“Ms. O’Sullivan, I’m Detective Gordon Barry, and this is Detective Bob Tanner.”
Though she didn’t recognize the faces, she knew the names. The detectives on the Holmes/Legard case. Definitely not good.
“How can I help you, Detectives?”
“We need you to come downtown, ma’am. We have some questions.”
“You can ask me anything you’d like right here.” The home field advantage was always preferable.
The two shared a glance. So that wasn’t happening.
Ah, it gets worse.
“Ma’am.” Tanner spoke this time. “This will go a whole lot faster and a lot smoother if we just get on with it.”
Translation: Come with us quietly. Now. Or there will be unpleasant moments.
“I have the right to know what this is about,” she pointed out. Even a suspect being arrested had the right to know the reason.
“Cherry Inglewood went missing yesterday,” Detective Barry explained.
There it was—the not-good part she’d expected.
“What about her son? Is he okay?” Finley hoped this mess hadn’t spilled over to the child. Brantley was what? Four years old?
“Yes. He’s with his father,” Barry confirmed. “According to the home-security surveillance system, you were the last person besides her husband to see Mrs. Inglewood before she disappeared.”
Finley nodded her understanding. “I’ll get my shoes.”
She slid her feet into a pair of sneakers and grabbed her bag. Her cell was in the back pocket of her jeans. Since she hadn’t dressed for a trip downtown, she glanced at her chest to see what was plastered across her white tee. She’d grabbed the first one her fingers landed on this morning.
Allegedly, it proclaimed.
Fitting, she decided.
She locked her front door and followed the detectives to their car, where Tanner opened the rear passenger door for her.
“Thanks.” As she was getting in, she noticed Helen Roberts watering her plants and watching her. She didn’t bother looking away when Finley noticed her. She never did. Finley gave her a little wave, but the woman didn’t wave back. Just watched.
Finley didn’t really care what her neighbors thought of her. Once a murder happened in your house, everyone around you expected the worst.
If Cherry Inglewood was lucky, her disappearance would not be the worst-case scenario.
Nashville Metropolitan Police Department
Murfreesboro Pike
Nashville, 9:50 a.m.
The protocols for questioning were conducted the moment the three settled around a generic metal table in the blindingly white interview room. Finley was infinitely familiar with the proceedings.
“What was the purpose of your meeting with Mrs. Inglewood?” Detective Barry asked.
“She worked for Lance Legard at the time of his murder. Mrs. Inglewood was close to the family and interacted on a regular basis with Legard’s daughters, Olivia and Cecelia. Attorney Jackson Finnegan directed me to reconstruct the events surrounding the murder of Lance Legard—to the degree possible. In order to do so, it was important that I understand the relationships between the parties involved.”
“Did Mrs. Inglewood mention any concerns she had related to the case, or with any party involved with the case?”
“No.”
This was not the answer Barry had been hoping for, but Finley felt confident it was exactly what he’d expected considering she was an attorney—she wasn’t going to say more than necessary. Certainly not something that would cast her clients in a bad light.
“Did you feel she was in any way distressed or concerned for her safety?” Tanner asked, choosing a different strategy.
“I did not.” Unless her husband finding out what she and Cherry had talked about counted. “Have you questioned her husband? Statistics show that in most situations like this, the husband is involved.”
“The husband,” Barry said, annoyed now, “came home to find his four-year-old son alone because his wife was missing. He is not involved. He gave us free rein in the house and with the security system.”
Which, of course, made him innocent of any wrongdoing. “I wish I could help, gentlemen. Really I do. But I have only met Mrs. Inglewood on two occasions. Both times at her home, where the video surveillance surely shows my departure—alone.”
“What about your firm’s clients,” Tanner asked, “Cecelia and Olivia Legard? Cecelia has been named in the pending Holmes case. Can you vouch for the whereabouts of your clients?”