I closed the gap between us while McGraw continued to gawk at me, wide-eyed and in a state of shock. I moved swiftly and with purpose, like a panther closing in on its prey. I had him caught off guard and had no idea how long it would last. He was rattled, so the time for me to pounce and try and get him to talk was now, before he pulled it together, composed himself, and kept his word about not needing to speak with me.
When I was five feet away, I saw panic flash in McGraw’s eyes. After glancing around, and realizing it was just us alone in the axe-throwing alley, McGraw yanked a small hatchet free from the stump and braced himself in position—not for attacking, but poised to repel one. By the time I was only a couple of steps away he had the weapon cocked behind his ear.
I thought of backing off, but decided against it. Maybe I sensed that McGraw was on the ropes, or perhaps it was the fact I had just gone toe-to-toe with Kelly Lewis in a knife fight and felt good about my self-defence skills. It didn’t matter—I wasn’t going to stop unless he swung his hatchet at me.
“I’d re-think that move, Bub. You might have gotten away with one murder this afternoon, but they’ll nail you for two.”
“I didn’t kill him!” McGraw yelled, before jumping back defensively and weakly slicing his hatchet through the air. It was far from a killing blow, one I would even call pathetic.
I slowed my pace, as if to encourage him to engage in more nervous chatter. “He died from an axe to the head, McGraw. Look at where we are and what you can do.”
“I swear! You have to believe me! I didn’t—I would never kill Jasper!”
“You resented him because unlike you he came from a genuine lumberjack lineage. He was your top rival. And you really want that STIHL sponsorship.”
“Which is exactly why I tried to pay him off!” he exclaimed.
Boom Sha Lock Lock Boom.
Declan’s impromptu motivational speaker’s entrance theme echoed in my head. I had him now. “So, it was your money.”
“Yes,” he conceded, still holding the hatchet, but lowering it slightly. “I thought that he would just take it and bow out. I mean, that’s what he said he’d do.”
“Jasper wouldn’t promise that.”
“No, not Jasper. His boyfriend. Kelly Lewis.”
Now things were starting to make sense. Lewis being triggered by the mere mention of the money before he pulled his Bowie knife, and the fight Pippen overheard between him and Jasper in which the former yelled about “giving up on their dream” and “throwing it all away.” Whatever that was exactly and how it involved at least a hundred-grand didn’t really matter, just that Lewis had seen an opportunity for a payday and clearly Jasper couldn’t bring himself to take it, which tracked after what he had shared with me about his grandfather and loggersports. Their fight occurred after Jasper and I had commiserated over our complicated relationships with our lost loves, which meant that when Lewis went at him by the boom run pool not long before the murder, it must have been some kind of last ditch effort by the rodeo clown to sway his ex.
Did Jasper even know that a payoff had occurred? If he did, he certainly didn’t take off with it like Lewis seemed to want him to, but instead chose to continue competing in the day’s woodcutting events. And if he didn’t know, and Lewis had somehow stashed the money in his former lover’s locker without his knowledge, it was still pretty clear that Jasper wouldn’t take a bribe. Could that rejection have caused Lewis to snap and murder the man he loved? He was bipolar and I had experienced firsthand how his intense mood swings could result in violence—the guy had tried to stab me to death. But something just didn’t sit right with me about that. Despite how unhinged he could be, I still wasn’t sure Lewis would or could actually kill Jasper.
Maybe I was overthinking it. What the hell did I know, anyway? Truth was, I was far from well acquainted with either man, and had been out of the investigation game for the better part of a year. Even Sykes, who was one of my biggest supporters, had commented on my sleuthing skills being rusty.
Or perhaps, given all my pining over Rya, my brief encounter with my better-than-ever ex-girlfriend Stormy, or the sudden fluttering of my heart when I thought of Annie Tibbs and her freckles and strawberry blonde hair, I was just a hapless and hopeless romantic not wanting to see the truth that was staring me in the face.
In the end, all of my pointless pondering did me no favours, because it kept me from seeing Harland “Hot Saw” McGraw swing an axe at me until it was far too late.