Ax to Grind (5 page)

Chapter Thirteen

When Connor and Meg rounded the corner to the back of the house, they saw Paige Wakefield running through the backyard.  Connor gave chase.  Meg decided on a different tact.  It was actually to her benefit that both Paige and Connor had their backs to her.  That gave Meg the chance to hang back, close her eyes, and cast a tripping spell.

A moment later, with the spell accomplished, Paige tripped over her own feet and fell to the ground.  With Paige face planting, both Connor and Meg were able to catch up with her. 

Paige looked completely embarrassed like she had no idea how she could have tripped.  Connor and Meg had plenty of questions of their own.  Paige was Ethan’s third wife.  She was a bookish, petite woman in her late forties with shoulder-length curly hair and an angular face.

Connor fired the first question at her.  “What are you doing here?  This is a crime scene.”

“It’s also my house,” Paige replied. 

“That’s true, but my men ordered you to stay away while this investigation is taking place.” 

“I know.  I just wanted to come here and grab my phone.”

That didn’t add up in Meg’s mind.  “If that’s true, then why were you sneaking out the back?”

Paige stumbled over her answer.  “Well, because, like you said, I knew I wasn’t supposed to come back here.  At the same time, you know how attached to our phones we all are these days.  I can’t imagine being without my smartphone for days, especially after losing my dear husband.”

Paige’s attitude completely turned on a dime.  Suddenly, she went from panicked to trying to drum up sympathy.  She wouldn’t get any from Meg and Connor, considering how eager she was to flee from the scene.  

Meg went right after her story.  “You said you came back here to grab your phone, but what if you really came back here for something else? For example, to remove incriminating evidence.”

Paige’s fake puppy dog eyes filled with rage in a hurry.  She became defiant.  “How dare you--”

Meg cut her off.  “Do you recognize this?” 

Meg held up the earring she’d found in the grass.

Paige surprised Meg and Connor both by giving them a blank look. 

“No,” Paige replied. 

Meg didn’t believe her.  She went after her again.  “So, this isn’t your earring?”

Paige scoffed.  “No.  I’d never wear an earring that ugly.”

This, from a woman wearing head to toe yellow.  Paige looked like a life-sized banana. Still, everyone had a different idea of what good taste was, and apparently she drew the line at ruby earrings.  Or, so she said.  

Connor wasn’t convinced of her answer either.  “You know I can get a search warrant issued to see if the matching earring is inside your house.”

“That would be a waste of your time.  I’ve never seen that ugly earring before in my life,” Paige declared. 

This line of questioning wasn’t getting them anywhere.

Meg decided to take a different approach.  “If you really were here just to get your phone, why did you feel the need to flee from the scene?”

Paige tensed up.  “I thought it would look bad, me showing up at the house so soon after the murder.”

“You’re right.  It looks highly suspicious,” Connor replied.  “Is there anything else you’d like to tell us?” 

Paige took a step back.  She tried to look as sorrowful as possible.  “Just that I’d like to get out of here.  I’m trying to work through a lot of emotions here.  I’m a widow, after all.”

She was sure doing her best to pull their heartstrings, but Connor and Meg wouldn’t allow themselves to be thrown off the scent that quickly. 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave quite yet,” Connor said.  “I have a question for you, Mrs. Wakefield.  Your husband was murdered in front of the house.  Why did it take an anonymous call for us to discover the body?  Shouldn’t you have heard the crime taking place?”

Paige sighed, then answered in a low tone.  “I uh, wasn’t home at the time.”

“I didn’t specify a time.  How can we be sure you weren’t home?” Connor wondered. 

Paige tried to cover her tracks.  “What time did the, uh, murder take place?”

“Between eleven and midnight,” Connor replied.

“Yeah, I wasn’t home then,” Paige insisted.

“Where were you then?” Connor followed up.

Paige was short with the detective again.  “With a friend.” 

“That seems strange,” Meg said. 

Paige jumped on the defensive.  “What’s strange about hanging out with a friend?”

“Your husband had just bought the theater with the intention of putting on your play.  I figured you’d be celebrating with him,” Meg explained. 

“We celebrated earlier,” Paige said.

Meg didn’t believe that.  She seemed to be hiding something. It was important to keep pressing.  “Come on, Mrs. Wakefield.  The wrap party wasn’t until ten.  The murder occurred between eleven and midnight.  Do you really expect us to believe that you celebrated something as big as buying a theater with your husband in an hour, then went off to spend time with a friend?” 

Paige stared at the detective, then at Meg, before looking down.  She let out a groan before blurting out the truth.  “All right, so I didn’t celebrate with my husband, but I was with my friend between eleven and midnight.”

Connor knew there was plenty of time to talk about Paige’s friend later.  Right now, he was focused on another issue.  “But Mrs. Wakefield, why weren’t you celebrating with your husband?  It’s not every day your husband buys a theater.”

Meg jumped in before Paige had the chance to lie again.  “Did you two have a fight last night?”

Paige bit the corner of her lip.  “Of course not.”

Meg stared her down.  “Why are you lying to us?”

“This is none of your business,” Paige insisted.

Connor corrected her.  “Your husband was murdered last night, and we just caught you fleeing from the scene.  It’s very much our business.  Now, answer the question.”

Paige tried to change the subject once again.  “I know what you’re implying, but I didn’t kill my husband.”

“It’s strange that you’d jump there.  We hadn’t even brought that up.  Mrs. Wakefield, do you have a guilty conscience?” Meg asked.

Worry lines were all over Paige’s face.  “I’m under a lot of stress here.  So if there’s nothing else--”

Connor cut her off.  “Excuse me, but there is something else.”

“What else is there?” Paige huffed.

“Frankly, part of your story just doesn’t make sense.  Let’s say you were at your friend’s house.  When you returned home last night, you still should have been the first person to have found the body, yet it took an anonymous call to notify the authorities,” Meg reasoned. 

“There’s a very good explanation for that,” Paige said. 

She saw both Meg and Connor staring her down.

Paige continued.  “I actually didn’t come home last night.”

The plot thickened with each word out of Paige’s mouth. 

“Where did you spend the night then?” Connor asked. 

“I stayed over at my friend’s house.  We had a couple of drinks, and it was late, so I figured it was probably not the best idea to risk driving home and getting in an accident,” Paige explained. 

Meg wasn’t convinced.  “So, you’re saying you went all night without your phone, and you just realized it a couple of minutes ago?”

“Like I said, I had a little too much to drink.  I must have left the phone here before Ethan and I headed off to the theater last night.  Then, I just forgot about it,” Paige replied.

Meg shook her head.  “Do you really expect me to believe in the digital age we live in that you could be without your phone for an entire night and not notice?”

“If you’re interested in the truth, you’ll believe it,” Paige insisted.    

Connor switched gears.  “This friend of yours that you were supposedly with at the time of the murder.  Who is she and where can we find her?”

“Her name is Wendy Sharpe.  She lives at 212 High Street,” Paige said. 

Connor scribbled down the address on a pad of paper.  “And she’ll be able to verify your alibi?”

“It’s not an alibi; it’s the truth.”

“Uh huh.  We’ll see about that.”

Paige lashed out in the most unexpected of ways.  “Look, if you want to find the killer, you should be talking to Vanessa McMillan.”

That came completely out of left field.  It wasn’t uncommon for a suspect to point the finger of blame elsewhere, but usually, it was only after they’d be backed into a corner.  Paige was sure jittery for a woman that kept proclaiming her innocence.  

“And why should we be talking to her?” Connor wondered. 

“Isn’t it obvious?  She thought her dad was going to hand the theater down to her.  When he sold it to Ethan instead, she felt jilted.  But when she found out Ethan was canceling the show she wrote, that was the last straw,” Paige explained.

“It’s an interesting story.  But as a writer, you’re known for making up stories,” Connor said. 

“I’m telling you the truth,” Paige pleaded. 

“We’ll see about that,” Meg replied.

“If we need to speak with you again, where will we be able to find you?” Connor asked.

The house was an official crime scene.  Technically, Paige shouldn’t even have been there in the first place.  At that moment, the detective cared most about where Paige was going next.

“I’m going to be staying with my sister,” Paige said. 

“What’s her address?” Connor wondered. 

“One-thirty-two Maple street,” Paige revealed. 

Connor scribbled the address down on his pad of paper.  “All right.  We’re going to go check on this alibi of yours.  Don’t even think about leaving town.”

Chapter Fourteen

Once they left the scene of the crime, Meg and Connor went to check on Paige’s alibi.  On the drive over to Wendy Sharpe’s house, Meg took a picture of the ruby earring she’d found at the scene of the crime and texted it to Liz Donnelly.  Maybe she’d recognize it and be able to place whose it was.

When Meg was done texting the photo, she looked over at Connor and started discussing their interview with Paige. 

“I don’t know what you’re thinking, but that seemed to be a whole lot of lying for just one conversation,” Meg said. 

Connor nodded.  “It makes you wonder where the lies end the truth begins.”

“It’ll be interesting to find out.  The problem is that could be really hard to do,” Meg replied. 

“No one said the job of a detective was easy.”

“I meant because we’re likely to just get another set of lies from this friend of hers.  Paige no doubt called her friend after we left to go over her alibi.”

“Probably.  But if she’s lying, it’ll come out eventually.  The truth always has a way of coming to light.”

“Eventually.  There’s nothing wrong with giving it a little push in the right direction,” Meg suggested. 

“What are you talking about?”

“The way to find out the real truth is to tell some lies of our own.”

“Are you serious?” Connor asked.

“Let me take the lead on this next one.”

***

Meg and Connor arrived at Wendy Sharpe’s olive-colored Victorian house and knocked on the front door.  A few moments later, Wendy slowly opened the door.  She was a heavy-set middle-aged woman with a round face, jet black hair, and bangs.  She wore a sweater with a picture of a cat embroidered on it. 

“Wendy Sharpe?” Meg asked.

“Yes,” Wendy replied. 

“We have some questions for you,” Meg insisted. 

Connor held out his police badge. 

“I’m sorry.  What’s this about?” Wendy wondered. 

“The murder of Ethan Wakefield,” Connor replied. 

“I don’t know anything about that,” Wendy said. 

“We understand Paige Wakefield was here last night,” Meg replied. 

“Yes,” Wendy said. 

Wendy was giving them as little to work with as possible.  If her lips were any tighter, they would have been sewn shut.  There was no doubt now that Paige had given her the heads up that Meg and Connor were on their way.  The conversation was like pulling teeth. 

Luckily, Meg had anticipated this and had a plan.  “Wendy, you don’t have to be so guarded.  Paige already told us everything.”

Wendy was still weary.  “She did?”

“Oh yeah.  We’re just here to verify her story.”

Wendy looked relieved.  “Oh.”

“Now, Paige told us she arrived here just after midnight.”

Wendy immediately disputed that.  “After midnight?  Don’t you mean shortly after eleven?”

Meg pulled out a sheet of paper from her purse.  “No.  I wrote it down right here.  Paige told us she got here just after midnight.  Are you saying she lied to us?”

Meg could see the gears spinning in Wendy’s head. 

Wendy went into panic mode.  “No, no.”

“Well, you two seem to have your stories mixed up.  What’s the truth?” Meg asked. 

Wendy’s head was spinning with the loop Meg had thrown her. 

Wendy revised her story.  “No, you’re right.  It was just after midnight.”

“Are you sure about that?” Meg asked.

Wendy nodded, half-heartedly.  “Yeah.”

Meg tried not to smile.  She managed to catch Wendy and Paige in their lie.  The question was, what other lies had Paige told Meg and Connor? 

Meg kept pressing.  “Do you want to tell me about this fight Paige and Ethan had last night?”

Wendy averted her eyes and became tight-lipped again.  “I’d rather not.”

Aha.  Meg had stumbled on another lie.  There was a fight after all.  Things were getting more interesting by the minute. 

“Like I said, Paige already told us the truth.  We just want to hear it from you.”

“I just don’t see how this is relevant,” Wendy admitted. 

“Your friend is a murder suspect.  She could spend the rest of her life in jail.  It’s important we find out the truth.  You and Paige already mixed up your stories on the timing of her arrival.  I want to make sure it didn’t happen again.” 

Meg then got creative with the truth again.  “Now, she told us the fight was about her play.  Is that right?”

Wendy sighed.  “Yeah.  She couldn’t believe Ethan had gone back on his word and decided to stage Wyatt’s play instead of hers.  Ethan was always doing stuff like that, though.  He had a bigger soft spot for his loser kid than he ever had for Paige.”

Another scoop.  No wonder Paige had lied to Meg and Connor.  She was practically drenched in motive.  Paige had some serious explaining to do.  But first, Meg had to finish up with Wendy. 

“I can understand how maddening that would be.  Thank you for your help,” Meg said. 

While Meg was caught up in exposing Paige’s lies, Connor stepped in with a question of his own. 

“Just one more thing.  Did Ethan call Paige at all after she came over to your place?” Connor asked. 

Wendy wracked her brain.  “No, he didn’t.  As a matter of fact, I don’t remember Paige getting a call or text of any kind all night.”

So maybe there was some actual truth to Paige’s story.  Perhaps she really had forgotten her phone at home. Unfortunately, she’d thrown in plenty of lies into her story as well.