” Fina asked. “What was she mad about, Renata?”
“She wasn’t just mad at me, if that’s what you’re suggesting. She was also angry with Hank and his attempt to pay her off.”
“For Pete’s sake, why did you tell her about that?”
“It’s her life. She has a right to know.”
Fina shook her head in wonderment. “Renata, come into the office so we can talk about getting ahead of this story, and don’t talk to the cops without counsel.”
Renata ducked into her car. Fina watched her drive away.
• • •
In her car, Fina was scrolling through her e-mails when her phone rang. Cristian’s number lit up the display.
“What’s up? Did Brad Martin do something dramatic, like buy a new vacuum cleaner?”
“I’m glad you amuse yourself. You need to come by the station.”
Fina looked out the window; a petite woman was on the sidewalk being walked by a large black Lab. “Because?”
“Because Pitney wants to see you.”
“I don’t know who killed Hank Reardon.”
“She wants to talk.”
“Oh, blah, blah, blah. I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“That we know of.”
“Fine. I’ll stop by.”
“She wants to see you now.”
“Well, I’m a busy woman.”
“So is she, and she has the law on her side and a lot of people riding her ass.”
“Don’t antagonize her? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Nothing gets by you, Ludlow.”
“I’m on my way.”
• • •
“I’m here to see Lieutenant Pitney,” Fina announced at Boston Police headquarters twenty minutes later.
The desk sergeant gave her a weary once-over and pointed to the uncomfortable wooden benches across from his bulletproof perch. After tapping her toe for ten minutes, Fina got up and waited her turn behind a uniformed cop and his odiferous charge.
“Can you let Lieutenant Pitney know I stopped by? I’ll try to catch her later.”
“What’s your name?” The desk sergeant asked.
“Fina Ludlow.”
“Ah. In that case, ‘sit down and cool your jets.’ That’s what she said to tell you.”
“Ugh. Fine.”
Fina sat and waited. Ten more minutes passed, but she was done cooling her jets. She started toward the front door.
“Ludlow!”
“Dammit,” Fina said under her breath. She looked up to see Pitney at the top of the stairs, beckoning to her.
She led Fina to a room reserved for victims and
Similar Books
