The Last Lie Told (Finley O’Sullivan, #1)(57)

She stared at the lawn. The place where the dog was buried. She studied the contour of the grass. She closed her eyes and cursed herself for going down that path again. Who knew if Helen had seen what she thought she had? She was old and wore glasses with very thick lenses.

Finley shook her head. She recognized the strategy. Denial. Find a reason it couldn’t be possible. Made ignoring the possibilities far easier.

She should get dressed and get moving so the Judge could pretend all was right in her world.





21


2:00 p.m.


O’Sullivan Residence

Jackson Boulevard

Belle Meade

Finley opted to park on the street outside her parents’ compound. The gate was open with only a guard waving guests through without asking questions. He smiled at Finley and gave her a nod.

She rarely wore heels anymore, so the trek over the cobblestones was hazardous at best. Finley recognized most of the faces she saw. The hierarchy of the community. The city’s elite. Exactly what she’d expected.

Entering the massive foyer with its sweeping staircase always impressed guests no matter how many times they had been to the house before. Belle Meade was that kind of community, and the Judge’s home was a real estate star. Ruth bought the place two weeks before she and Finley’s dad had married. Her parents had lived a couple of streets over. Their house hadn’t been large enough to suit the future judge. After they passed, she’d sold the homeplace and paid off the mortgage on this one. She always said they would have approved. They were gone before Finley was born, so she had no idea.

The flowers and decorations were impeccable. Lots of whites and blushes and soft greens. Several beverage bars were set up throughout the downstairs area and outside. Waiters with freshly loaded food trays roamed the crowd offering all manner of tasty delights. There were champagne fountains, chocolate fountains, and a veritable array of who’s who strolling the red carpet that made a path through the center of the house to the rear gardens.

Finley snagged a flute of champagne from a passing tray. She didn’t really like champagne, but her mother always bought the best. Might as well enjoy some aspect of the next half hour or so.

Matt appeared at her side. “My, my, Ms. O’Sullivan, you certainly clean up well.”

“It’s the only dress I had that wasn’t wrinkled.” She’d once owned a steamer, but she had no clue where it was now.

“You look great.”

She laughed softly. “This shade of green reminds me of a car you owned in college.”

He laughed then. “That must be why I like it so much.”

She turned to him, looked him up and down. Matt was the only person she knew who could pull off a white linen suit. He had that perpetual tan and just the right color hair and eyes to make it work.

“Maybe you didn’t notice . . .” She leaned closer to him. “But every female—and some males—in the room are openly eying you.”

“Actually, I think they’re eying you.”

She muffled a laugh to prevent the champagne she’d just chugged from spewing forth.

“Fair warning,” he said. “The trinity is gathered out by the gazebo. They’re talking business. You might want to avoid the area.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” She would steer clear for sure.

“Did you by chance have an unauthorized chat with DA Briggs’s daughter?”

Finley sipped her champagne this time. “I did. She was full of information.” She grinned up at Matt. “Did you know she and Cecelia were quite notorious in high school?”

“I can only imagine.” Matt leaned closer. “So you know, Briggs is not happy. I’m supposed to mention that you’d better not approach her again without her attorney present.”

“He didn’t have the balls to tell me this himself?”

“Apparently not.”

Matt put his arm around her shoulders. “Come on. Let’s go find the lady of honor and wish her a happy birthday.”

“Whatever.” Finley downed the last of the champagne, left the glass on a tray table, and grabbed another from a passing waiter. This one went down the hatch too.

“Easy, tiger,” her friend whispered close to her ear.

“All better now.”

The Judge was in the great room. Dressed in a well-fitted rose-colored sheath, she stood with her back to the fireplace since a massive painting of her in her robes hung above it. Finley’s father, sporting a taupe suit and a tie that perfectly matched the Judge’s dress, stood at her side, smiling like always.

The receiving line was endless.

“I’ll just wave from here,” Finley suggested.

“Of course you won’t.” Matt ushered her around the crowd and right up to the Judge. “Happy birthday, Judge,” he said with a broad smile.

Ruth O’Sullivan looked from Matt to Finley, only the slightest glimmer of surprise flashing in her eyes. “Thank you for coming.”

Matt leaned in and kissed her on the cheek. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Matt was too nice.

Ruth turned to her. “Finley.” She looked her up and down as she reached for her shoulders. “So marvelous to see you, sweetheart.” She leaned in and left a kiss on Finley’s cheek.