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Tuesday, December 5
The Tennessean
West End, Nashville, 10:30 a.m.
Maureen Downey, the newspaper’s managing editor for the past twenty-five years, had agreed to meet with Finley. Whether she wanted to help or hoped for a scoop was yet to be seen.
Finley waited in Downey’s private lobby on the top floor of the shiny glass building once called Palmer Plaza. TheTennesseanhad moved to this location a few years back. It was one of the few newspapers that remained available in newsstands and via delivery to doorsteps. TheTennesseanwas still the go-to source for folks in the Nashville area.
The assistant finally looked up and smiled. “Ms.Downey can see you now.” She gestured to the double doors on the other side of the lobby. “Go right on in, Ms.O’Sullivan.”
Finley stood. “Thank you.”
She crossed the small lobby and entered the private domain beyond. Unlike the waiting area, which lacked windows, the office showcased a spectacular view of the city. In the middle of that panoramic view was a wide desk seemingly sculpted from glass and stone. The womanin charge stood behind it. She gave a nod, and the door behind Finley closed. She hadn’t realized the assistant had followed her.
“Ms.O’Sullivan.” Downey smiled as she skirted her desk. “Very nice to meet you.”
Finley met her in the middle of the room and grasped her outstretched hand. “The pleasure is mine, Ms.Downey.”
Downey was tall and trim. Even close up, she looked younger than Finley had expected for someone with more than forty years in a tough business. Blonde hair that just touched her shoulders and an attractive face that featured the fine lines created by time and a full life.
“Please, join me.” Downey moved to the group of comfortable chairs that took advantage of the glorious view. “Can I get you anything? Water? Coffee?”
“No thank you.” Finley took one of the chairs facing her host.
Downey crossed her legs and stretched her arms along the back of the wide white leather chair she’d chosen. She appeared relaxed, comfortable in her own skin. “You want to know about Lou—that’s what we called her,” she said, kicking off the conversation. “One of my all-time favorite people. We were dear friends for many years. I adored her. She helped me through the most difficult time in my life—the death of my husband. I can’t imagine how I would have gotten through it without her.”
When she said no more, Finley explained, “I’m hoping to find her, actually. Metro PD is reopening her daughter’s murder case, and I would very much like to speak with Ms.Cagle.”
Downey nodded, her expression shifting to one slightly more guarded. “I see. Evidently Metro is keeping this very quiet, because I had not heard.”
With the kinds of sources this woman had no doubt cultivated over the decades, Finley didn’t see how that was possible, but she opted not to say as much. Then again, Houser was particularly careful with the release of information.
“This is the very early stages. An exploration of options, actually.”
Finley felt confident Houser would be meeting with this woman soon enough. He had sent Finley a text this morning and asked if they could catch up at lunch. His morning was wall-to-wall meetings she suspected were related to the Cagle case. Finley hadn’t mentioned her appointment with Downey when she responded. She and Houser were friends, but this was work. This was about her client.
“I will tell you,” Downey said before drawing in a deep breath, “I have not heard from Lou since a few weeks after her husband’s funeral—around Thanksgiving, I believe. When Lucy was murdered”—she closed her eyes for a moment—“it was a terrible, terrible time. Lou and I both had daughters the same age. Our only children. We were both nearing forty before we jumped into the parenthood game.” She smiled. “And then our girls gave us so much joy we regretted having waited so long.” She gave a nod. “You may have heard, my Jessica is running for a state senate seat next year.”
“Congratulations.” Finley produced the expected smile. She’d noticed a headline in theTennesseanabout the candidates for that seat but hadn’t skimmed the article. “I’m sure you’re very proud.”
“I am. After law school and several years in private practice, Jessica felt she wanted to do more for the community.” Her eyebrows raised. “I’m hearing rumors you’re having similar thoughts. That your intention is to give Briggs a run for his money next year.”
Finley’s lips strained to keep a smile in place. “I’m considering the possibility.”
“Can I quote you on that?”
For two beats Finley didn’t respond, and then the hesitation was gone. The uncertainty vanished. “Of course.”
Downey smiled. “Excellent.”
Back to business. “Did Ms.Cagle move away?” Finley could see how Cagle would want to leave the life that had been so shattered. After her husband’s murder, Finley had waffled between wanting to disappearcompletely and wanting to do all in her power to get the people responsible. The latter had won out in the end.
“I wish I knew. I can’t tell you how I’ve missed my friend. Wherever she is, she has abandoned everything and everyone who was a part of her life. She had a brother who has since passed. He stopped hearing from her the same time the rest of us did. Her parents died before Lucy was born. Her in-laws, who lived down in Florida until they passed; close friends here; no one heard from her again after her husband’s funeral. Her house was abandoned. I was so worried about her, and for years I felt certain she would eventually come back to us. So much so I kept the outdoor maintenance up and paid the taxes on the property for her. God knows it’s the least I could do. The paper is still making money on Lou’s work, and she had made investments in the paper’s stock eons ago. But I suppose at some point I’ll have to make other arrangements.”
“Because she never came back,” Finley pointed out.
Downey pressed her lips together for a somber moment before responding. “She did not. And if anyone knew how to disappear without leaving a trace, it was Lou. She was as good as any detective. Better than some.”
