Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery) (12 page)

“The Spur, eh?
Alright, why don’t I pick you up around 8:30 tomorrow night and we’ll drive over to the Spur to see if Karen is there. Are you free?” I asked.

“Sure, Anna – I don’t make appointments for Friday nights.
What do you think we should wear?”

“Oh, I guess I’ll dust off my Stetson and chaps.”

“Really? You have chaps?”

“No, Amy, I’m just kidding.
I’ll probably wear jeans and boots. We’ll want to blend in with the Friday night crowd.”

“Okay, I’ll wear the same thing.
This is so exciting. I’m really looking forward to it. We’ll be just like the women cops on that old TV show, Cagney and Lacy.”

“You bet, Amy,” I said, smiling at her enthusiasm.

Chapter Twelve

I was sitting at my desk the next morning when the telephone rang.

“Kinesiology Department, Anna Nolan,” I chirped.

“Hi, Anna, it’s Charles Tremaine.”

I hadn’t expected to hear his voice and was silent for a moment.
“Are you there, Anna?” he asked.

“Yes.
Hi Sergeant,” I said.

“I have a message for you from the coroner’s office.
They said they’re ready to release your ex-husband’s body to you.”

“Oh,” was all I could say.
I had given some thought to funeral arrangements after I had discovered Jack’s body, but it had been driven right out of my mind by everything that had happened since then. Jack’s father was gone and his mother was back in Ontario in a seniors’ assisted-living facility. Aside from her, Jack had no close family other than Ben and me.

“Normally a funeral parlour would take care of this for you, Anna.
Have you contacted anyone?”

“Actually, Sergeant, I haven’t.
I know that I should have taken care of this already, but I guess I dropped the ball.”

“Don’t worry about it.
I talked with some of the constables before I called you, and they recommended Fergusons in southern Calgary. Do you know them?”

“Yes, I’ve been to one of their services.
They’re fine. Sorry, let me give them a call and I’ll take care of it.”

Tremaine had their phone number ready and gave it to me.
“Will you be holding a church service, Anna?” he asked.

“Yes, I’d like to have a funeral at St. Bernadette’s in Crane, but I haven’t spoken to Father Winfield yet.
Jack has a mother whose health isn’t very good. I thought about having Jack cremated and flying his ashes back to Ontario so that she can bury him in the family plot.”

“Sounds like a good plan, Anna.
It’s kind of you. Not everyone in your shoes would bother to do it.”

“There’s no one else to do it, Sergeant, but thank you.
Alright, I’ll make a call and take care of it. Thanks for your help, Tremaine. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Anna.
Bye.”

“Bye.”
I hung up the phone and mused about the sergeant for a moment. He had been very considerate on the phone just now. Was he a nice guy underneath that cool exterior, or was he after something? I tucked that thought away while I looked up Jack’s mother in my address book. Carlene had always been kind to me, and I still sent her birthday and Christmas cards every year. I had broken the news of Jack’s death to her on the phone a few days ago, and it had been a heart-wrenching experience. She had cried and said that she couldn’t understand why anyone would murder her son and then dump his body alongside the road, of all places, and I was unable to comfort her with a reasonable explanation. She was calmer when I phoned her today, and grateful that I was sending her son’s ashes home. I felt very sad saying goodbye to this poor woman who had lost both her husband and her son in the course of her lifetime.

I made two more calls: first to Fergusons to arrange for the cremation, and then to Father Winfield about the mass.
I hadn’t talked to him about Jack’s death yet, although I assumed he knew about it. He told me that he could perform the funeral the following Tuesday.

“The sermon will be a bit sparse, Anna.
I met your ex-husband when you and your family first moved to Crane, but I didn’t see much of him after that.”

“No, he wasn’t much of a church-goer, Father.
I don’t expect you to say very much about him under the circumstances.”

“Don’t worry, Anna – I have a stock sermon for this kind of situation.
Ben will be coming, I assume?”

“I sure hope so, Father.
He was pretty upset with his father before Jack died, so I’m not sure he’ll want to attend the funeral.”

“That’s unfortunate, and hard on you.
I hope to have a chance to talk with Ben after mass, if he comes. Will anyone else be attending, do you think?”

“Well, Father, there really isn’t anyone else.
I don’t want to invite the people from the movie set. They didn’t work with Jack for very long, and I don’t want them to come out of a sense of obligation. Jack’s mother isn’t well enough to travel, and he has no other family. The people here in Crane didn’t really know Jack, either. It might be just you and me, Father, unless Ben decides to come. I’m sorry to ask you to do this for just me, but I want to have a mass said for Jack. It wouldn’t be right to cremate him without praying over him. I hope you understand, Father.”

“I understand and I totally agree with you, Anna.
Remember the parable of the shepherd who leaves his flock to go in search of a single lamb? Each of us is important in God’s eyes.”

“Thanks for understanding, Father.
I’ll have Ferguson’s contact you about Jack’s ashes, and I’ll see you on Tuesday at 10 AM.”

Ben came for supper that Friday night, as usual.
I had stopped at an Indian restaurant for take-out curry before leaving Calgary, so it took me a little longer to get home. Ben was already there when I came in the door, playing with Wendy in the backyard.

“Hi honey, how are you?” I called, opening the sliding door onto the deck.
Ben tossed a rubber ball to Wendy and turned to look at me. He seemed relaxed and in a good mood.

“I’m starving, Mom.
What’s for supper?”

“Indian tonight, plus I’ve got some peanut-butter cup ice cream in the freezer for dessert.”

“Great, my favourite. We’ll be right in. Come on, Wendy.”

“You feed her and I’ll set the table.”

We both avoided the subject of the murder while we ate dinner, and I didn’t mention the funeral until after dessert. Ben stared down at the table as I gave him the details, not saying a word until I was through.

“I know where this is going, Mom.”

“Where, honey?”

“You’re going to ask me to come to the funeral.”

“I’d appreciate it if you thought you could.” Ben didn’t say anything, and I sighed. “I know how you feel about your father, Ben, and how his murder must complicate things.”

“You’d be wrong about that, Mom.
Just because he got himself killed didn’t make him a better father.”

“No, Ben, it didn’t.
And I know that it was really hard all those years that he wasn’t there for you. I’m not going to give you a sermon on how much he really loved you, but I’m hoping that one day you’ll begin to remember the good times you had with your dad. Like the time he took you camping, or your sixth birthday party when he got your TV hero, Captain Eddy, to stop by. How about if I play the guilt card and ask you to come so that it won’t be just Father Winfield and me at the funeral? He wants to talk to you, by the way.”

Ben sighed.
“Oh great – pastoral counselling.”

“Yes.
Anyway, give it some thought, and I guess if I see you at the funeral, I’ll see you.”

“I’ll think about it, Mom, but I’m not promising anything.”

“Fair enough, honey. So, did you see your new girlfriend this week?” He rolled his eyes, and we went back to chatting about less controversial subjects.

Chapter Thirteen

Ben left at 8:15 for a date with his girlfriend back to Calgary.
I picked up Amy a few minutes later and we drove to Longview, arriving at the Spur by a quarter to 9:00. All of the parking spots were taken in front of the bar, so we were forced to park a little way down the street.

Amy and I strode down the sidewalk beneath a purple-tinged sky, the clamour of people having a good time spilling out of the bar up ahead.
We climbed the two steps onto the split-rail porch and pushed through the swinging doors, pausing to take a look around. The place was packed and all of the tables were full. There were small brass lamps sitting on the wooden tables, and the flickering light cast a warm, honey glow over the scene.

Amy grabbed my arm.
“There she is, sitting by herself at a table for two,” she said, nodding toward the actress. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

We had discussed the best way to approach Karen on the drive over, and decided that we should play up our common bond with Jack.
He had been gone for a week, now, and if Karen was feeling sentimental, she might enjoy an opportunity to reminisce with us.

Amy halted beside Karen’s table and beamed down at her.
“Hi Karen, remember me? I’m Amy Bright, one of the extras on the movie. I was in the bank robbery scene they shot yesterday.”

Karen squinted up at her, silky blond hair skimming her shoulders.
“Oh, right – I remember you. You were ‘frightened mother with little boy’ who got shoved out of the way by the gunman. How’s it going, Amy?”

“Just great, thanks.
This is a friend of mine, Anna Nolan. Her name might sound familiar to you. She’s Jack Nolan’s widow. She was feeling kind of blue tonight, what with Jack gone such a short time and all, so I invited her out for a drink. The tables are pretty full – do you mind if we join you?”

Karen eyed my face for a moment.
We had met at a cast party years ago, but I doubted that she remembered me. She had taken good care of herself, I noticed, although there was a certain hardness around her eyes that hadn’t been there before. She was an attractive woman, and I wondered why she was sitting alone.

“Sure, pull up a chair.
My husband, Connie, is out back shooting pool with some of the guys. I’ve been saving a seat for him, but it doesn’t look like he’ll be back anytime soon.”

I nodded my thanks, borrowed a chair from the table behind me, and sat down with Karen and Amy.

“So, you’re Jack Nolan’s widow?” Karen asked.

“Not exactly.
Jack and I divorced four years ago.”

“That’s what I thought.
Jack told me that he was divorced.”

I studied her, wondering how she meant that comment, and in the ensuing silence a waiter hustled over to our table.
He was young, maybe a little older than Ben, and wore the bar uniform: a white shirt with garters to hold back his sleeves, black pants, and a full-length white apron. His hair was parted straight down the middle and slicked back. The waiters’ costumes were less revealing than the waitresses’, who wore low-cut, off the shoulder gingham blouses, flounced short skirts, and frilly aprons.

“Welcome to the Silver Spur.
What can I get you, little ladies?” he asked.

Amy studied him with delight, as if she were just about ready to gobble him up.
Apparently young men were fair game for her. “Well, look at you. Don’t you look handsome in your costume. Doesn’t he look adorable, Anna?”

I smiled at the young man, who was entranced by Amy’s cleavage and didn’t bother to look my way.
“Very handsome,” I answered.

“I hear that you have a special ladies’ drink at the Spur – what’s it called?” Amy asked.

“ It’s called a ‘Lady Killer,’ ma’am,” he replied with a grin.

“That sounds like fun.
I’ll have one of those, please. What are you going to have, Anna?”

“I’ll have a white wine spritzer and maybe some chicken wings, if you’ve got them.”

The waiter dragged his eyes away from Amy. “Sure do, ma’am. We have mild, medium, hot, and ‘Somebody grab a bucket of water – my mouth is on fire!’ zesty,” he drawled. “What would you like, little lady?”

I appreciated his effort to stay in character.
“We’ll have two pounds of the medium wings for the table. Thanks.”

The waiter left, and Amy began chatting about the movie.
Karen wasn’t paying much attention to us, her chin cradled in her hand and her eyes gazing about the room. I decided that it was time to engage our leading lady in conversation.

“Karen, you look very familiar to me,” I said with a fake frown.
“I’m sure Jack introduced us at a cast party for A Christmas Carol a few years back. Didn’t you play the Ghost of Christmas Past in that?”

Karen’s eyes swivelled back to me.
“That’s right. Boy, that seems like ages ago. I wasn’t even married then.”