Identity by Ingrid Thoft Page B

family members; it was painted a neutral color and had two comfortable couches and framed prints on the wall. There was a small round table surrounded by four chairs. Pitney took a seat and pointed at another for Fina.
    “Not an interview room? I think you’re starting to like me,” Fina said.
    “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
    Fina and Pitney had a love-hate relationship. They were often on opposite sides of the fence, but each recognized in the other a smart, competent woman. Their interactions were fraught with lies, bickering, and grudging respect. They had most recently been at odds duringthe investigation of Melanie’s death, but Fina had provided Pitney with key information and hadn’t covered for her brother in traditional Ludlow fashion. Fina hoped this had earned her some points with the lieutenant.
    “So you called, and I came,” Fina said.
    “I’d like to get some things clear about the Hank Reardon case.” Pitney rested her hand on a folder on the table; her coral-colored nails looked like small wounds against the manila. They were a sharp contrast to her royal blue pants and red-striped blouse. Her gun sat on her right hip. Pitney was short and round and always brought to mind an armed garden gnome.
    Fina sat back in her chair. “I know nothing about his death.”
    “How is it that every time I turn around, you’re up to your neck in one of my cases?”
    “You’re being a little dramatic. We were hired by Renata Sanchez to identify her donor and possibly sue the cryobank. I investigated, learned Hank’s identity, and the concerned parties were in talks.”
    “But now one of the concerned parties is dead.”
    “A man worth billions who had his share of enemies. I certainly hope your investigation is going to look at all possible suspects, not just the ones associated with my family.”
    “What do you think?”
    “Just checking.”
    There was a tap at the door, and Cristian popped his head in. “Lieutenant, we’re ready for you.”
    Pitney got up from her seat. “Don’t get in the way, and tell Cristian what you know.”
    “Some of it is covered by privilege,” Fina reminded her.
    “Share what you can according to the law. Otherwise, you’re looking at obstruction.”
    Fina scoffed. “You deem my very existence obstructive.”
    “And I’m the one who’s dramatic?”
    “I can’t help it; it runs in the family.”
    “Good-bye, Fina.” Pitney left the room, and Cristian took her seat.
    “What do you have for me?” he asked.
    Fina sighed and gave him an overview of her investigation into Hank Reardon and his offspring. It didn’t take long.
    “Have you seen that guy again? The one in the park?” Cristian asked.
    “Nope. Maybe I was just being paranoid.”
    Cristian looked at her. “You’re many things, but paranoid isn’t one of them.”
    “Well, thank you.” Fina smiled.
    Cristian grinned and shook his head. “Watch your back.”
    “Oh, stop with the sweet nothings.”
    Fina left the station satisfied that she’d done her civic duty for the day.
    •   •   •
    Back at Nanny’s, Fina fielded a concerned phone call from the building manager. Apparently, members of the press had connected her to Hank’s “coming out” as a donor and were eager to talk to her. They’d spent the day hanging around, annoying the other residents. It wasn’t the first time that Fina had brought the media to the building, and there was talk of her violating homeowners’ association rules.
    “You’re not serious,” she told the manager.
    “It’s disruptive, Ms. Ludlow. This is a quiet building, and the residents value their privacy.”
    “Well, the press aren’t interested in them,” she noted.
    He was silent.
    “Fine. I’ll take care of it.” She hung up and retreated to the bedroom. After stripping off her clothes and climbing into bed naked, Fina lay on her back and looked at the ceiling.
    Renata Sanchez really was the gift that kept on giving.

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