Save Her Soul (Detective Josie Quinn #9)(61)

“Put her in the conference room down here, would you? I’ve got to run upstairs and let Gretchen know where I am, and I’ll be back to talk to her.”

A few minutes later, Josie took her half-finished mug of coffee to the conference room where Mayor Tara Charleston waited. She paced along one side of the large table, a cell phone pressed to her ear. Her skirt suit was a muted teal, and her long legs were accentuated by a pair of six-inch heels. Her hair was chin-length and smartly styled, her face perfectly made-up, covering almost all of her wrinkles. As she barked instructions to someone on the phone about an upcoming city council meeting, Josie stood on the other side of the table, sipping her coffee.

Tara hung up and tossed her phone onto the table with a clatter. She blew out a long sigh and put her hands on the back of the nearest chair. “Detective Quinn,” she said.

Josie said nothing.

Tara strode across the room and closed the door. Josie’s heart raced a little. The last time she had been truly alone with Tara Charleston, the Mayor had asked her to do something illegal and when Josie refused, she had threatened Josie’s job.

Tara returned to her position across the table from Josie and narrowed her brown eyes, her gaze bearing down on Josie. “I need to get ahead of something here.”

Josie held up a hand and said, “If this is about Quail Hollow, you have to talk to the Chief. It’s not my place to—”

“Stop,” Tara commanded. “It’s not about Quail Hollow. It’s about Vera Urban.”

“Vera Urban?” Vera’s identity hadn’t yet been released to the press. The only people who knew that she had been murdered the day before were the police.

Tara put a hand on her hip. “I’ve asked Amber to keep me apprised of what’s going on over here.”

But Amber wasn’t the Mayor’s plant, Josie thought ruefully.

Tara kept talking. “I know Vera Urban was killed yesterday in some very unusual circumstances.”

“She was shot,” Josie said pointedly.

“Yes, and before that she was evidently missing for sixteen years, isn’t that right?”

Josie didn’t answer.

“Detective Quinn, I know you. I know how deep you’ll dig on this case, so I am heading you off at the pass. I knew Vera.”

Josie felt a tickle of discomfort. The Mayor had a reputation for aggressively protecting her own interests, often crossing lines to do so. “What are you saying?” Josie asked. “That in the course of my investigation, you think we would need to talk?”

Tara gave an exasperated sigh. “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Here I am, telling you I knew Vera, but it was a very, very long time ago. She was my stylist at a salon called Bliss. I’m talking twenty years ago, at least. When her daughter was small, even before that. That’s why I wanted to talk to you before you come at me with everything you’ve got. You’ll find out I knew her and think I’m hiding something.”

“Are you hiding something?” Josie asked.

Tara smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course not.”

“But now you’re going to ask me to keep it quiet that you knew the murdered mother of a murdered teenage girl.”

Tara rolled her eyes. “I’m not asking you to keep it quiet, I’m asking you not to broadcast it. It’s irrelevant. Vera was my hairstylist, for Pete’s sake.”

Josie narrowed her eyes. “Sara Venuto told me that many of Vera’s clients were friends with her outside of the salon. Would you count yourself among that group?”

“You’ve already been to the salon?”

Josie smiled. “Not my first time solving a murder case. Yes, I’ve been to the salon.”

Tara waved a hand in the air. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I was friendly with her outside of the salon on occasion. I wouldn’t call us friends but back then, I was the young wife of a surgeon with no ambition of my own, no job, and nothing to do all day. I was bored. I had money. My parents left me a trust fund. I was the one who put my husband through medical school but with him on a surgical residency, I was alone ninety percent of the time. I had Vera over a couple of times for a glass of wine and a chat. That was all.”

“How about when Vera got pregnant? Do you remember that?”

“Very vaguely, yes.”

“Sara Venuto says several of Vera’s clients threw her a baby shower. Were you in that group?”

“No, I was not. Like I said, we were friendly, not friends.”

“What do you remember about Vera?” Josie asked.

Tara placed a manicured hand on the table and leaned forward. “Nothing except what I just told you. She was my stylist. We had a glass of wine once or twice. She had a daughter named Beverly. That’s all.”

“You had Vera over to your house when you had your glasses of wine?” Josie asked.

“Yes.”

“Had you ever been to her home, either before she moved into the house on Hempstead Road or after?”

“Of course not.”

“When is the last time you were in contact with Vera?”

“Detective Quinn, it was so long ago that I couldn’t even tell you. Decades.”

“Where were you yesterday morning at seven a.m.?”