Brutality by Ingrid Thoft Page B

day.”
    “Does he have a current relationship with Liz?”
    “That’s not clear. Speaking of relationships, how’s Cindy?”
    “She’s good.”
    “Just good?”
    “Just good.” He pulled on his oversized gloves.
    “Well, I’m glad we’re going to the Disney thing. I feel like I haven’t seen you much recently, not since your dating life took off.”
    Cristian frowned at her. “I don’t have that much time to begin with, you know that. It’s work and Matteo, mostly.”
    “I understand,” Fina assured him. “I’m not complaining. I just miss hanging out.”
    “Me too.”
    Silence hung in the air between them.
    “At least we’re working together again,” Fina offered, grinning.
    “We do have that,” Cristian said.
    “You act like you don’t approve of my methods, but secretly you think I’m a stellar investigator.”
    “Whatever you need to tell yourself,” he said. “See ya.”
    He waddled over to the edge of the rink and stepped onto the ice. Fina hightailed it to her car and sat for a moment letting the hot air blow over her, reassessing her earlier conclusion: Even a little bit of Cristian was worth freezing her ass off.
    —
    F ina decided to make a stop before heading home and pointed her car toward Newton. The MetroWest suburb was one of the wealthiest in the region, but it also had its share of ranch houses and Cape Cods. Fifty-six Wellspring Street was one of those ranch houses, with a tidy yard and a flagpole by the door that always held a season-appropriate flag. Fina pulled over in front of the house and swore at the sight that greeted her.
    Once she was out of her car, she hollered at the man in the driveway. “What are you doing?”
    “What does it look like I’m doing?” Frank Gillis responded.
    “It looks like you’re trying to have a heart attack!” Fina went over and took the shovel out of his hand. “First of all, you’re not supposed to be shoveling. Second of all, I don’t even understand what you’re shoveling. This is all going to melt in a day or two.”
    “There was a little patch of ice, and I didn’t want the mail carrier to slip.”
    “Stop worrying about everyone else.” Fina gently nudged him toward the front door, where she leaned the shovel against the house. “If Peg sees you doing this, she’ll kill you.”
    Frank Gillis was the former Ludlow and Associates investigator who’d taught Fina everything she knew—except for the illegal stuff, which she’d learned on her own. Frank was her professional mentor, and he and his wife, Peg, were her second family. They filled the hole in her life created by Carl and Elaine’s lack of parenting skills.
    Fina followed him into the house, where they deposited their outer layers before heading into the kitchen.
    “Do you want some coffee?” Frank asked, pulling the pot from the coffeemaker and pouring himself a cup.
    “No, thanks.” She reached into the fridge and grabbed a diet soda instead.
    They walked into the family room, where Frank lowered himself into a recliner. Fina took a seat on the couch next to his chair.
    “Seriously, didn’t the doctor tell you not to do any demanding manual labor?” she asked.
    “Sweetie, it really was just a patch of ice.”
    “So what? Do you think your heart can differentiate between a big patch and a little patch?”
    Frank sighed. “You’re overreacting.”
    “I really don’t want to visit you in the hospital if you have a heart attack or a stroke. I’m not great with illness; you know that.”
    He reached out and patted her hand. “I know. It’s all about you.”
    Fina glared at him. “So you don’t mind if I tell Peg what you were doing?”
    Frank held up a finger. “What did I teach you about discretion? Let’s talk about something more pleasant: What are you working on these days?”
    “You know that woman, Liz Barone, who was attacked in her house in Hyde Park?”
    He nodded. “I saw it on the news.”
    “Her mother has hired me to