He gritted his teeth. It was clear he didn’t want to answer, but Ms. Martin looked just as curious to find out as Meg was.
“She’s just a friend. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s somewhere else I need to be,” he said.
Tyler couldn’t get out of that apartment fast enough.
Chapter Six
Meg’s instinct was telling her Tyler knew more than he was letting on. She wanted to know what it was. As Tyler made his way down the hallway, Meg said goodbye to Ms. Martin, then followed him. It turned out he was a slippery guy. By the time Meg reached the hallway, he was already out of sight. She decided to pick up the pace, hoping to close the distance between them.
Unfortunately, when she reached the front of the building, Tyler was already across the street getting into the car driven by his female friend. He must have seriously booked it to get away. Just when it didn’t seem like he could look any more suspicious, he found a way to do just that.
Meg made one last ditch effort and called out to him. “Tyler, can I have another word with you?”
Meg’s request went ignored. His female friend pulled out of her parking spot and drove away.
Meg sighed, frustrated as could be. Just as she took a few deep breaths to calm down, she heard a deep male voice over her shoulder addressing her.
“That guy is nothing but trouble.”
Meg turned around and saw a scrawny, bespectacled, black-haired man in his mid-thirties leaning against the front of the building smoking a cigarette.
“What did you just say?” Meg replied.
“Tyler’s bad news.”
“How do you know that? And who are you?”
The bespectacled man introduced himself. “My name is Scott Bailey. I’m Paige’s next-door neighbor. Who are you?”
“I’m Meg Walton, one of Paige’s old friends from San Diego. I came into town for the funeral.”
“I was really sad when I heard the news about Paige. She was a genuinely nice woman. And in a town filled with as many phonies as Hollywood is, that’s really refreshing.”
Meg nodded. “Yeah. I’ll really miss her.”
“Let me tell you something, Meg. If I were you, I wouldn’t listen to a word that comes out of Tyler’s mouth.”
“Why is that?”
Scott dropped his cigarette on the pavement, then stomped it out, before scanning the street as if someone was listening in on the conversation.
“Why don’t you come to my apartment and I’ll tell you?”
Things sure got shifty in a hurry. Meg didn’t know what was up with Scott all of a sudden, but the last thing she was about to do was go back to his apartment. Thirty seconds ago, the man was a complete stranger.
“I’d rather have the conversation out here if that’s ok with you.”
Scott shrugged his shoulders. Since they weren’t going back to his place, he immediately pulled out another cigarette and lit it up. “Fair enough.”
“So, what do you have against Tyler Watson?”
“He’s just not a good dude.”
“Would you care to elaborate?”
“He and Paige used to fight a lot. He resented what a strong woman she was, how she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and how she wouldn’t take crap from anybody.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I lived right next door to her, and let me tell you, the walls aren’t exactly thick in this place.”
“Were you the one who found the…”
Meg trailed off, not able to say the words.
Scott knew where she was going. “Body?” He shook his head. “Our landlord found Paige’s body. Her cat had been scratching at the front door all day and yowling nonstop. One of the neighbors complained, so our landlord went into the unit to check up on her. That’s when he found her.”
“That’s awful.”
Scott was sure forthcoming with details. After Meg’s conversation with Tyler, that was refreshing. She was hoping to get these kinds of candid answers from Tyler.
At the same time, she couldn’t help but notice Scott’s beef with Tyler seemed personal. Had Tyler done something to slight Scott? There was one way to find out.
“You seem to have a serious beef with Tyler? Did he do something to you?”
For the first time, Scott didn’t seem a hundred percent truthful with his answer. “It just bothered me the way he treated Paige. Like I said, she was a good woman. That was rare to find around these parts.”
“Trust me, that’s rare to find anywhere, not just in Los Angeles.”
“You’re probably right.”
“So, when you say you used to hear things through the walls, did you hear anything that stood out the night Paige died?”
He nodded. “I sure did. Paige and Tyler got into a big fight a few hours before she killed herself.”
“What about?”
“Unfortunately, I couldn’t make out all the details, but I know she kicked him out of her place because I heard him ranting to himself about it as he walked down the hallway.”
Slowly but surely Meg seemed to finally be getting somewhere. Her suspicions about Tyler Watson withholding information were being confirmed, although there were still plenty of loose ends with him that needed tying up. At least now the reason why he didn’t seem terribly remorseful about his girlfriend’s death was becoming apparent. Meg had a feeling that fight he had with Paige held the key to her death.
Had Paige broken up with him? Was she so heartbroken over something he’d done that she couldn’t go on? If only Scott had heard more of the argument. Still, at least he’d given her something to go on. Yet, with each answer Meg got, she seemed to have new questions. It was so frustrating.
Before she could get more information out of Scott, their conversation was interrupted by the approach of a tall, brawny man in his late twenties with rock star-style long hair.
Scott looked confused as he glanced at the brawny man exiting the front of the apartment building carrying a large brown moving box.
“Ben, what are you doing?” Scott asked.
“What does it look like? I’m out of here,” Ben replied.
Scott furrowed his brow. “But I thought Larry decided to let you stay.”
“He did. It’s just time to make tracks man,” Ben said.
“What a bummer. Well, don’t leave without saying goodbye, all right?”
“You know it.”
Ben carried his box out to a rental van in the parking lot.
Scott sighed and shook his head. “How strange?”
Meg hated being completely in the dark like this. “What’s so strange about him moving out?”
“Wait. Paige didn’t tell you about Ben Howard?”
“No. Should she have?”
“I figured she would have at least mentioned him, considering how much trouble he caused her.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Paige had been trying to get our landlord to throw him out of the building for months.”
This was all news to Meg. She was learning all kinds of things about her old friend today, all of which gave her cause for concern.
“Why was she trying to do that?”
“It started when she began hearing loud barking coming from Ben’s apartment, which was especially odd, considering our building doesn’t allow pets.”
“So what, he had a dog in there, and didn’t want to get rid of it?”
Scott nodded. “Ben told the landlord it was his service dog and that it was the only thing keeping him from having anxiety attacks.”
“Let me guess, Paige didn’t believe him.”
“She wasn’t the only one. She was just the only one to force the issue.”
“Was it a service dog?”
“Ben was never able to produce any paperwork proving it was, but he did threaten the landlord with a lawsuit if he got evicted. The landlord held off on giving him an eviction notice until he was able to get a definitive answer ei
ther way.”
“Nothing like the threat of a lawsuit to muck everything up.”
Scott nodded again. “Ben seemed hell bent on doing anything it took to keep from getting evicted. That’s why it’s so strange that he’s moving out now.”
“That is quite odd,” Meg replied.
Scott then saw Ben returning from the parking lot.
Scott turned back to her. “Anyway, I should be heading back into my apartment. I have some work to do. It was nice meeting you.”
Once again, Meg found herself in the position of being in a conversation with someone that couldn’t wait to be elsewhere.
With all this information being thrown at her so quickly, she nearly forgot something she’d been meaning to ask him.
“One more thing.”
“What is it?”
“That woman who was in the car with Tyler. Do you know her?”
Scott didn’t hesitate for a second. “Of course. That’s his ex-girlfriend, Phoebe Cooper.”
Chapter Seven
If Meg wasn’t having a hard enough time believing her friend had killed herself before, her doubt had reached all new levels. Something just didn’t add up, and the more she tried to piece together this puzzle, the less it all made sense. With so many questions left unanswered, she went searching for clarity. She had a hunch there was one place she could find it; the Los Angeles police department.
Roy Brees was the detective that had arrived at the scene the night Paige’s body had been discovered. He was the one that deemed her death a suicide. If she was going to get closure, he’d be the one who could give it to her.
In all her life, she never thought she’d be looking forward to setting foot in police headquarters. Meg’s mind was more of a mess than a microwave after heating up a bowl of soup without a cover on it. Her heart wasn’t in much better shape either.
Speaking with the police would be joyless by nature, but hopefully, very informative. It was closure she was seeking, and if all went as she expected, that’s what she’d leave with.
The interior of the police station was as drab as a building could be. Not that she was expecting it to be warm and homey, like a trip to grandma’s house. Even given the various county-run institutions she’d set foot in over the years, this one was in a monochrome class by itself.
Meg was probably the only one to notice. The place was bustling. In the ten minutes she sat waiting for the detective to come out and talk to her, there wasn’t a single quiet moment. The phone never stopped ringing, various perpetrators were dragged in by police deputies, and officers walked to and fro discussing various cases and other official matters.
The only thing more chaotic was her mind. She’d gone from an unsettling feeling in her stomach to a nagging suspicion in her mind that had ballooned into full-blown disbelief. There was an uneasiness that had burrowed in her brain. The only way it could be quelled was to discover the truth.
As Detective Roy Brees approached and brought Meg back to his desk, she hoped to get some clarity in short order.
The detective had other things on his mind. He looked like he wanted to get this conversation over as soon as possible, and it hadn’t even begun yet.
“What do you want? I’m a busy man,” Detective Brees said.
That was not the best possible start to the proceedings. A brusque greeting from a man who clearly had a short fuse. The detective looked worn down. If he was anything but a big city cop, Meg would say he was just in need of a strong cup of coffee. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to make this guy chipper.
He looked to be in his early fifties, but it was hard to pinpoint it for sure, given the stress lines on his face. It was safe to say life on the mean streets had taken its toll, leaving the detective looking perpetually burnt out. One thing that wasn’t past its prime was his body. He was a tall man, and bulky to boot. She felt intimidated just sitting across from him, and she didn’t even do anything wrong. There was one thing she was very thankful for; that he was in law enforcement. It would be downright scary if an intimidating figure like that was on the other side of the law.
Meg could tell the detective was anxious to shoo her away. An unwrapped Philly cheese steak sandwich on his desk was getting top billing in his mind. He wanted to give that his focus as soon as possible.
It was sobering to know melted cheese and juicy cuts of steak on a roll were a bigger priority than she was to this man. If she wanted to get any information out of him, she’d have to get straight to the point.
“This won’t take long. I just have a few questions for you,” Meg said.
The detective’s appetite got the better of him. He dug into his sandwich before responding. Roy then wiped his mouth with a napkin and sighed. “Fine. Fire away. But make it quick.”
Meg hated being marginalized like this, especially in favor of a sandwich. It demanded to be talked through to a logical and thoughtful conclusion. The odds of that happening seemed to be long. Given that, she at least wanted to get as much information as she could.
“Have you considered that Paige Martin may not have killed herself?”
If the detective wasn’t disinterested enough in talking to Meg before, he couldn’t wait to get rid of her now. He gave an abrupt, one-word reply. “No.”
“You should.”
“Let me guess, Paige was a family member of yours.”
“She was an old friend,” Meg corrected.
Detective Brees put his sandwich back down on his desk, then leaned back in his chair. “Are you a doctor?”
Meg shook her head. “No.”
He followed up. “A detective?”
Meg shook her head again.
“This case was reviewed by both myself and the coroner. We both came to the same conclusion. Trust the professionals; it was a suicide.”
The detective clearly meant that to be his definitive end statement on the matter. It didn’t do anything to reassure her. Then again, Meg was never a fan of condescending answers.
Much to the detective’s frustration, she pressed on with her own theory. “How can you be so sure?”
He became more expressive about his displeasure that this conversation was still taking place. “I’ve seen a lot of cases like this; that’s how.”
The detective underestimated Meg’s determination. Some would call it stubbornness, but determination just sounded better.
The same determination that had served Meg so well in her professional life carried over into her personal life as well. “I really think you should reconsider.”
He didn’t want to hear it. The detective answered in the cold, detached way that big city cops seemed to specialize in. “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”
Meg grimaced, realizing she was getting nowhere. It was like trying to push through a brick wall here. Or, maybe not.
The more Meg’s face contorted, the more she began to see a different side to the detective. His stone face began to crack. Her anguish over this case started chipping away at his gruff exterior until he finally gave her a humane response.
“I know it’s hard to see a friend go out like this. You want to believe it’s not the truth, but sometimes it is.”
Meg felt like she was finally making some progress. Not only was that a heartfelt response, but it also seemed to be from a truthful place. The look in his eyes gave it away. It was more than just talk to him; he was clearly speaking from experience.
Still, those weren’t the words Meg had come to the police station to hear. “Sometimes, yes, but I don’t think this time.”
He groaned. The last ounce of his patience had been whittled down.
She tried to explain herself. “Look, I’m trying to piece this together, but it doesn’t add up.”
“You’re not from L.A., are you?”
“No.”
“This kind of thing happens every day here. People come to Hollywood, looking to make it big. They all think they are going to be stars. Most of them end up waiting
tables until they give up and move back to Fargo or Tuscaloosa or wherever they’re from. Some lose hope completely and decide to end it all.”
“Not Paige. She didn’t come here to make it big in Hollywood. She didn’t want to be an actress.”
“I just used Hollywood as an example. Everyone comes to Los Angeles with a dream. When their lives turn into a nightmare, they’ll do anything to make the pain stop. I’m telling you; that’s what happened here.”
It was one thing to be on different sides of the matter. They were in different hemispheres. There was a chasm between them. Meg had to try a different approach to bridge the gap.
“Paige’s mother told me there wasn’t a suicide note.”
The detective had an answer for that one too. “No, but there isn’t always one. I’ve seen a lot of suicides in my years on the force, and discovered fewer notes than you’d think.”
That could be true in other cases, but Meg knew things the detective didn’t. “Paige wrote everything down. She was a prolific journaler. Trust me, if she had really committed suicide, she would have left a note.”
“Stop saying if. She did.”
“That’s my other point. She was philosophically opposed to suicide. She told me once that she thought it was a coward’s way out.”
“Things change. More importantly, people change.”
The detective was more empathetic to Meg’s anguish, but he was still a brick wall when it came to his opinion of this case. It turned out they were both equally stubborn. Or, full of dogged determination. But while Meg had explained her rationale, he had been tight-lipped over his reasoning.
“How can you be so sure she killed herself?”
“I saw the scene. My men went over that whole apartment. There was no evidence of foul play.”
“Just because you didn’t find evidence doesn’t mean there wasn’t foul play.”
“Ms. Walton, I’m a detective. My whole business is finding evidence.”
“Then go find some.”
The detective had heard enough. “Do you know how many crimes are committed in this city every day? I have a whole stack of unsolved cases begging for my attention here. I’m not wasting my time on a case that is this open and shut.”
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