“No way. She wanted to make sure Cecelia and Olivia were cleared of any wrongdoing. She wouldn’t take the easy way out. Not until this was done anyway.”
“That was my thinking.” Finley gave him a quick overview of her meeting with Holmes.
“Does this Paradise he mentioned mean anything to you?” Jack said, sounding weary.
“Doesn’t ring a bell for me. I’ll touch base with Detective Montrose and see if he can offer any insights into what Holmes may have meant.”
“Check in when you can.”
“Will do.” She tossed her phone aside.
If Cecelia and Olivia had nothing to hide, they should come forward and help work this all out.
Both were lying. Keeping secrets.
She thought of Cherry Prescott Inglewood. She had her own secrets.
Honestly, most people did. The only real trouble was if the part they kept to themselves really mattered in this grand scheme.
Seth Henderson’s widow firmly believed that Cherry had an affair with her husband. But Cherry insisted it was Legard with whom she was having an affair. What about Sophia and her affair with Jack?
There was Alex Collins. He’d been close to Legard. Close enough to know things, and yet he’d never said a word about the P-trap or Henderson five years ago during the investigation into Legard’s murder. He was Legard’s assistant, and yet he hadn’t seemed to know about the man’s alleged obsession with Cherry.
They’d all lied.
Did that make any of them murderers?
Who knew? Finley damn well intended to find out.
26
3:00 p.m.
Montrose Residence
Delmas Avenue
Nashville
Retired Detective Montrose lived in a nice neighborhood in a neat little craftsman bungalow. Finley was surprised at the array of blooms bursting in the landscape. Evidently the man had a green thumb. Finley would kill a plastic plant.
She’d called, and he’d agreed to meet. He’d asked that she come to his house since his recent round of chemotherapy had given him hell.
She knocked on the door, and he called out for her to come in. It was cool inside, a much-needed respite from the muggy heat outside.
“In the living room,” he said a little less loudly and a whole lot shakier.
The narrow entry hall led directly into the kitchen, passing the living room on the left and the dining room on the right. Montrose sat in a recliner, various prescription bottles and a large drinking cup with a straw on the table next to him.
He chuckled, the sound weak. “Spending my life as a cop, I always figured I’d go down in a shootout or a high-speed chase. I never expected dying to look like this.”
Finley made herself at home on his sofa. “I guess there’s something to be said for a measure of advance notice.”
“Maybe.” He glanced around the room. “I’d offer you tea or something, but you’d have to go the self-service route.”
“No need. I’m good. Really.”
“You said on the phone you had an opportunity to speak with Holmes. I won’t ask how that came about. I do hope it was worth the effort. He likes to play games.”
“He knew who I was, which I’d expected.” A frown needled its way across her forehead. “I’m sure you heard about Sophia Legard’s death.”
“I did.” His chest rattled with a deep, shaky breath. “Makes you wonder if we’ll ever really know what happened in that family.” He shook his head. “I wonder if in the end she still thought all she’d done to protect her daughters was worth it.”
As Cherry Inglewood had pointed out, Finley didn’t have children, so she couldn’t answer the question. She could, however, say with complete certainty that she would marry Derrick again even if it meant living through the night he was murdered all over again. Was loving him worth the pain?
Yes.
Even if he lied to you?
Finley dismissed the thought. “Do you believe one or both of the Legard twins might be capable of murder?”
“No question,” he insisted. “Is either one capable of planning and executing a murder? Maybe not. An impulse kill is a whole different animal. I believe anyone could be capable of murder if the circumstances were just right. But to deliberately set out to take a life—to plan it just so—is something else altogether.”
Finley basically agreed with his assessment. “Holmes said a couple of things to me that I’m trying to fit into this puzzle.”
“Let’s hear them. Maybe I can help. I suppose I know as much as anyone about the evil bastard.”