First, it was the smell, the dead giveaway of the Chanel No.5, so classic, so expected. This is matched with the monochrome outfit adorning her well-maintained figure. Not a shred of personality in her outward appearance, which itself tells you everything you need to know about her. Her features are hard and are kept in place by routine visits to a plastic surgeon, but the kind who does a superb enough job that only a well-trained eye can even tell that the skin isn’t 100 percent natural. The entire entrance is punctuated by the final click of a black Manolo Blahnik heel (never Louboutin’s, “red is ostentatious”), announcing that she is here and ready for her proper allotment of attention, which by normal tally is all of it.

“Hello, Sarah,” Eleanor greets me, and without an invite, she’s already closing the distance between us. “It’s lovely to see you.” She opens her arms for a hug when she reaches me and although we do embrace one another, we barely touch.

“You got in quick, Eleanor,” I say. A little too quick. I was hoping it would be another day or two before she graced me with her presence.

“Of course. This is my son we’re talking about, after all.” She holds her head high and carries her classic black Chanel purse close to her as she takes a seat in front of my desk. Glancing around, she says, “Your office is cute.” The remark is condescending at best. I sit down in my desk chair.

From the doorway Anne raises her eyebrows at me and backs out of the office. Eleanor clearly had no intention of acknowledging her presence.

“Now, tell me what’s going on with Adam.” She crosses one leg over the other and places the palms of her hands on her knee.

Eleanor is not going to like hearing this. To her, Adam is a perfect specimen. He’s all she has left of her deceased husband. Adam’s father was a hedge fund manager, and five years ago he passed away unexpectedly from a heart attack. They say it was due to bad eating habits and the stress of the job, but I like to think Eleanor played a role. She is truly a demanding woman. However, for the sake of this case, I’ll put our differences aside and continue to swallow each jab, insult, and condescending remark.

“Adam is a suspect in a murder case—”

“Impossible,” Eleanor interjects. “My boy would never!”

There’s no point in arguing with her. Parents are typically delusional when it comes to their children. Even Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer had loving parents who were unaware of the evil that dwelled within their offspring.