Framed for Murder Page 7

  Chapter 7

  It was weird going back to work on Monday morning as if everything were fine and my whole life hadn’t been turned upside down by Jack’s murder, but I had a living to earn, so I went. To make matters worse, it was raining and misty and visibility was poor, so I drove into Calgary with extra caution. There were herds of deer that wintered in the fields alongside the roads, attracted by the hay the ranchers left out for their horses and cattle, and they could jump in front of your car in a matter of seconds. Still, I managed to make it safely into the city and parked in the university lot. Hurrying through the rain into the main building and down the hallway, I passed a couple of early bird students waiting for their instructors. I arrived at the Kinesiology Department office, unlocked the door, flicked on the lights, and hung my coat on the back of the door. Re-opening it, I looked across the hall and saw that my boss hadn’t arrived yet. Grateful for some early morning peace, I sank into my chair and turned on the computer. Seconds later, Dr. Bryan Carmichael materialized on my door step. Bryan, a muscular young man with a shaved head and a silver ear stud, was dressed casually in a t-shirt and sweat pants. The dress code was pretty relaxed for Kinesiology instructors because their teaching involved physical demonstrations and lab work.

  “Hi Anna, how’s it going? Did you have a good weekend?” he asked. Obviously, he hadn’t read the Record’s report of Jack’s death.

  “Not bad,” I said. “You?”

  “Pretty good. I’ve got my spring course outline ready for printing. Do you have any Printing Services forms?”

  “Sure – they’re right over there on top of the cabinet,” I said, pointing to the credenza that held all the forms.

  “Oops, I always forget where you keep those things. My bad.” He grinned. “I’ll just grab a few and get out of your hair.”

  “Okay Bryan,” I said, entering my computer password.

  After he left, the mail cart rumbled down the hallway and stopped outside my door. Alice Cobb, the Chinook University mail person for the past twenty-seven years, walked into my office with a bundle of mail in her arms. She was a compact, wiry woman who always wore her long grey hair plaited in a single braid down her back.

  “Morning Anna,” she said, dumping her load into my inbox and removing the outgoing mail. “How was your drive in this morning?”

  I looked up and smiled. I liked Alice; she had taken me under her wing when I had arrived four years ago, explaining how things worked and where to find the kinesiology labs. “Pretty dismal with the rain. How was yours?”

  “The same,” Alice said. Like me, she preferred living in a small town and commuting to work. “Say, I saw a picture of Jack Nolan in Saturday’s paper. He was your ex-husband, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Sorry for your loss, but gee, he was a good-looking guy. Thick hair, nice eyes, great body. Yum! I wouldn’t have been too quick to kick him out of bed.” Alice talked big, but she’d been with the same guy for thirty-five years. I’d never met her Mike, but I’d heard so much about him over the years that he almost seemed like a close friend. She sat down on the edge of my desk and fiddled with her braid.

  “I don’t know about that, Alice. You were probably a lot savvier when you got married than I was. Maybe you wouldn’t have let him into your bed in the first place.”

  “Oh. You mean pretty boy, but not a lot of substance, eh?” she said, winking at me.

  “That about sums him up,” I replied with a smile. Alice had a way of getting to the point that I appreciated. Unfortunately, our conversation was interrupted by the sound of high heels tapping down the hallway. Alice jumped up and said, “Catch you later,” before hurrying out the door.

  “Bye,” I called after her.

  Magdalena stuck her perfectly-coiffed head into my office and said, “Good morning, Anna.”

  “Morning Magdalena.”

  “I have a meeting with the Dean at nine. Have you got that budget report ready?”

  I scooped up a binder from the top of my desk and held it out to her. Magdalena walked the rest of the way into my office, as beautifully turned out as always in a brown tweed suit with a lavender scarf tucked into the neckline of her cream-coloured blouse. The strap of her tailored leather briefcase was slung over one shoulder, and her pointy-toed, chocolate-brown stiletto pumps didn’t look as if they had just tramped through a muddy parking lot. I felt inferior in a navy and white-striped cotton sweater over navy slacks with sensible black flats. Her blond hair was swept up into a neat French twist, while I held back my long, brunette hair with gold barrettes.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking the report. “I hope that you’re feeling better. Did you have a nice weekend?” As she studied me, I wondered if she had seen Saturday’s newspaper report of Jack’s death. Silly me – of course she had. Magdalena always kept up with the news.

  “I’m much better, thank you,” I answered, ignoring the question about my weekend and not volunteering any information about the murder. If she wanted to know about Jack, she was going to have to come right out and ask me.

  “Good. The meeting should run about two hours. Please ask Bryan to drop by my office at 11:10.”

  “Certainly, Magdalena.”

  “Thank you.” She nodded, turned on her heel, and strode away. I exhaled and relaxed. Magdalena and I had worked together for two years now, but I would certainly not classify our relationship as “close.” She knew about Ben – I had introduced him to her at the start of the fall term – but I’d never discussed my marriage with her. It might have been a foolhardy wish, but I hoped to avoid that topic now, especially since Jack had been murdered. I suspected that my boss would have blamed me for allowing my life to become messy. Magdalena liked to run a tidy ship, and she wanted all of her crew members to be ship-shape.

  I managed to avoid her in a day heavy with meetings and sped off home as soon as the work day was over, thrilled that I hadn’t been forced to discuss Jack’s death with anyone but Alice. When I got home, Wendy greeted me with her usual ecstatic tail-thumping and rear end-wiggling routine, and I let her out into the back yard. Kicking off my shoes and heading toward the bedroom to change out of my work clothes, I heard the doorbell ring. I glanced at my watch and saw that it was 5:05. Who would be calling on me at this time of day?

  The man standing at my front door was a complete stranger. I considered myself of average female height at 5’5”, but I had to crane my head upwards to see his face. He must have been 6’4”, and lean. He wore a tailored black suit, grey shirt, and a silver and blue-striped silk tie. He was young – maybe thirty – and clean-shaven with close-cropped, blond hair.

  “Anna Nolan?” he asked, and I nodded. I wondered who he could be. He was too expensively dressed to be a door-to-door evangelist.

  He held some ID up before my eyes. “I’m Sergeant Charles Tremaine of the RCMP. I’ve been asked to lead the investigation into your ex-husband’s death. There are a few questions I’d like to ask. May I come in?”

  I stared at the picture on his ID and raised my gaze to his face. His cool grey eyes looked back at me. “Where’s Steve Walker?” I asked. “I thought that he was the officer conducting the investigation?”

  “Constable Walker has been assigned to another case. I work with a national criminal unit that investigates homicides throughout western Canada.” He paused, and waited for me to respond. In the ensuing silence, I realized that Wendy was barking at the deck door. She must have heard the doorbell ring and got excited. She didn’t like it when people came into the house while she was stranded outside.

  “Yes, of course, come in. Please take a seat in the living room. I just have to let my dog back in.”

  Sergeant Tremaine followed me into the house and stayed in the living room while I opened the kitchen slider for Wendy. She went bounding past me headed straight for the living room. Not wanting the officer in charge of my ex-husband’s murder investigation to be molested by my dog, I rushed into
the living room, just in time to see her sniffing Tremaine’s outstretched hand. He squatted down to scratch behind her ear, and she sat at his feet.

  “I see you’ve made a friend,” I said. He rose and pushed his hands into his trouser pockets. “Her name is Wendy,” I said, attempting to be pleasant.

  “Hello Wendy,” he said solemnly before looking back at me.

  “Please, have a seat,” I repeated. He extended a hand toward the couch and waited for me to sit before taking an armchair. He might be stiff, but he had good manners. “I can tell that you’re not from around here,” I said, making nervous conversation. Tremaine spoke with a rather posh British accent.

  “No,” he replied. “Mrs. Nolan, I understand from Constable Walker that it had been a number of years since you last spoke with your ex-husband.”

  “Four. Why was Steve Walker assigned to another investigation?”

  “Constable Walker was re-assigned because your friendship constituted a conflict of interest. Why do you insist that you hadn’t spoken with Mr. Nolan for four years when his cell phone showed that he called you on the night of his murder?”

  “I don’t know why Jack called me that night, but as you must know, I was at a book club meeting when he called. I didn’t speak to Jack, and since he was already dead when I found him, I have no idea what he wanted. If Steve was removed from the case, why wasn’t Eddy Mason from the local station assigned in his place?”

  Tremaine considered me for a moment, and I followed his glance down to my stockinged feet. I felt at a disadvantage beside this elegant man. “Mrs. Nolan,” he said, but I interrupted him before he could continue.

  “Please don’t call me ‘Mrs. Nolan,’ Sergeant. I kept the ‘Nolan’ because I’ve always hated my maiden name, but ‘Mrs. Nolan’ makes it sound as if I’m still married to Jack. Please, just call me Anna.”

  “What was your maiden name?” he asked.

  “Butcher,” I said, colouring. The name sounded obscene given the circumstances.

  “I see,” he said, unfazed. “Anna, this is a small town. All the officers in the detachment know you. Some of them eat at The Diner with you. Staff Sergeant Mason is concerned about bias, particularly with the victim being an actor in a high-profile film. There’s been national press coverage of his death. It was prudent to bring in someone from a major criminal unit with no ties to the investigation’s chief suspect. I normally work homicide investigations, so that’s why I was chosen.”

  My mind froze at the words “chief suspect.” I couldn’t believe it. I knew that I was a suspect, but “chief” made it sound so hopeless. I slumped back onto the couch. “I’m the chief suspect?” I squeaked. His gaze was beginning to unnerve me, so I looked away.

  “Are you aware that you are the sole beneficiary of a $300,000 life insurance policy on Jack Nolan’s life?”

  “Whaat?” I said. “Jack had a $300,000 life insurance policy?”

  “That’s right. I’ve discussed your financial situation with your bank manager. I know that $300,000 would pay off your mortgage and the balance on your credit card with money to spare.”

  “It’s not such a big balance,” I said. “Wait a minute – are you allowed to talk to my bank manager?”

  “This is a homicide investigation.”

  “Please, wait just a minute. Let me think.” Information was coming at me too fast and I was getting confused. “I remember that Jack and I took out life insurance policies when Ben was born so that we could take care of him if anything happened to either one of us. Jack must have kept his up all these years.”

  “Why would he do that? And why would Mr. Nolan retain you as his beneficiary after your divorce? Why not change it over to your son, for instance?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he felt he owed me. Jack never did pay me any child support.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Steve Walker about the insurance policy?”

  “Because I forgot about it. Jack took it out a long time ago. How was I to know that he kept up the payments?” I got up from the couch to pace around the room. Tremaine rose from his chair, and Wendy stood up, too.

  He raised one hand. “Look, I just arrived yesterday. I’ve read the constable’s preliminary notes and your statement. The test results from the crime scene haven’t come back yet. I have a lot of people to question, particularly the people on the film set in Longview. I will be investigating you, including interviewing people who know you. Is there anything you want to tell me about Mr. Nolan’s death before I do that, anything you haven’t mentioned already?”

  I shook my head, frowning.

  He removed a card from his jacket pocket. “I’ll be in touch. Please don’t go anywhere so that you’re available for questioning. If you do remember anything pertinent to the case, please ring me at the number on this card.” I took it from him wordlessly, panic driving coherent speech from my mind.

  He looked at me for a long moment. “That’s all for now. I’ll let myself out, Anna. Good night.” He reached down to pat Wendy’s head and left the room. I heard the front door open and close behind him.

  Sinking back down on the couch, I felt as if I had been released from the hypnotic gaze of a cobra. “Oh crap,” I said, “what am I going to do now?”

  Wendy pushed her head into my lap and stared at me with her big, brown eyes. I thought that it was empathy until I realized it was supper time.

  “Sorry, I forgot to feed you,” I said. “Let’s go get your food.” Her head bounced up and her tail started thumping. Life was so simple for dogs.

  As she gobbled down her meal, I decided to buy my supper at The Diner. I sure didn’t feel like cooking after that last bombshell, and there wouldn’t be many people there on a Monday night. I changed into jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, and walked over to the restaurant.

  When I got in the door, I looked around the place in surprise; I couldn’t believe how crowded the restaurant was. And, wonder of wonders, Frank was sitting at one of the tables surrounded by a bunch of his regulars. I had never seen him at a table before. Mary bustled by with four plates of food balanced in her hands. I heard the bell ring on the kitchen pass-through and glanced over. Judy was working in the kitchen and it wasn’t even a Saturday. Mary breezed by again, and then turned back to me.

  “You better order tonight’s special and go find a seat at Frank’s table while there’s still room, Anna. Half the town’s here.”

  I followed her to the counter, where she was gathering up dirty dishes. “What’s going on?”

  “Everyone wants to hear what Frank has to say about Henry’s accident. Tonight’s special is beef stew and biscuits with a side salad. Frank’s got two big pots of stew simmering on the stove, so all Judy has to do is dish it up.”

  “Sounds great – I’ll have that, please. And bring me a glass of the usual, would you?”

  “You got it,” she called over her shoulder as she picked up the next orders and headed to one of the tables.

  I threaded my way through the crowd to Frank’s table, where he beckoned for me to join them. Erna Dombrosky, my friend from the book club, sat beside him, her bright, intelligent eyes observing everything. Steve sat at the end of the table in his police uniform – he must have just come off shift – and nodded at me as I sat down. I gave him a significant look that meant, “We’ll talk later.” I wanted to find out whatever he knew about Sergeant Tremaine. My neighbours Jeff and Betty were there, as was Mr. Andrews, slowly turning the pages of the Foothills Gazette and ignoring everyone. Just as I sat down, he pointed a knotty finger at a picture and said, “Where’d they get that picture of you, Frank? You look pretty shifty.”

  Frank half-rose to get a better look at the paper over Betty’s shoulder. “Ha, that’s a picture of me making the financial report at the Rotary Club’s annual meeting. You’re just not used to seeing me with my reading glasses.”

  Betty peered at the picture, her pretty, plump face dimpling. “I think it’s the suit and tie. Makes
you look like a lawyer.” Everyone laughed, and Frank grinned good-naturedly.

  “Hey, Anna, how’s it going?” he asked, turning to me as he sat back down. “You’re not the only celebrity in town now. I bet the guys at the station are happy to have something more exciting to do than passing out speeding tickets for a change.” This was directed at Steve, who tilted back in his chair with a cup of coffee.

  “If you’re nice to me, Frank, I’ll see that you and Anna get adjoining cells when they arrest the two of you.”

  “Hey!” I protested, just as Mary set my juice and plate of food down. She handed me a napkin with cutlery rolled up inside. “Thanks, Mary. That smells awfully good,” I said. My rumbling stomach made me realize how hungry I was.

  “Let me know what you think of it, Anna – I added cumin to the recipe,” Frank requested.

  I took a bite of the fragrant beef and potato, and chewed. “Mmm, it’s delicious. I think I like this better than your burgundy wine stew. The pearl onions are a nice touch, too.”

  Frank smiled. “Thanks.”

  Betty leaned forward in her chair, brandishing a knife as she buttered her biscuit. “Anna, Steve was just telling us about Henry Fellows.”

  “Yeah, what’s the news, Steve?” Jeff asked. He was blond, like his wife, and stocky.

  “He was released from the Foothills Hospital at noon today,” Steve reported. “One of the guys went over to his house this afternoon to ask him some questions. He said that Henry has a few bruises and a limp, but seemed fine, otherwise.”

  “What about this nonsense that Frank drove into his restaurant?” I asked.

  “Well, Henry’s not pressing any charges. That’s about all I can say for now.”

  Erna piped up, “Did anyone point out that Frank doesn’t own a pick-up truck, Steve? How could Frank have done that kind of damage to Henry’s wall with his Corolla? Which doesn’t have a scratch on it, from what I saw on my way in just now.”

  Frank looked at Erna with mock alarm in his eyes. “Erna, are you checking up on me?”

  Erna laughed and patted his arm with her small hand. She was a tiny bird of a woman, a retired high school teacher. “Of course not, but your car is always parked out front of the restaurant, and anyone can see that it hasn’t been in an accident. Unless you stole a truck to do the damage, and then abandoned it.”

  “Hmm,” Steve said, “that’s a good theory, Mrs. Dombrosky.”

  “Now, Erna, don’t go giving the police any bright ideas,” Frank said.

  Erna winked. “Maybe the police should put me on their payroll. I don’t miss much, and it would surely help stretch my pension.”

  “Don’t even think about it, Steve. That woman knows too much,” Frank replied. Everyone laughed. Erna had lived in Crane all her life and was said to know where the skeletons were buried.

  During a lull in the conversation, I asked, “So, has anyone met Sergeant Tremaine yet?” Steve regarded me steadily while heads swivelled in my direction.

  “Who’s that?” Betty asked.

  “He’s a special RCMP investigator who’s leading my ex-husband’s case. He came over to my house half an hour ago to ask me some questions.”

  “Yeah, he dropped by the restaurant after lunch today to have a cup of coffee,” Frank said. “He asked some questions about the people here in town. He’s not your typical officer, is he, Steve? He seemed a little – reserved.” Everyone turned to look at the young constable, who shrugged.

  “He’s one of the bright boys with the criminal unit who gets loaned out from time to time. His last assignment was a big homicide case in Vancouver. You remember those two teenage boys they found in the dumpster?”

  Betty screwed up her face. “Oh, that was a nasty one. He was involved with that?” Steve nodded.

  “So, what’s he doing in Crane?” Frank asked.

  “It’s standard procedure to send someone from one of these special investigative units when there’s a homicide in a small community, especially when the victim isn’t local. Guess they think it’s a good learning opportunity for us small-town cops. I haven’t had a chance to talk to him yet myself. What did you make of him, Anna?”

  “Oh, he’s pretty impressive. I wonder how he ended up in Canada. He sounds like a Brit.”

  “Yeah, he’s originally from England. Got a university education over there before doing his police training here. That’s all I know about him.”

  “It doesn’t look as though he dresses on a cop’s salary,” I added.

  “No, it sure doesn’t,” Steve agreed.

  “Anyway, if he talks to any of you about me, please put in a good word. It looks like he thinks I’m the prime suspect.” I laughed shakily while everyone stared at me. “That’s right. Sergeant Tremaine just told me that I am the beneficiary of a $300,000 life insurance policy on Jack’s life. It’s probably the same one Jack took out when Ben was born, and he kept me as the beneficiary all these years. I didn’t even know about it until the sergeant told me today. It gives me a nice, shiny motive for wanting to kill Jack, as if finding his body wasn’t enough to make me look guilty.”

  The news was greeted with silence. My friends either looked at each other or at the table top, anywhere but at me. All but Mr. Andrews, who continued to flip through the newspaper pages and ignore us. I noticed that he had worked his way up to the Classifieds. Erna reached over to pat my arm.

  “Don’t you worry, dear. Everyone knows that you’re innocent. You just go home and have a stiff drink and a good night’s sleep. Things will look better in the morning.” She smiled, and I smiled back at her.

  “That’s good advice, Erna. Has anyone else got advice for me?”

  Steve looked straight into my eyes from across the table. “Just don’t lie to him, Anna. From what I’ve heard, he’s pretty smart. Always tell him the truth, no matter how bad you think it makes you look.”

  I gulped, nodded, and ate my dinner. Once I got home, I remembered Erna’s advice about having a stiff drink. I wasn’t much of a drinker and was saving an unopened bottle of wine for company, so I had to settle for an extra chocolaty hot chocolate before going to bed.