Ax to Grind (6 page)

Chapter Fifteen

After finding out Paige’s alibi was shakier than a tent in a hurricane, it was time to pay her another visit.  As Meg and Connor drove back to her house, they were buzzing, although for different reasons. 

Connor’s eyes were as wide as could be.  “That was some seriously impressive work.”

Meg was focused on the upcoming showdown with Paige.  “I have a feeling we’re going to have to find a few more rabbits to pull out of our hats.  Paige is such a big liar; I’m surprised her pants weren’t on fire.”

“That being said, I’m glad I let you take the lead.  I would have gone with a much different approach, and may not have gotten quite the same results.”

“Never underestimate how effective confusing a suspect can be.”

“Are you giving me tips on how to be a detective?”

“I know you like doing things by the book.  I’m giving you tips on how to write a different kind of book,” Meg said. 

“Clearly.  Remind me to never doubt your tactics again.”

Meg smiled.  “Trust me, I won’t.”

Connor chuckled.  “I’m sure you won’t.  I’m curious, though.  What made you go at it that way?”

“Sometimes you have to fight lies with craftier lies.”

Connor bit the corner of his lip.  “I guess the question is, who knew you were such a good liar?” 

She shook her head.  “The real question to me is, what was Paige really doing last night?”

***

It was safe to say Paige wasn’t happy to see Meg and Connor’s faces again, no less so soon after their last confrontation.  This time, Paige didn’t even pretend to be nice.  She skipped over small talk entirely and went right to open hostility. 

“Why are you here?  I already told you everything that happened,” Paige declared. 

Connor wasn’t about to let himself be sassed by a murder suspect.  “Unfortunately, a lot of what you told us wasn’t the truth.”

Meg jumped in.  “Why did you think you could get away with lying to us?”

Paige became defensive.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let me refresh your memory.  Your friend told us you didn’t get to her house until just after midnight.  That’s plenty of time to have committed the murder before heading over to see your friend,” Meg pointed out. 

“You say that, but this is my husband we’re talking about here. I had no reason to want him dead, no less to kill him,” Paige argued.   

Meg exposed that lie as well.  “Your friend also told us you got into a fight with Ethan last night after he went back on his word and decided to stage his son’s play instead of yours.”

Connor piggy-backed on that statement.  “If that’s not motive enough, with your husband out of the picture, you’d stand to inherit the theater, meaning you’d be free to stage your play instead of your stepson’s.”

Paige was defiant.  “I can’t believe you’re accusing me of murdering my own husband.”

“How is it so hard to believe?  You got into an argument with him the night he was murdered that was so severe; you spent the night at a friend’s house,” Connor said. 

Paige tried to deflect.  “Have you talked to Vanessa McMillan yet?  Because you really should--”

Meg stopped her cold. “Stop trying to push the blame off on someone else.”

“Tell us the truth.  The real truth,” Connor added. 

Paige saw her web of lies unraveling right before her eyes.  She tried a different approach.  “I have nothing else to say to you.”

Things didn’t look good for Paige, but they weren’t bad enough to put her behind bars either.  At least not yet. 

Meg knew she needed to pump her for more information.  “I don’t think it’s wise to go quiet now, considering you have no alibi.”

Paige groaned.  “Ok, fine.  Ethan and I fought about him taking Wyatt’s side instead of mine like he always does.  I went over to Wendy’s to cool off.  That’s not a crime.”

“It’s interesting that you brought up the fact that Ethan always took Wyatt’s side.  What was your relationship with your stepson?” Connor asked. 

Paige became defensive. “It’s no secret that stepparents don’t always get along with their step kids.”

“True, but it sounds like you resented the things Ethan did for his son,” Connor replied.

“Anyone would have.  He cared so much about that loser kid.  Wyatt never amounted to anything, and he never will.  It didn’t matter to Ethan.  To him, Wyatt could do no wrong.  What about me?  I was his wife,” Paige revealed.

Connor continued.  “And if we asked Wyatt about you, what would he say?”

For once, Paige was brutally honest.  “Wyatt hated me.  He poisoned the well at every opportunity.”

“It sounds like you had plenty of anger to spare,” Meg said. 

“For the last time, I didn’t do it,” Paige replied.

“The more you talk, the harder it is to believe that,” Connor said. 

“You wanted the truth.  I just told you,” Paige declared. 

“If this is the whole truth, then why did you tell us all those lies before?” Meg wondered.

“You said it yourself.  The truth makes me look bad,” Paige replied.

“Exactly,” Meg said. 

“Looks can be deceiving.  Now, if you’re not going to arrest me, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Paige replied.   

Meg could tell Connor wanted to arrest her, but without a confession or hard evidence, the best he could do was hold her for seventy-two hours. 

He exhaled, then answered firmly.  “Don’t even thinking about leaving town.”

Chapter Sixteen

After all the finger-pointing Paige had done, Connor and Meg paid Vanessa McMillan a visit next.  Vanessa was already on their radar, even before Paige threw her under the bus.  There was plenty to be suspicious about when it came to Vanessa.  When Ethan Wakefield canceled “Enchanted Nights,” he put her on the unemployment line.  In addition, by deciding to put on his wife’s play, Ethan’s actions were a betrayal of his promise to Vanessa’s father.  Familial ties were known to run deep, and in the case of the McMillan’s, their family had suffered two big blows in the same night.  

Much to their surprise, Meg and Connor were actually invited inside Vanessa’s house.  Most suspects made them do their questioning on the front doorstep and seemed eager to shut the door in their faces.  Not Vanessa.  She didn’t even look emotionally guarded. 

While it was a nice change of pace, it was also suspicious in its own right.  Why was Vanessa welcoming and friendly to two people that suspected her of murder?  The answer to that would soon be all-too apparent.  As Meg and Connor entered Vanessa’s living room, she immediately reached for a bottle of wine.  Not a glass, mind you, but a whole bottle.  That was quite a bold move for eleven-thirty in the morning. 

“Can I get you guys a drink?” Vanessa asked.

Her slightly-slurred speech spoke volumes.  She was two sheets to the wind already.  That third sheet was no doubt on its way.   

Connor squinted.  “It’s not even noon.”

That didn’t faze Vanessa.  “It’s never too early to have a good time.”

Connor turned her down.  “We’re working.”

Vanessa shrugged her shoulders, then took a drink from the bottle.  “Your loss.”

Connor got right down to business.  “Ms. McMillan, where were you between eleven and midnight last evening?”

“Right here on my couch with my best friend,” Vanessa replied, holding up the bottle of wine.  She then looked over at an empty bottle on the coffee table.  “With his buddy, I mean.”

Meg rolled her eyes.  This wasn’t a joke.  It was a murder investigation. 

Connor continued.  “Were you alone?”

Vanessa shook her head and raised the bottle again.  “No, I told you.  I was with my buddy.”

Meg was getting fed up with the drunken theatrics.  She sighed.  “Are there any human beings that can verify your alibi or just inanimate objects?”

Vanessa became exasperated.  “Look, I came home from the theater last night, drank myself silly, and then passed out on the couch.”

“At least that’s your story,” Connor replied. 

She rubbed the bottom of her neck.  “I have the kinks in my neck to prove it.  Let me tell you, there’s a world of difference between a sofa and a memory foam mattress.”

“Ms. McMillan, this is serious business.  You’re a suspect in a murder investigation with ample motive and no verifiable alibi,” Connor explained. 

Vanessa’s eyes opened wide.  “Murder?  Who has been killed?”

“Are you saying you don’t know that Ethan Wakefield was killed last night?” Meg asked. 

Vanessa gasped.  “I had no idea.  Who would do such a thing?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out,” Connor said. 

“You’re in the wrong place.  I didn’t even know he was murdered.  It’s ridiculous to think I could have done it,” Vanessa snapped. 

“That’s what you keep saying.  Unfortunately, you have no one to verify your alibi,” Connor explained. 

Vanessa began losing her temper.  She raised her voice.  “This is ridiculous.  I didn’t even have a reason to want him dead.”

“That’s hard to believe, considering the amount of alcohol you said you’ve consumed in the last twenty-four hours,” Meg replied. 

“I’m a writer.  I do my best work under the influence of red wine.  It’s a time-honored tradition amongst us creative types.  Look it up.  All the best have been fall-down drunks.  I’m just doing my part for literary history,” Vanessa spouted. 

“Let’s get to the facts.  Ethan Wakefield canceled the show that you wrote.  There’s a motive for murder right there.  If that wasn’t enough, he bought the theater from your father, promising to keep things exactly as they were, then immediately went back on his word.  Ethan screwed over two people in your family.  Is that motive enough for you?” Meg asked. 

“I told you, I was passed out drunk on my couch last night,” Vanessa insisted. 

This line of questioning was getting nowhere.  Meg had to shake things up.  She knew just the way. 

Meg reached into her purse and pulled out the ruby earring she found at the scene of the crime.  “Is this yours?”

Vanessa stared long and hard at the earring.  “Woo, shiny.  I wish it was mine.”

“Are you saying it isn’t then?” Meg asked. 

Vanessa nodded, and then pulled her hair behind her ears, revealing a matching pair of pearl earrings.  “Nope.  That isn’t mine.”

Connor stepped in.  “I can get a search warrant for this house if I want to.”

Vanessa stared him down.  “I’m telling you; they’re not mine.”

Meg grew frustrated, but still had one more lead to follow.  “If you’re innocent, then why did Paige Wakefield tell us if we wanted to find her husband’s killer, you’d be the person to talk to?”

Vanessa didn’t flinch or skip a beat.  Instead, she smirked and shook her head.  “That’s easy.  Paige is a witch with a capital w.  The woman has been jealous of my writing talent for years.  She knows she’ll never have a way with words like I do.”

Connor had a hard time buying that explanation.  “So, you’re saying she’s so jealous of your writing talent that she’s willing to accuse you of murder?”

“Never underestimate the pettiness of an insecure writer.”

“Does that include yourself?” Meg asked. 

Vanessa scoffed.  “Are you kidding?  My writing is awesome in every way.”

This conversation was suddenly getting away from Meg and Connor. 

Meg tried to steer it back in the right direction.  “You really think Paige pointed the finger of blame in your direction out of petty insecurity?”

Vanessa nodded.  “That, and because it throws the suspicion off herself.”

“Are you pointing the finger of blame at her?” Meg wondered.

Vanessa took another drink, then thought the situation over.  “No.  I’d say if you were looking for a killer, you should be talking to Daphne Scott.”

Great, more finger pointing.  Everyone seemed eager to pass off the blame.  Hearsay would get Meg and Connor nowhere.  They needed something more concrete. 

Connor indulged her for a moment.  “What makes you say that?”

“There’s nothing like a bitter ex, and Ethan gave her all-new reason to be honking mad,” Vanessa explained. 

Meg couldn’t disagree with that statement, but she also saw through what Vanessa was trying to do. 

Meg laughed.  “It’s funny.  You were quick to point out how Paige wanted to throw suspicion off herself, yet here you are doing the same thing.”

Paige became defensive.  “I already told you what I was doing last night.”

“Yeah, but you make up stories for a living,” Meg pointed out. 

“I’m telling you the truth,” Vanessa insisted. 

“Why should we believe you?” Connor asked.

“Fine.  Don’t believe me.  I have nothing else to say to you.  Please leave,” Vanessa huffed. 

Connor was taken by surprise.  “That was pretty abrupt.”

“That’s what happens when you abuse my hospitality.  Now, see yourselves out,” Vanessa insisted. 

The interview with Vanessa may have started on a much more pleasant note, but it ended just as contentious as ever.  Although Vanessa looked mighty suspicious, without hard evidence, there wasn’t much Meg and Connor could do but move on to the next suspect.