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“I’ll look into it.” Ellen Winthrop was the firm’s client. That alone entitled her to a certain degree of loyalty. Marsh had done nothing to deserve any sort of trust, much less loyalty. “Do you have a name for this mystery person?”
“Laney Pettit.”
Now she had a smidgen of Finley’s attention. “When did Grady tell you all this?” Having her repeat aspects of her story was a good way to reveal inconsistencies.
“When we got back together last month, he started sharing all his concerns.” Marsh stared into her cup for a moment. “We were going to leave together.”
No surprise there. Finley figured Marsh knew exactly where the missing money was.
“Were you in Atlanta with him?” If she was spilling all these truths, she might as well spill that one too.
“On Friday night, yes.” She closed her eyes as if saying the next part was particularly difficult. “I came back early on Saturday. I was supposed to get ready for leaving. He told me to pack whatever I needed to take with me. I had everything ready, but he never called me. Then I heard ...” She swiped at her eyes. “Believe what you will, but I’m telling you she killed him the same way she killed Nora Duncan.”
“Where were the two of you going?” Finley had to admit, Marsh put on a believable show. But there was a little something missing. Or maybe it was just all too pat. Too carefully laid out.
“Miami. He had a contact there who planned to help us find work.”
“Did he give you the name of this contact?”
She shook her head, then took a deep breath. “That’s all I know. Thank you for listening to what I have to say. Telling you is the least I can do for Jarrod. He didn’t deserve to be murdered.”
Marsh shifted in her chair. Glanced at the entrance more than once. She was ready to leave this conversation.
“I just want to make sure I have everything,” Finley said before Marsh could mention leaving. “You and Jarrod had plans to go away together. Your affair resumed about a month ago. But you had no knowledge of him planning to steal money from his wife.”
“He never ever mentioned money. I’m telling you, this is her attempt to make him look like the guilty one. He was leaving her because of the things he had learned about her past and this ... this Duncan woman. He truly thought Ellen was some sort of psycho.”
The persistence in her voice spoke of more than she was sharing. “Was there something beyond his theory that she killed the Duncan woman—something specific—that set off alarm bells for him?”
“I’m sure there was. He may not have told me everything, but whatever he found in her past, including Nora Duncan, it was all connected to who she is and the things she and the others do.” Marsh stared earnestly at Finley. “If you believe nothing else I say, believe this: the Duncan woman’s death is pivotal to the answers you’re looking for. Ellen Winthrop and those women she surrounds herself with are certified psychos.”
Marsh did so like using that word. The repetition stirred Finley’s instincts in spite of her attempts to remain unaffected.
“Who is J.Grady?” Finley asked.
Marsh made a confused face. “Do you mean Jarrod?”
Finley shook her head. “Maybe a brother or someone else related to him or who just happens to have the same first initial.”
Marsh shrugged. “I’ve never heard of a J.Grady. If I had my guess, I’d say this is something else those bitches made up.”
Finley wondered if this receptionist—the other woman—was dead serious or playing a deadly game.
Why come to Finley with any of this? The idea made little sense.
Marsh left the shop first. Finley took her time finishing her coffee before doing the same. She had just reached for the door handle of her Subaru when a dark sedan on the street captured her attention. The car had slowed as if the driver intended to turn into the parking lot, but he didn’t.
Then Finley recognized the car. Her gaze went to the driver.
Flock.
He pointed a finger gun at her, then drove away.
Judging by the current score, he was the one who needed to be worried.
Two down, one to go.
Blakedale at Green Hills
