Ah. The woman was lonely. “According to Detective Hughes, you witnessed someone leaving Bruce Ward’s house. Do you remember the time?”
“Hmm. I know Bruce’s wife, Sandra, came home a little before five p.m. About forty-five minutes later, she was walking out of the house carrying an overnight bag and her purse when she climbed into her car and drove off.”
“Any chance you know where she was going?”
“No idea.”
“Did you see the person with the wig arrive after that?”
“No. Bruce Ward was dropped off by a coworker at six thirty. Bruce is a highway maintenance operator. He and Sandra only have one dependable car, so his friends take turns driving Bruce around.”
Writing as fast as she could, Sawyer wondered if the woman stared out her kitchen window all day long. “And then you saw someone wearing a wig leave Bruce Ward’s house?”
“Not until seven fifteen. I was washing dishes when I saw someone push through the side gate.”
“Can you describe this person?”
“He wore—”
“He?”
She nodded. “It was a man.”
Sawyer’s eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. “Are you sure?”
“Well, I wouldn’t bet my life on it.” She entwined her fingers nervously. “He didn’t walk like a woman.”
Sawyer’s tiny bubble of excitement burst. “How does a woman walk?”
“You know . . . with a sway in the hips.”
Sawyer clamped down on her disappointment. The woman was clearly confused. Just as Detective Hughes had said, she was getting up there in age. No reason to press her. She could always revisit the gender later. People she interviewed usually tired of questions quickly, and she wanted to keep it moving. “How tall would you say the intruder was?”
Trudy pursed her lips and squinted her eyes as if that might help her remember. Sawyer stood and walked over to a bookshelf and pointed at the highest shelf. “That tall?”
“Shorter than that.”
Sawyer pointed to the next lowest shelf. “How about this tall?”
Trudy shook her head. “I would say he was two shelves taller than you.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe only one shelf taller than you.”
“Okay. Good. Somewhere between five foot eight inches and five foot ten.” Sawyer returned to the couch. “Are you sure this person was wearing a wig?”
“Absolutely. It was crooked. I could see lighter hair sticking out from the sides.”
“Blond or light-brown hair underneath?”
“Light brown . . . the color of wheat.”
“Perfect.”
“It looked to me like the wig was slipped on in a rush,” Trudy went on. “My friend Helen wears a wig, and she never gets it on straight.” Trudy used her hands to try to mimic how his hair looked. Finally, she picked up her napkin and placed it lopsided on her head.
Sawyer smiled. The old lady was cute and sweet and kind, like her grandmother. “Other than the walk, did you notice anything else unusual?”
Trudy seemed to ponder the question a moment before saying, “There was something—maybe a dragon—fire—there were flames on the front of his T-shirt.”
“You think it was a dragon?” Sawyer made another note.
“I’m not sure about the dragon. But the design looked like reddish-orange flames.”
“Okay. You’re doing great. Did this person climb into a car and drive away?”
“No. He just came out of the gate and walked away, keeping to the sidewalk.”
“And that’s when you called the police?”
Wide-eyed, she said, “I wish I had. But I didn’t. I figured he was a friend of Bruce’s and maybe they were working on his old car that he won’t let Sandra get rid of.”
“So what made you call the police?”
“Tomorrow is garbage day.”
“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Sawyer pointed out.
“Tomorrow is a special garbage day when they pick up bulk trash. Stuff that won’t fit into the regular bin. I knew Bruce had a lot of trash in his backyard, and I didn’t want him to miss the opportunity to get rid of the old tires and mattress he has back there. Sandra is always trying to get him to clean up the place, so I went to knock on the door, but before I got that far I heard a loud noise coming from inside his garage. It was a car engine. I went through the side gate and tried opening the door to the garage, but it was locked. After that, I went and knocked on the front door. I even rang the bell, but nobody answered so I came back here and called the police. It was almost eight p.m. by then.”
Trudy’s face fell.
“It’s okay. You did the right thing. Nobody could have saved him.”
“Oh, I’m not worried about Bruce. Sandra will be glad he’s gone. I was just thinking how I wish I could get someone to haul all that junk from his backyard to the street before it’s too late.”
Sawyer tried not to show her surprise since she wanted the woman to keep talking. “Sandra and Bruce don’t get along?”
“He pushed her around once and bruised her good. She ran over here, and I called the police. That was a few years ago. She said she was going to leave him, but I think she was scared and had nowhere to go. I offered her a room, but she said it would only make things worse.”
“Any chance Sandra could have been the one wearing the wig?”
“Not a chance. I may be old, but I’m not dead and I’m certainly not blind. I’ve known Sandra for years. I know what she looks like. Besides, Sandra is short. I’d be surprised if she hit five foot two.”
“So you have Sandra’s phone number?”
Trudy nodded.
After gathering Sandra’s work and cell number along with Trudy’s home phone number, Sawyer thanked her and headed outside just as Lexi was making her way back.
“Were you just at the witness’s house?” Lexi asked.
Sawyer nodded. “She wanted to talk, so I let her. I’ll give you a copy of my notes.”
“No need. I’ll get a full report from Detective Hughes.”
“What is wrong with you?” Sawyer asked. “Have I offended you in some way?”
Lexi headed for her car.
Sawyer stayed close on her heels.
“You just do whatever you want, and somehow it always works out for you, doesn’t it?”
“I follow my instincts, if that’s what you mean.”
After they climbed in and buckled up, Lexi said, “I didn’t have to bring you along tonight, but I did.”
“Thank you.”
Lexi was a tough nut to crack. Passive aggressive at times. Helpful at times, and yet angry and resentful. The best thing Sawyer could do would be not to overreact. The drive home was spent in silence.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Early Saturday morning, Cleo paid the Lyft driver and then jumped out of the car and shut the door. As she made her way to the coffee shop on the corner, she found it strange that she wasn’t feeling nervous. She’d waited so long for this day to come, and it was finally here. It was her turn. Today was the day she would make Eddie Carter beg for his life.