secretary summoned Francis Morton, the McAllister & Finch office manager, who would escort Brantley and Dodson to Jessica’s secretary. Before they left his office, Reese asked if the investigation could be kept as quiet as possible so as not to disrupt the operation of the law office.
“We’ll do our best,” Dodson replied, but he knew that was unlikely. A reporter for the local newspaper had been at the crime scene almost as soon as he arrived.
The trio of Brantley, Dodson, and Francis took the elevator to the fifth floor and arrived at the cubicle of Marion Barker just as she was returning from her lunch break. Francis introduced the two detectives to the startled midtwenties secretary, and Dodson began the interrogation. They stood outside her gray cubicle.
“Ms. Barker, do you know of any clients who might want to harm Ms. Caldwell or were angry with her?”
Marion Barker was modestly dressed and average in appearance—a stark contrast to the beauty and affluence of Jessica Caldwell. Marion appeared shaken by the news of Jessica’s death. When she could finally respond to Dodson’s questions, her voice trembled.
“I’ve been working for her only a month,” she began. “I was in the office secretarial pool before then. I was just beginning to recognize the names of her clients, but I don’t know of anyone who threatened her, if that is what you mean.”
“Was she working on any cases where someone might have gotten upset with her?” Dodson continued, pen and notepad in hand.
Marion rubbed her hands together and nervously rocked back and forth. “Nothing really stands out in my mind. If there was, she never mentioned it to me.”
“Did you notice anything about her demeanor when she returned from Washington?” Brantley asked.
“Now that you mention it, she did seem a little preoccupied with something when she returned, but she never told me about it.” Marion looked around, as if she were checking to see if anyone else could hear the conversation. “The staff and the lawyers don’t socialize very much around here, if you know what I mean,” she whispered.
“I guessed as much,” Dodson quipped.
“What about her social life?” Brantley asked. “Did she have a boyfriend? Was she seeing anyone?”
“She didn’t have a steady boyfriend. Not that I knew about, anyway. Some guy called her a couple of times. I may have his name somewhere on a phone message.”
Marion entered her cubicle. The two detectives followed. Shuffling through a couple of stacks of documents on her desk, she retrieved a slip of paper containing a name and telephone number.
“Yeah, this is the guy,” she said as she read from the message sheet. “Tag Grissom. He’s a doctor—or something like that. I’ve got his phone number here if you want.” She handed Brantley the phone message.
Brantley jotted the telephone number down on his notepad and returned the slip of paper to Marion. Both he and Dodson thanked Marion for her time and cooperation before leaving. They told her they’d call her if they had any other questions.
Brentwood, Tennessee
Todd Allen Grissom, M.D., was finishing with his tenth patient of the day at his Brentwood cardiology office when Lieutenant Brantley and Sergeant Dodson arrived and demanded to see him. Dr. Grissom had two partners, and their clinic occupied the entire third floor of a four-story medical complex next door to St. Francis Hospital. After making Brantley and Dodson wait five minutes, Dr. Grissom at last had his nurse escort them into his office.
“What’s this about?” Dr. Grissom inquired arrogantly, then sat down nonchalantly in a chair behind his mahogany desk.
Dodson didn’t like the doctor’s condescending tone, and his cavalier attitude was infuriating.
Dr. Grissom propped his elbows on his desktop and looked down at Brantley and Dodson. “If it’s about those overdue parking tickets, I’ll get them paid before the end of the week.”
As the officers
“We’ll do our best,” Dodson replied, but he knew that was unlikely. A reporter for the local newspaper had been at the crime scene almost as soon as he arrived.
The trio of Brantley, Dodson, and Francis took the elevator to the fifth floor and arrived at the cubicle of Marion Barker just as she was returning from her lunch break. Francis introduced the two detectives to the startled midtwenties secretary, and Dodson began the interrogation. They stood outside her gray cubicle.
“Ms. Barker, do you know of any clients who might want to harm Ms. Caldwell or were angry with her?”
Marion Barker was modestly dressed and average in appearance—a stark contrast to the beauty and affluence of Jessica Caldwell. Marion appeared shaken by the news of Jessica’s death. When she could finally respond to Dodson’s questions, her voice trembled.
“I’ve been working for her only a month,” she began. “I was in the office secretarial pool before then. I was just beginning to recognize the names of her clients, but I don’t know of anyone who threatened her, if that is what you mean.”
“Was she working on any cases where someone might have gotten upset with her?” Dodson continued, pen and notepad in hand.
Marion rubbed her hands together and nervously rocked back and forth. “Nothing really stands out in my mind. If there was, she never mentioned it to me.”
“Did you notice anything about her demeanor when she returned from Washington?” Brantley asked.
“Now that you mention it, she did seem a little preoccupied with something when she returned, but she never told me about it.” Marion looked around, as if she were checking to see if anyone else could hear the conversation. “The staff and the lawyers don’t socialize very much around here, if you know what I mean,” she whispered.
“I guessed as much,” Dodson quipped.
“What about her social life?” Brantley asked. “Did she have a boyfriend? Was she seeing anyone?”
“She didn’t have a steady boyfriend. Not that I knew about, anyway. Some guy called her a couple of times. I may have his name somewhere on a phone message.”
Marion entered her cubicle. The two detectives followed. Shuffling through a couple of stacks of documents on her desk, she retrieved a slip of paper containing a name and telephone number.
“Yeah, this is the guy,” she said as she read from the message sheet. “Tag Grissom. He’s a doctor—or something like that. I’ve got his phone number here if you want.” She handed Brantley the phone message.
Brantley jotted the telephone number down on his notepad and returned the slip of paper to Marion. Both he and Dodson thanked Marion for her time and cooperation before leaving. They told her they’d call her if they had any other questions.
Brentwood, Tennessee
Todd Allen Grissom, M.D., was finishing with his tenth patient of the day at his Brentwood cardiology office when Lieutenant Brantley and Sergeant Dodson arrived and demanded to see him. Dr. Grissom had two partners, and their clinic occupied the entire third floor of a four-story medical complex next door to St. Francis Hospital. After making Brantley and Dodson wait five minutes, Dr. Grissom at last had his nurse escort them into his office.
“What’s this about?” Dr. Grissom inquired arrogantly, then sat down nonchalantly in a chair behind his mahogany desk.
Dodson didn’t like the doctor’s condescending tone, and his cavalier attitude was infuriating.
Dr. Grissom propped his elbows on his desktop and looked down at Brantley and Dodson. “If it’s about those overdue parking tickets, I’ll get them paid before the end of the week.”
As the officers
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