Houser had to be wrong.
Somewhere in the living room her cell rang.
She slid her feet into sandals and went in search of the annoying sound. It stopped ringing and promptly started again before she found it between the cushions of the sofa. The low-battery warning flashed on the screen.
What else was new?
“O’Sullivan,” she said in greeting to the caller not registered in her contact list. California number, so she figured it was Olivia.
“I need to talk to you.”
Yep. “Is everything all right, Olivia?”
“I’m worried about . . .” A sigh hissed over the line. “I’m very concerned about my sister. Can we meet somewhere? I really don’t want to do this on the phone.”
“Sure. Your hotel?” Where was her bag? Finley surveyed the room, instantly ticking off all the stuff that needed to be done. Vacuuming. Dusting.
Like that was going to happen.
“I think somewhere else.” She hesitated. “I feel like I’m being watched here.”
Finley stilled. “Have you actually seen someone, or is this just a feeling?”
“Just a feeling, I suppose. But I can’t shake it.”
“How about the Frothy Monkey on Twelfth? Do you know the place?”
“I do. What time works for you?”
“I’ll meet you there in half an hour.” She wanted to check on Jack. Give him an update.
“Thank you. I really appreciate being able to call you like this.”
Finley assured her it was no problem and ended the call. She tapped Jack’s name in her contact list. He answered immediately. A good sign.
“Good morning,” he announced. “I am alive and sober. Thank you for checking.”
Finley rolled her eyes and locked the front door on her way out. “You’re a grown man, Jack. Why would I be checking on you?” she lied. “I just called to let you know I’m meeting with Olivia this morning. She has some concerns about her sister.”
“Sounds like she trusts you. Make the most of it, Fin. One or all of these ladies is keeping secrets. We need to know what those secrets are.”
“I’ll work on the daughters,” Finley said as she climbed into her car. Even this early in the morning, the heat inside was stifling. She powered the windows down and started the engine. Hot air blasted from the vents.
“I’ll talk to Sophia today. See what she has to say.”
“No face-to-face meeting with her without me,” Finley reminded him. “A phone call will be sufficient. You got that, Jack?” Finley backed out of her driveway, noted the older lady across the street watering her plants. The woman was always watching.
She’s a little nosy, but she’s just lonely.
Derrick said this whenever Finley grumbled about the lady. He had made it a point to always greet her when he saw her outside. He was too nice. Nicer than Finley for sure.
“Got it,” he promised.
Finley waggled her fingers at the lady as she drove away. She didn’t wave back, just stood there with her water hose in hand, watching. So much for trying to be friendly.
“Good. We’ll talk later,” she said, ending the call.
On the way to the coffee shop, Finley called a friend who worked in the Nashville Driver’s License Division. He promised to see what he could find on an Alisha Arrington. Anything would be more than she’d discovered. The only Alisha Arrington she’d found in the Nashville area was a newly graduated high schooler headed for Lipscomb this fall. She also called Holly Thompson and left a message. Nita had listed the number as the former roommate’s cell. Hopefully she would call back.
Olivia was waiting at a table as deep in a corner as was possible in the small café. She’d ordered two coffees. Finley was grateful for more caffeine.
“Cecelia is out of control,” Olivia said, getting straight down to business. “She’s behaving erratically and ranting like a crazy person.” Her shoulders sagged. “Honestly, I think she is mentally unstable. I’m certain Mother is not safe in the same house with her.”
“They’ve been living together all this time while you were away without any trouble that was reported. Do you think it’s because of what Holmes is doing? Opening up the case again?”
Olivia searched Finley’s eyes, her own filled with urgency. “Yes. I think this whole thing has pushed her over the edge. I am truly worried about Mother.”
“Did your mother share this information with you? It’s my understanding you’re not visiting the house. How do you know what’s going on there?”