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  The brawnier of the two, Deputy Stanton, spoke up. “Ms. Cook. Interesting seeing you again.”

  “Interesting is not the word I’d go with.”

  “I suppose not. I assure you, this is not the Monday morning any of us had planned,” Deputy Stanton continued.

  It was an odd sight getting such a dry and understated response from a man that was big enough to wrestle a grizzly bear. The more amazing thing was that the deputy didn’t seem to be aware of this odd contrast.

  “They should outlaw Mondays. It’s the only day of the week where good things never happen,” Chloe said.

  “Speaking of, I’m afraid there’s been some trouble, and Detective Thicke would like to talk to you about it.”

  “About what exactly?”

  The deputy then said five words that gave Chloe chills.

  “The murder of Ryan Foster.”

  Chapter Nine

  The deputies brought Chloe to the scene of the crime, which happened to be Ryan Foster’s house. The place was crawling with cops. All the activity seemed to be focused on Ryan’s garage.

  Both Ryan’s garage door, as well as the side door leading into the garage, were open. A forensic specialist was dusting the knob of the side door for prints. Anyone that had met Ryan Foster knew he was different than the average guy on the street. It turned out his garage was just as unique as he was.

  Most people kept things like cars and power tools in their garage, maybe even the occasional rake or lawnmower. Not Ryan. He’d converted his garage into a man cave with a billiard table, couch, and big screen TV.

  Ryan’s body was hunched over on the couch. There was a big gash on the back of his head. With some simple deducing, Chloe came up with a theory as to how Ryan had been murdered. The killer came in through the most-likely unlocked side door of the garage, snuck up behind Ryan, and struck him once, or multiple times, on the back of the head while he was watching TV.

  Due to the placement of both the couch and the TV away from the side door, the killer probably came in undetected, due to the volume of the program on the television. If Ryan had seen the killer, his body wouldn’t be directly facing the TV.

  Even more troubling than the sight of the dead body was the item Chloe saw on the ground beside the couch. It was a golf club that had blood stained on the club face. That was an odd item to find in Ryan’s garage, considering there were no other golf clubs nor golf bag in sight. The real problem was the item was familiar to anyone that had seen or heard of the play Paige was starring in.

  The murder weapon in the play was a putter, one that looked just like the one that was next to Ryan Foster’s couch. In the show, Paige’s character had used the putter as a murder weapon for a very specific reason. Her character was a long-suffering wife whose husband had an affair with a professional female golfer. It seemed like poetic justice that Paige’s character would kill her philandering husband with a putter.

  Chloe liked when art imitated life only when it pertained to romantic comedies, not murder mysteries. Suddenly, things were not looking good for Paige O’Doul. That left an unsettling feeling in Chloe’s stomach. It was bad enough that someone had been murdered, but no doubt one of her oldest friends would now be considered a main suspect.

  Chloe was staring down two very unappealing possibilities. Either Paige had actually murdered Ryan Foster, or the real killer was going a long way to frame her for the crime. Chloe wished there was an ‘Option C’, but that just wasn’t the case.

  Paige certainly wasn’t helping her case any. She had been uncharacteristically secretive and tight-lipped with Chloe last night. Still, Chloe could hardly believe that someone as kind as her friend could be capable of this.

  Chloe spotted Paige in the driveway while Deputy Stanton approached Detective Todd Thicke in the garage. The minute Paige saw Chloe; she rushed over to her.

  “This is unbelievable,” Paige said.

  Chloe nodded. “It’s a nightmare, alright. I knew things were out of control last night, but this is ridiculous.”

  “I can’t believe the police brought you here. I’m so sorry that you got dragged into this.” Paige sighed.

  Chloe looked around and saw the rest of Paige’s old college acting troupe on the edge of the lawn.

  “By the looks of it, everyone that was at the party last night has been dragged into this,” Chloe replied.

  “I feel so awful. If I had known this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have invited you. We could have just met for pie or something.”

  “Paige, do you have any idea who might have done this?”

  Just then, Deputy Stanton returned from the garage. “The detective is ready for you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Chloe and Paige were put into a lineup with some all too familiar faces. There was Adam Foster, his wife Lily, Olivia Ellerby, Sasha Irwin, and the greasy-haired man who flung Ryan’s body into a car outside the party last night.

  Detective Thicke stood in front of the lineup with a notepad at the ready. Todd was a bulky, bespectacled man in his mid-fifties with a round face that matched his beer belly. The detective had the frame of someone that once had an athletic body, but who had spent too many days at his desk gobbling up donuts, and not enough days burning off those calories on the beat.

  His detective skills were no doubt a little rusty as well. Cape Cod was hardly known for murders. It didn’t help that Chloe had upstaged the detective by solving the last case. The detective had an unflinching look in his eyes like he was prepared to do anything to keep that from happening again.

  He addressed the lineup as a whole. “A murder has occurred. Ryan Foster was killed last night, and I think one of you was responsible for his death. I want to make one thing clear to all of you; I’m not going to stop until I find out who did this. Mark my words, justice will be served.”

  Detective Thicke then approached Ryan’s girlfriend, Olivia Ellerby, first.

  “Ms. Ellerby, where were you last night between ten and eleven o’clock?” Detective Thicke asked.

  “I was at my apartment,” she answered.

  The detective furrowed his brow. “At your apartment? Why weren’t you with him here? You two were seen leaving the party together.”

  “I had him drop me off on the way home,” Olivia explained.

  That answer only made the detective more curious. “Why would you do that instead of coming back here together?”

  “It was a rough night, alright?”

  “No, it’s not alright. It doesn’t make sense. You’d think a couple would want to comfort each other after the night you both had.”

  “Look, sometimes it’s best to have a little time alone,” Olivia said.

  “Speaking of being alone, was there anyone back at your apartment that can verify you were really there?” Detective Thicke asked.

  She shook her head. “I was by myself.”

  “What you’re saying is that you have no one to verify your alibi then, right?”

  Olivia began to lose her patience. “I already told you, I was at my apartment last night.”

  The detective stared her down. “At least that’s your story.”

  Detective Thicke scribbled a note on his pad, then moved to Ryan’s brother, Adam Foster.

  “How about you, Mr. Foster? Where were you between ten and eleven?” Detective Thicke asked.

  “I was at home,” he answered.

  The detective quickly turned to Adam’s wife, Lily.

  “Can you verify that?” Detective Thicke asked.

  Instead of letting his wife speak, Adam answered for her. “She can.”

  The detective turned back to Adam and glared. “I didn’t ask you.” Thicke then turned his attention back to Lily. “Can you verify that your husband was at home?”

  Lily took a deep breath, then shook her head. “No.”

  Adam groaned.

  The detective was far from done with Lily. He gave her a piercing stare. “Why can’t you verify it? Were y
ou not at home?”

  Lily took another deep breath. “No. I wasn’t.”

  “Where were you then?”

  “Driving to my sister’s. That’s where I spent the night.”

  “What time did you arrive at your sister’s place?” Detective Thicke asked.

  “Around eleven,” she replied.

  “Around?”

  “I had a lot on my mind. I wasn’t hyper-focused on what time it was.”

  “Were you driving alone?” Detective Thicke wondered.

  “Yes,” Lily said.

  “So you don’t have anyone to verify your story either,” Detective Thicke insisted.

  Lily sighed. “I guess not, but I was driving.”

  The detective stared into her eyes, scribbled another note down, and then turned his attention back to Adam Foster.

  “Are you still sticking with your story?” Detective Thicke asked.

  “I was at home,” Adam replied.

  “Alone, though, right?”

  “I have no one to verify it if that’s what you mean. But I was there,” Adam said.

  “Let me tell you something, a story is only as good as an independent party’s ability to corroborate it,” the detective replied.

  Detective Thicke moved on to Sasha Irwin next.

  “How about you, Ms. Irwin, where were you last night?” he asked.

  “I was taking my dog for a walk,” Sasha answered.

  The detective was critical. “At that hour?”

  “He’d been cooped up all day. He needed to burn some energy off,” Sasha said.

  “But at such a late hour? I find it curious that a woman would be walking alone at night like that.”

  “Sir, I have a German Shepard. Trust me, I have no problem walking alone at night.”

  “So you do admit that you were alone then?” the detective said.

  That question caught her off guard. “Well, technically. But I was out walking my dog.”

  Detective Thicke stared her down, then approached the greasy-haired man.

  “Mr. Voss, you’re up next. Where were you last night?” the detective asked.

  “I was watching my team win their third straight,” Voss replied.

  “Was anyone with you?”

  “Nah. I was watching the game alone. But I can tell you everything that happened in that game. Every touchdown, every sack, everything,” Voss insisted.

  “A simple internet search can tell you that too. The fact is, you have no one to corroborate your alibi,” the detective said.

  Detective Thicke then moved on to Chloe.

  “Ms. Cook, either you keep finding trouble or trouble keeps finding you,” Thicke said.

  “It’s the latter,” Chloe insisted.

  “Uh huh. Where were you between ten and eleven last night?” the detective asked.

  “I was at ‘Pie Paradise’ talking with my friend Shannon McGraw. You can call her at 555-3849. She’ll verify my story,” Chloe said.

  Detective Thicke smiled. “What a refreshing answer. I’ll have my deputy do just that.” He then turned to Deputy Stanton. “Hey Stanton, call this Shannon McGraw up.”

  “Yes Sir,” Deputy Stanton replied.

  The detective then approached Paige O’Doul.

  “Ms. O’Doul, where were you last night?” Detective Thicke asked.

  “On my way back to my parent’s house,” Paige said.

  Chloe furrowed her brow at that answer. She expected Paige to say that she was in bed or watching TV, not on her way back to her parent’s house. Chloe had dropped Paige off at her folks’ place well before then. Had Paige left after that? Chloe wasn’t the only one with questions.

  The detective was just as curious. “The question is, where were you on your way back from?”

  Paige tensed up. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  The pit in Chloe’s stomach got bigger. What was going on here? Chloe had a feeling she didn’t want to know the answer.

  The detective sure did. “Let me help you out. We got a call from one of the neighbor’s saying they spotted you getting in your car and pulling out of Ryan Foster’s driveway around ten o’clock.”

  Everyone in the lineup gasped except Chloe, who sighed.

  Panic was all over Paige’s face. “That’s true. I was here. I had a quick conversation with Ryan, then left. I didn’t kill him, though. He was alive when I left.”

  Detective Thicke shook his head. “Do you really expect me to believe that?”

  Paige nodded. “It’s the truth.”

  “Are you saying you just happened to have a conversation with the deceased a few minutes before he was murdered, but that some mysterious other person came by after you left and killed him?”

  “I know how it sounds--”

  “Ridiculous is how it sounds.”

  “We’ve all heard the saying, but the fact is, sometimes the truth really is stranger than fiction,” Paige insisted.

  “Why don’t you just confess already?” Detective Thicke said.

  “Because I didn’t do this.”

  “We’ll see about that. My men are dusting this whole place for prints, including the murder weapon. If you didn’t do this, it shouldn’t be long before I find out who did. Either way, I should have all the physical evidence I need to charge the guilty party before long. In the meantime, don’t any of you even think about leaving town,” Detective Thicke declared.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chloe’s heart was nearly beating out of her chest. What a stunning turn of events. If things were looking bad for Paige before, they were downright dire now. It was clear that in the detective’s mind at least, Paige was the prime suspect in this case.

  Still, despite appearances, something was gnawing at the back of Chloe’s mind. A key part of this scene didn’t make a lick of sense to her, and she wasn’t afraid to tell the detective just that.

  While the other suspects looked anxious to put as much distance between themselves and this crime scene, Chloe took a quick breather, then headed straight towards the detective.

  “Detective Thicke,” Chloe said.

  Thicke finished talking with Deputy Stanton. He turned to Chloe.

  “Ms. Cook, I had a feeling I hadn’t heard the last of you,” the detective said.

  “You sure haven’t.”

  “Although I must say, you really should stop going to parties. They never seem to end well.”

  Chloe sighed. “Don’t remind me.”

  “There is some good news. My deputy checked out your alibi. Congratulations, you’re no longer a suspect in this case.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not actually here to talk to you about me.”

  Detective Thicke looked eager to shut her down. “Don’t even start with me.”

  Chloe was confused. “But you don’t even know what I’m going to say--”

  “Stop treating me like a fool. I’m far from it. I know you came over here to try and convince me that Paige O’Doul is innocent.”

  Chloe’s eyes opened wide. He was completely spot-on. Maybe he wasn’t as thick as she thought.

  “How did you know that?” she asked.

  “I’m a detective. It’s my job to know things like that and let me tell you; you’re wasting your breath trying to plead your case for Paige.”

  “You must have a shorter memory than I thought. You questioned my instincts on the last case too and look how that worked out,” Chloe said.

  “The problem with luck is that it eventually runs out.”

  “I’d be careful who you’re underestimating.”

  Detective Thicke didn’t back down. “And I’d be careful who you’re defending. Paige admitted she was here around the time of the murder.”

  “Yes, around the time, not at the time. It’s entirely plausible that Paige could have had her conversation with Ryan Foster, then left before the killer arrived. As a matter of fact, the killer could have watched the conversation and realized Paige would be the p
erfect fall girl.”

  “What about the murder weapon? It’s the same one as in the play she’s starring in,” the detective reasoned.

  “Is it really the same one as from the play, or just similar to the one in the play?”

  “My boys are going to be checking that out. They’ll be swinging by the props department and seeing if a golf club is missing. Either way, the fact that a golf club was used to kill Ryan Foster seems more than just coincidental.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  Relief came to the detective’s face. “It’s good to hear you’re finally listening to reason.”

  “The golf club was the perfect weapon to use to frame Paige for the crime,” Chloe revealed.

  Detective Thicke groaned. “You may be able to argue with me, but you can’t argue with lab results. If Paige’s prints are on that club, this case is closed.”

  “Come on detective. We both know the killer was probably smart enough to wipe the prints off that club. They’d be foolish not to. Which means you’re going to need a confession.”

  “You’re presuming a lot. I’d prefer to let the facts speak for themselves.”

  “And what facts are those?”

  “My team is working on that now. I’m confident I’ll have the evidence I need to make an arrest in this case in the near future. Now excuse me, I have work to get back to,” the detective said.

  “Just one thing. If Paige killed Ryan Foster, why would she leave the murder weapon at the scene of the crime?” Chloe asked.

  Detective Thicke hesitated before answering. He was clearly caught off guard by that question.

  “Maybe she heard a noise and panicked.”

  “In that case, she’d still bring it with her. A golf club makes her look guilty by default.”

  “That’s because she most likely is guilty.”

  “We’ll see about that,” Chloe said.

  Detective Thicke stared her down. “We certainly will. Now for the last time, I have work to do.”

  The detective walked away, leaving Chloe completely frustrated.

  Chapter Twelve