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“She was absolutely holding a grudge,” Hanson said, tone somber. “As far as she was concerned, Sandra hated her and had gone out of her way to kill her career. And somehow, I don’t think struggling to practice family law now in some Springfield fleabag to pay the bills would soften her resentment.”
That triggered another question Jo wanted to ask. “What were the nasty things Flynn said to Sandra?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was frustrated. “She wouldn’t tell me, but they must have been beyond the pale. Sandra had a thick skin.”
“One last thing,” Jo asked. “Do you know who Sandra was dating?”
“Dating?” he asked, confused.
“Bruce said she told him she was seeing someone, but he didn’t know who.”
“Really. First I’ve heard of it. I’ll ask around.”
Arnett thanked him and ended the call. “Sounds like we need to have a chat with Patricia Flynn.”
Jo nodded grimly. “Three suspects and a mysterious boyfriend already, and we haven’t even touched her case files yet.”
CHAPTEREIGHT
Patricia Flynn’s office was set in the sort of strip mall that proliferated in the late 90s, had taken a huge hit during The Great Recession, and had been all but abandoned during the pandemic. Anchored on one end by a Dollar Tree, a take-out Chinese restaurant on the other, and spotted with empty retail spaces in between, her office sat at the bottom of a small three-story building that seemed to include living areas above.
“You think she lives up there?” Arnett asked as they stepped out of the car. “That downgrade is motive enough to kill someone.”
Jo laughed as the scent of beef-and-broccoli wafted past on the wind. “Don’t knock it, it might be cozy. There was a little bakery we went to in New Orleans when I was a kid. Run by a husband-and-wife team who lived over the top of it, and I remember thinking how fun it would be to just roll out of bed right into work.”
“Until the day it closed down because of the murder-suicide?” Arnett quipped.
“You’re grim today. Not that I don’t understand why.” Jo’s mind flew back to Matt, at that very moment moving things into her house. “And I admit, there is something to be said for personal space.”
He picked up on the shift in her tone. “Moving day not going well?”
“No, it’s fine.” She waved him off. “Mostly. You know it takes me time to adjust to change.”
“Right there with you.” He pulled open the door and gestured her through.
Jo stepped into the surprisingly bright vestibule decorated with soft yellow walls and rust-colored trim. A twenty-something Latina woman with curly brown hair and kind eyes sat at a sleek mahogany desk on the left side of the back wall, bookended between two large potted bamboo palms; a large wooden door dominated the right half of the wall.
Once they identified themselves, she picked up the phone on her desk. “I’ll let Patricia know you’re here.” She gestured vaguely to the rust-colored armchairs perched along the side walls, accompanied by several smaller wooden chairs meant for children.
Before they could sit, the internal door opened. Patricia Flynn looked to be in her mid to late thirties, with strawberry-blonde hair pulled into a stylish chignon and a slash of mascara highlighting blue, guarded eyes. Her slate-blue suit was polyester, and her black pumps were sensible.
She extended her arm ambiguously, looking from one to the other of them. “Detectives Fournier and Arnett. How can I help you?”
“Thanks for making time to meet with us.” Jo pointed to the office behind her. “Can we talk inside?”
“Of course.” Flynn stepped back and gestured them in. “Please, have a seat.”
The internal office had the same soft-yellow walls and rust accents and the same mix of armchairs and children’s chairs, but was nearly covered wall-to-wall with mahogany bookshelves and filing cabinets. Books and Duplo blocks dotted the bottom shelves, and two framed pictures perched on the desk, one of two young girls, and one of Patricia and an Asian man smiling for the camera.
Flynn noticed the direction of her gaze. “Me and my husband on a trip to Nantucket.”
Jo nodded and sat, then explained why they were there.
She met Jo’s eyes. “I wish I could say I was surprised.”
Jo’s composure almost dropped. “That’s quite a statement.”
Flynn shrugged. “I told Sandra myself that the way she did things would eventually come back to bite her.”
