Free Ax to Grind by Amelia Morgan

it. 
    Connor flashed his badge.  “Nate McMillan, I’m detective Connor Smith.  I have to ask you a few questions.  Can we come in?”
    Nate stood his ground, not budging an inch.  “You can ask your questions from out there.”
    “Ok.  Where were you last night between eleven and midnight?” Connor asked. 
    Nate didn’t answer.  He instead fired back with a question of his own.  “You want to know if I murdered Ethan Wakefield, don’t you?”
    “Mr. McMillan, I’m the one asking the questions here.  Now, where were you?”
    Once again, Nate followed his own agenda.  “I don’t appreciate you going around town, accusing both my daughter and me of murder.”
    “We haven’t accused anyone of anything.  We’re just looking to find out the truth.  To do that, we’re going to need you to answer our questions,” Meg said. 
    “My family had nothing to do with that dirt bag’s murder,” Nate insisted.
    “It’s funny that you’d say you had nothing to do with Ethan’s death, yet you’re very candid about the fact that you hated him,” Meg said. 
    “I’m too old to pretend a scumbag is anything but a scumbag.”
    “Mr. McMillan, you do realize you’re spelling out a motive for murder, right?” Connor explained. 
    Nate narrowed his eyes.  “If I killed all the people I hated, this town would have a much smaller population than it does now.  The thing is, motive doesn’t always equal murder.”
    “Are you saying you didn’t kill Ethan Wakefield?” Meg asked. 
    “Of course I didn’t.  You think a grease ball like that is worth going to jail over?” Nate snapped. 
    Connor played devil’s advocate.  “People do crazy things in the heat of the moment.  You sold the theater you’d owned for decades under the strict condition that he’d keep your daughter’s play running, and then Ethan turned around and betrayed his word.  That would set almost anyone off.”
    “Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy he’s dead.  I just wasn’t the one that gave him that dirt nap,” Nate said. 
    Connor then circled back around again.  “You still haven’t answered my question.  Where were you last night between eleven and midnight?”
    “I’m seventy-six years old.  Where do you think I was?  In bed,” Nate barked. 
    “Do you have anyone to verify that?” Meg asked. 
    “Unlike sleaze balls that go back on their word, I mean what I say.  My word means something, and I’m telling you, I was in bed.  You can stake your life on it,” Nate declared.
    “Unfortunately, an alibi doesn’t mean anything unless it can be verified,” Connor explained. 
    Nate was hardly cheery to begin with, but he went full grump suddenly.  “I don’t have anything else to say to you, and you don’t have enough to arrest me, so get off my porch.”
    Apparently, both members of the McMillan family had short tempers.  Since Meg and Connor clearly weren’t going to get any further information from Nate, they decided to turn their attention to the next suspect on the list. 
     
     
     
    Chapter Nineteen
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    After their interview with Nate McMillan didn’t yield the results they wanted, Connor and Meg decided to take a break from the investigation.  Their stomachs didn’t give them much of a choice.  Blood sugar crashes were not something that could easily be shrugged off, nor should they.  They needed their minds to be as sharp as possible at a time like this.  That meant one thing; it was time to get some brain food.
    There was nowhere in town better to do that than at Al’s Diner.  Al’s was a no-frills joint.  Connor and Meg didn’t care.  They weren’t there for the atmosphere.  It was comfort food they craved, and Al’s had plenty of it.  Pot pies, casseroles, mashed potatoes, grilled cheese; if it clogged arteries and torpedoed diets, it was on the menu. 
    Meg didn’t even have to look at the menu.  She always went with the chicken pot pie.  It