Imerson had been a good detective and transitioned into the role of private investigator with ease, building a successful company. Everyone thought he was a fun-loving family man, and those who’d been interviewed after the accident had never seen him take a drink. But their statements hadn’t been enough for the police to investigate further.
Jules glanced around, deciding she liked this house. It was spacious and sat on what had to be at least five acres of land. The furnishings were nice, and the artwork was a mixture of contemporary and abstract. For someone who was supposed to have been facing financial ruin, which was purported to be the cause of Imerson’s drinking problems, it seemed that Leigh Imerson had done pretty well for herself after her husband’s death. Manning was spending the day investigating just how deeply in debt Imerson had been, or whether that rumor had been anything more than a smokescreen.
“I baked some chocolate chip cookies this morning and thought you might like a few to go along with your tea,” Leigh said, entering the room carrying a tray with cookies and glasses of tea.
Jules stood to help her. “Why, thank you, Mrs. Imerson. Cookies and tea sound nice.”
“You’re welcome and please, call me Leigh.”
“And you can call me Jules,” Jules said as she selected several cookies off the tray.
Deciding she needed to broach the reason for her visit, Jules said, “I read the police report on Marshall’s auto accident, Leigh. It claims he had been drinking the night he died. The report indicated that a liquor bottle was on the seat beside him, and that he’d smelled of liquor.”
The smile faded from Leigh’s face. “I know what that police report says, but it’s not true. Marshall did not drink.”
“But how do you explain the liquor bottle in the car and him smelling of liquor?”
Leigh shook her head with a look of confusion clouding her eyes. “I can’t explain it. All I can say is that someone deliberately tried to ruin Marshall’s reputation, and I don’t know why.”
Jules took another sip of her tea before asking, “Did you tell anyone what you thought? That you didn’t believe the police report?”
“Yes, but the chief of police at the time claimed he had proof.”
“What about a BAC test? Why didn’t you request one to verify Marshall’s alcohol concentration level?”
“I did and was assured one would be done. However, after I had Marshall cremated, I found out someone had dropped the ball and the test hadn’t been done.”
Jules wondered if someone had dropped the ball or had deliberately made certain that the test was never done. Was that the reason the police report had been sealed? Because of a monumental screwup? “At the time of his death, Marshall was working on an investigation for Richard Granger. Did you know that the report went missing after your husband’s death?” she asked.
Leigh shook her head. “No. Like I told you earlier, Marshall never discussed work with me, and he never brought any work home as far as I know. So I have no idea where that report is or what happened to it. I even told that same thing to the man who came asking about it a few months after Marshall’s death.”
Jules’s brow bunched. “Do you remember the name of the man?”
Leigh nodded. “Yes. His name is Ivan Greene, and he’s currently running for mayor of Charlottesville.”
Jules tried to keep surprise out of her face as she bit into her cookie.
Twenty-Six
Sitting at his dining room table, Dalton listened as Marcel interviewed Percy. Hearing the man’s account a second time, as well as focusing in on the questions Marcel was asking, made Dalton realize just how serious the situation was and just how fortunate they were that Percy had been so attentive to certain things. Things that might otherwise have gone unnoticed.