When Heaven meets Hell

Chapter Thirty Three

"The evening of the fifteenth of September, where were you?"
"Really Inspector, you need to ask that again?"
"Please Miss Hale, answer the question."

Joan sighed, her fingers tapping against the table in annoyance. Before her was a middle aged man with a beard and glasses, a severe expression on his face. He watched Joan with unblinking eyes occasionally flickering down to the papers in his hands. The man was Inspector James Glade and he had been paying Joan regular visits over the past week.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" Avander offered, leaning over to whisper in Joan's ear. "All it will take is the snap of my fingers and I'll make him stop bothering you.""Don't" Joan murmured. "Things are bad enough as they are."

"Did you say something Miss Hale?" Glade asked, arching a brow questioningly.
"I said nothing Inspector." Joan replied, keeping her voice clam and monotonous. "And as I have told you many times before, that evening I had indeed met Mr. Maxwell at The People's Park before he died. It was upon his request. He had hoped to come to an agreement regarding the case we were fighting over. Unfortunately we did not find any common ground and parted ways. The next morning I found out he had taken his own life."

"I see. And this was the letter he sent you for the meeting?" The Inspector held up a letter, upon which there was an untidy scrawl. "This was the letter you showed the authorities right after his death, correct?"
Joan stared at the letter and felt a smile tug at her lips. She had indeed shown that letter to the authorities, addressed to her by Maxwell. However, it was not the real letter she had received. That and all its contents had been incinerated long ago. The one the Inspector held was in fact forged.

"Indeed." Joan nodded. "I'm surprised they still kept it.
"We do not throw away evidence Miss Hale." Glade muttered, placing the letter on the table. "I wonder though, is this really the note Mr. Maxwell sent you? Are you sure there wasn't any additional information along with it?"
"I don't believe so." Joan lied, allowing confusion to register on her face momentarily, followed by a thoughtful expression. "The letter did not seem to hint such a thing either. What makes you think there was any additional information with it?"
"It's just a hunch." He shrugged. "At any rate, your story remains exactly as it was a week earlier, not a trace of change. Most guilty people would inadvertently withhold information they previously stated, or add something new in order to prove their innocence."
"Why should I make any changes when what I say is the absolute truth?" Joan asked, raising a brow. Glade ignored this and moved on.

"Now, how about recounting what happened at the opening of Brycend Theater?"

Joan resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She was sitting in the great room with the evening scenery visible from the large glass windows. The door was closed and the mansion was silent, for all the servants were busy and Heidi was fast asleep. This had become a routine as for the past week .Glade had been visiting and interrogating her regularly. Somehow the police had taken it upon themselves to investigate the recent rise in the deaths. That led them to investigate Maxwell and Colton and subsequently her, given that she was the common link between the two men. While it was obvious they had no solid evidence against her, the interrogations continued and Joan had a sneaking suspicion that all their efforts and interest were indeed concentrated on her and not the need to investigate the climbing death toll. This was not the first time she was being question, but it was indeed the first time she was made to feel like a suspect.

"Again, Inspector my story remains the same as it was before." Joan said testily. "I was invited to attend the opening and was in the audience when Mr. Colton burst into flame. I panicked and rushed out of the theater with all the other guests."
"I see." Glade nodded, looking down at his notes. "Tell me Miss Hale, are you aware of the fact that a month or so after Mr. Colton's demise his son Thomas disappeared? Around the time he disappeared there was a fire in a church near Harding road. I believe you were well acquainted with him. Do you have any idea where he may have gone to?"