AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Maybe she was like Finley and used wine as her cure-all.
Finley crossed back to where Ventura waited. “Thanks for the tour. I may want to do this again. You okay with that?”
“Anytime.” He smiled. “You have my number.”
Yeah. She had his number. The detective was a serious flirt.
Or maybe he was just curious about the woman who’d melted down in a courtroom and had to be restrained. And who’d survived such a brutal attack while watching her husband die.
On the way down the stairs, he asked, “Why does it matter if he liked to sing in the shower?”
Whether it mattered or not was more related to the stealth of the killer, but it was just another of the many, many details that could prove useful in any given case. “The killer attacked him from behind. Why didn’t he hear the approach?”
He grinned. “I can answer that one,” he said proudly.
Finley descended the final step and waited for him. “Let’s hear it, then.”
“The house has a killer sound system throughout. There was music playing. Not really loud, but it was playing. I turned it off after I arrived on the scene.”
Winthrop hadn’t mentioned the music, but if it played routinely, she might not have thought to bring it up. Finley considered that music had been playing at the Winthrop offices as well.
At the front door Finley peeled off the protective wear and handed it to the detective. “Thanks again.”
When she would have turned away, he said, “You’re nicer than I thought you’d be.”
She shifted back to him. “No, Detective, I’m really not.”
Then she was out of there. She still had Vivian Ortez to interview, and she now needed to talk to Ellen Winthrop. Being in Winthrop’s house had roused questions Finley needed to ask the widow, a.k.a. the suspected killer.
8
3:05 p.m.
Winthrop Financial Consulting Group
Commerce Street, Nashville
Vivian Ortez, a member of the five, waited for Finley in the lobby of the top floor when she arrived.
“Ms.O’Sullivan, nice to meet you.” She extended her hand. “I apologize for not being available this morning.”
“Thank you for making time for me now.”
Ortez flashed a practiced smile. “Of course. Let’s make our way to my office. I hope the reporters still flocked outside didn’t give you any trouble.”
“Not really. Your security folks have them on a tight leash.” A few questions had been shouted at Finley, but she’d just kept walking. Same old drill.
Not surprisingly, Ortez’s office was the first in the wide corridor. As head of security, she would want to be situated between the lobby and the heart of the firm. The glass walls darkened as soon as the door was closed behind them.
Ortez indicated the pair of chairs in front of her desk. “Would you care for a refreshment?”
“No thanks.” Finley settled into the first of the two chairs and waited while Ortez claimed her own on the other side of the desk.
Ortez was a petite woman. Five one or two, maybe ninety pounds. Lush black hair secured in a french twist. There was a time when Finley had wrangled her hair into neat arrangements and worn sleek business suits like the pale-lilac one Ortez wore. She’d stopped bothering afterthatnight. In the beginning she hadn’t cared whether she lived or died, which put her wardrobe well below any level of consideration. After Jack insisted she come to work for him, he paid no attention to what she wore or how she styled her hair as long as it didn’t put off clients.
“As you know, I oversee the firm’s security team,” Ortez said, pulling Finley back to the present. “Where would you like to begin?”
“How many employees work on your security team?” Seemed a good enough starting place.
