AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Houser looked away. “I think it might be better”—he reluctantly met her gaze once more—“if you asked your father about the details.”
The vague uncertainty she’d felt going down this road suddenly morphed into sheer dread. “You’re saying something else entirely.”
Not possible.No. No. No.Finley knew her father. He was a good guy ... a man above reproach. He would not ...could notbe involved in some way with any aspect of this case that was not on the up-and-up.
Impossible.
Houser stared at the ground. “Finley”—his gaze shifted nervously to hers—“I’m saying that your father may have been involved with—”
“No way.” She shook her head. “No way in this world was my dad involved with Louise Cagle. He would never do that. Never.”
Houser rubbed a hand across his jaw. “Not with Louise,” he said quietly, too damned quietly. “With Lucy.”
6
O’Sullivan Residence
Jackson Boulevard, Belle Meade, 2:30 p.m.
Willie, the house manager, had said Mr.Bart would be home by two.
But he wasn’t. The lady kept apologizing to Finley as if it were her fault Barton O’Sullivan hadn’t arrived at the time he had stated when he left the house. Finley told the exasperated woman it wasn’t a problem. No, she didn’t want Willie to call him. Finley wanted to surprise her father with an impromptu visit. No, she didn’t want coffee or tea or a soft drink.
She just needed to talk to him ... to clear up this misunderstanding.
Eventually Willie had gone on about her business. The woman had worked for Finley’s parents for as long as she could remember. She had done the grocery shopping before home delivery became a thing. She saw that housekeeping stayed on their toes, and she handled the laundry and the dropping off and picking up of the dry cleaning. Basically, shemanagedthe household. She was even more of a perfectionist than the Judge. She’d given Finley a dressing down more than once about leaving her stuff lying around all over the house.
This is why you have your own room, young lady. Not everyone is so fortunate.
As for housekeeping, it sounded like a whole department, but it was really only a trio of ladies who came in once a week to do the cleaning of this massive place. They also showed up to prepare for special occasions. The Judge certainly wasn’t home long enough to do the cleaning or the shopping. But she did cook. Well, mostly her husband did. Finley’s dad was a hell of a cook.
From her seat on the third step of the front staircase, she surveyed the grand entry hall. It was almost as big as her whole house. Her mother wouldn’t be able to clean this place alone if she worked on it all week.
Who needed a house this large?
Finley dismissed the thought. She had decided to stop disparaging her mother for needing to keep up with the Joneses. Her massive home in such a prestigious neighborhood was part of who she was. Call it privilege, call it whatever. She had inherited well and could spend her own money in whatever manner she chose. It wasn’t like she stole it from someone else or allowed others to provide for her.
Finley’s father couldn’t care less about the big house and the grand address. He was a good and kind man who went out of his way to help others. Case in point, the lifetime of service to the community.
Houser had to be wrong. Her father would never, ever do such a thing.
As if her renewed worry had summoned him, the front door opened, and her father walked in. Carrying a slim briefcase tucked under his arm, he spotted Finley as he closed the door.
“Finley.” A smile slid across his face. “What a nice surprise.” But then he considered that his one and only daughter didn’t just show up unannounced unless there was a problem, and his smile shifted into a frown. “What’re you doing here in the middle of the afternoon? Is everything all right?”
She pushed to her feet and crossed the shiny marble floor to hug him. Worry flooded her as he hugged her back. She felt sick at even the notion Houser had put in her head. The thought of asking this question ... of opening that can of worms was nearly more than she could bear. She loved her father. They had a close and wonderful relationship. She did not wantthisto change the way they were. If Houser was wrong—and he had to be—the idea that she would even ask this question would alter things somehow for her father, damage the strong bond of trust between them.
Did she really have to do this? If she didn’t, Houser would, and he might drag her father in to his office. Yes, she had to do this.
“Hey.” He drew back. “What’s going on? You okay?”
She nodded. “It’s this case I’m working on.”
He frowned, then grinned. “I tell you what, let’s do like we did when you were fifteen. Have chocolate milkshakes and talk about it. Ice cream fixes everything.”
She forced a smile, no matter that inside she was aching. “Sounds good.”
Finley followed him to his office, where he left his briefcase, then they strolled to the kitchen. She told him about finding her neighbor facedown in her backyard and about her surgery—which Finley should be hearing news of soon.
