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“She’s an amazing woman,” Finley noted. “I’m sure we could all learn a great deal from her.”
Maybe more than Ellen Winthrop had bargained for when she hired the Finnegan Firm. Finley had every intention of digging up all there was to know.
Whether Winthrop understood or not, the more Finley discovered about her, the better Jack could protect her.
9
5:48 p.m.
Twelfth and Pine
Finley had parked across the street in the Turnip Truck lot, a much-celebrated natural foods store in the area of downtown Nashville known as the Gulch. She had arrived early for the appointment in hopes she could spot and identify the caller when she arrived.
The meeting location was the Two Hippies restaurant, which had closed after the extended pandemic, and so far no other business had taken over the space. The rear parking lot was empty. Didn’t mean her caller hadn’t arrived, just meant she’d possibly parked someplace else. Unless she was a total idiot, that would be the smart thing to do. Finley would know soon enough.
Her cell vibrated on the console, drawing her attention long enough to identify the caller.
Ellen Winthrop.
Finley had expected a call after her impromptu visit to Pettit. Winthrop liked being in charge. She liked laying out the game plan and being informed of any changes.
“O’Sullivan.”
“Ms.O’Sullivan,” Winthrop said, her voice tight.
“Finley,” she countered before the other woman could go on. “How was your meeting with Jack and Detective Ventura?”
Frustration hummed across the line. “It was nothing more than a rehashing of what we’d already been over. I’m sure Jack will fill you in.”
Finley imagined the meeting was about more than what they’d already discussed, but like Winthrop said, Jack would fill her in.
“It was my understanding,” Winthrop said sharply, “that we—meaning myself and my partners—and you and Jack would keep each other informed of any updates or steps as we progressed forward with this investigation.”
“That strategy is best for all concerned,” Finley agreed. The woman would need to say the words. Finley wasn’t going to say them for her.
“With that in mind, I’m curious as to why you made an unannounced visit to my friend Laney. I would have preferred to be made aware of your intentions, and I can tell you that Laney doesn’t care for unexpected interviews. This was most disconcerting for her and for me.”
Finley paused a moment to choose her words. Winthrop was their client, and it was best not to anger her any more than she already had. Better to placate her than to explain the importance of finding cracks in her story. One of Finley’s primary goals was to find any potential cracks or issues before the police did. No surprises—that was the best strategy for any case, particularly one that proceeded to trial.
“Jack and I will be interviewing many people,” Finley explained. “We’ll be turning over countless rocks. This is what we have to do in order to keep you clear of a murder charge.”
“I’m very much aware of what must be done.”
Finley sighed. Her placating strategy hadn’t worked. Oh well, it rarely did. She always tried. Sort of.
To hell with it, then. “In that case, you should have told us you were in therapy. It’s very important that we are made aware of anything the police could potentially learn and perhaps use against you. Poking around in your personal history is essential to the right outcome.”
A moment of silence.
Finley sensed the irritation building. Funny how that happened with certain clients. Usually, it was the ones who had something to hide.
“I did not kill my husband.” Winthrop’s voice trembled on the last. “You and Jack are my duly designated representatives. It’s understandably important to me that you believe in my innocence. Somehow I’m not feeling that right now.”
Surprising how a woman at the top of her career game and who all proclaimed as exceedingly strong could suddenly be so needy. Finley let it go. Why make this harder than it needed to be?
Before Finley could start placating again, Ellen threw in, “Perhaps I should speak directly with Jack on the matter.”
“Jack will tell you the same thing I’m telling you. Your innocence is presumed.” She didn’t point out that this was the law on the matter. Winthrop no doubt was aware. “As I have explained, our job, mine in particular, is to look for what the police can find. Do you think for one second Detective Ventura is going to ask for your blessing before doing interviews? The answer is no. You can be assured that right now, at this very moment, he is scouring everything in your universe in hopes of finding a crack. A hole. A lie or a secret of any sort that might help his case.”
