Page 105 of The Nature of Secrets

Finley pressed the doorbell and waited.

Wesley Lauder was an investment banker. His roots were deep in Music City soil. His father was an investment banker, as his grandfather had been. His mother was an entertainment attorney to the biggestcountry music veterans in the industry. Wesley, being the only child of such successful parents, was no doubt expected to accomplish great things.

Finley doubted having a felon or possibly a murderer for a wife was on that list of accomplishments.

The door opened, and the handsome forty-year-old stood in the doorway studying Finley. “Are you the one who called my office?”

“Finley O’Sullivan.” She offered her hand.

He gave it a shake. His grasp a bit on the limp side.

The man appeared to have one hell of a hangover, or maybe he’d worked all night. Either way, his eyes were bloodshot, his hair was tousled, and his clothes looked as if he’d at least tried to sleep in them.

“What can I do for you, Ms.O’Sullivan?” The pain on his face when he spoke shouted headache.

Hangover for sure. Finley knew that place intimately.

“I would prefer to have this conversation in a more private setting,” Finley said.

He opened the door wider and allowed her inside.

The place was every bit as stunning as Finley had expected. Wood floors, towering ceiling. Lots of large windows and expensive furnishings. All the trappings expected in a seven-figure-income home.

Lauder didn’t offer any refreshments. He just crossed to the sofa and plunked down unceremoniously onto it.

Finley took a chair across the coffee table from him. “How long have you and Jessica been married?”

“Two years.” He grabbed a bottle of water and took a swallow. He frowned and gestured to Finley. “You want something to drink?”

“No thank you. Just a few minutes of your time.”

He shrugged. Drank more water.

“Are you aware of the murder investigation involving your wife’s employer?”

Of course he was. Finley wanted his reaction to the question.

He cleared his throat. Set his water bottle aside. “Isn’t everyone?”

No eye contact. Shifting of his body as if he was no longer comfortable. Interesting. “Did you have the opportunity to meet the victim?”

“Several times.” He dragged his gaze from the floor and met Finley’s. “I didn’t like him. I thought he was an arrogant con man.”

Well said. “Did you share your feelings with your wife?”

He laughed. “I actually don’t get to share much with my wife.” He shook his head, stared at the ceiling for a moment. “You see, she spends all her time at work. When she married me, she failed to mention that she was already fully committed to someone else—Ellen Winthrop.”

Ouch. “I take it the two of you are not in a good place right now.”

He drew in a big breath, let it go. “Well, Ms.O’Sullivan, my wife is never home. She barely has time to speak to me when she is. Last night, when she finally managed to get home at midnight, she said she wanted a divorce. Does that answer your question?”

It surely did. “Do your marital problems have anything to do with the murder investigation?”

He shrugged. “I doubt it. Things weren’t that good before. In fact, I can pinpoint fairly accurately when they started to go downhill.” He looked directly at Finley then. “When this con man came into the picture.”

“Do you believe he and Jessica were involved somehow?”

Another shrug, accompanied by an “I have no clue” face. “I honestly don’t know. If she did, it was only because that was what Ellen wanted her to do.” His face pinched in something like concentration. “You have to understand my wife. She has been shielded from everything her entire life. First by her vastly overprotective parents and then by Ellen. She adores Ellen. She would do anything for her. Anything,” he repeated.

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