Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery) (16 page)

“Amy!” I said in a sharp whisper.
She started and looked around the room. “Down here,” I said. She looked down and spotted me on the floor. Her eyes grew huge.

“Anna!” she squeaked before clapping her hand over her mouth.
Connie and Karen were still clattering around in the bathroom.

“How much was it?” Connie asked.

“Was what?” Karen asked.

“The picture – how much money did you spend?”

“About a thousand,” Karen replied, sounding distracted. “What did you do, fall off a cliff? You’re really banged up.”

“A thousand bucks!
For your sister? Why can’t she buy her own damn picture?”

“Because she wanted a western picture for her family room and they don’t have so many of them in Montreal.”

Amy hurried over to the bed and bent toward me. “What are you doing down there, Anna?” she whispered. “You’ve got to get out of here right now!”

I didn’t say anything, just whipped the gun out of my pocket with a big smile and waved it in her face.
A second later, I wondered if it were loaded.

“Anna!” she squeaked.
We both heard the sound of heels clicking across the bathroom tile, and I jammed the gun into my pocket and dodged back under the bed as Amy whirled around.

“You still here, Amy?” Karen said.
“Sorry, I forgot about you. You better go. I gotta help my clumsy husband get cleaned up and back to work, and then I’ve got some lines to learn.”

“Okay, Karen,” Amy said in an odd, strangled voice.

Karen paused.
“You look kind of funny, Amy. Something wrong?”

“No, no, everything’s fine,” Amy said.

“What’s the matter, you don’t like the sight of blood or something? Or is it Connie in his underwear that’s making you queasy? Not a pretty sight, I know,” she said with a cackle. Boy, that woman had an annoying laugh.

“No, it’s not Connie.
You’re right. I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“Well, thanks for taking me to the market today, Amy.
It was fun.”

“You’re welcome, Karen.
Maybe we can go again sometime.”

“Sure.
Call me. Maybe we’ll go out for a drink together. Bring Anna Nolan, if you like.” I heard a snort from the bathroom. “Shut up, Connie,” Karen yelled.

Amy said, “Sure, Karen, I’d like that.
And I’m so glad we found that picture for your sister. I’m sure she’ll like it, since she likes horses so much. The foal was so cute, and the background was really impressive. The rocks, I mean. With the mother horse standing on the rock, you could almost feel the wind blowing through her hair – I mean her mane.” Amy sounded crazy, and I prayed that she’d get out of the bedroom before she gave me away.

“Karen, come on.
I need you in here,” Connie yelled.

“Keep your pants on.
I’m just saying goodbye to Amy,” Karen replied. I took the opportunity to stick my head out from under the bed and jerk it at Amy. Amy waved her hands in the air and grimaced before Karen turned back again.

“Sorry, Amy, don’t have any more time to stand around and chat.
See you later.”

“Bye, Karen,” Amy said.
There was a short pause, and then she left the room. I heard her walk down the stairs as Karen went back into the bathroom.

“She gone now?” Connie asked.

“Yeah, you can come out,” Karen replied. They came out together, Connie favouring his right leg. Karen said, “You’d better get dressed and go back to work. You said they may need you this afternoon.” I watched Connie’s feet approach the bed until he stopped and turned his heels to face me. I braced myself as he sat down heavily on the bed, the box spring sagging toward my face.

“Help me, Mommy,” he said in a pathetic little boy’s voice.

Karen sighed. “Sheesh, you’re such a baby.” She opened the closet door and I heard the clang of a wire hanger. “Here, put this shirt on,” she said. She must have tossed it to him because I heard her burrowing in the closet again. She walked back to the bed and said, “Here’s some pants.”

After a moment, I heard a slap.
“We don’t have time for that, Con, you’ve got to get back to work,” Karen snapped. I held my breath. I didn’t know what I’d do if Connie and Karen started fooling around on top of the bed.

“You never have time,” Connie complained.

“Oh shut up, you pig, we just made out last night.”

“Yeah,” Connie said in a husky voice, “and you seemed to like it.”
I heard a smack, and Karen squealed.

“You were kinda manly last night, all grabby and take charge,” Karen said, kicking off her shoes.
She sank down on the bed and the box spring brushed against my forehead. Karen giggled and the bed squeaked as their weight shifted. “Who’s my little cuddle bear?” she said in a girlish voice, then shrieked and giggled some more.

The door bell rang.
Hallelujah! Karen and Connie lay still on top of the bed. “Don’t answer it,” Connie said.

They waited.
The doorbell rang again. “I’m going to look out the windows and see who it is,” Karen whispered, and the bed lifted and cleared my face. I heard her pad across the floor to the window. “It’s Amy,” she said after a moment.

“Shit, what’s she doing back here?” Connie said.

“She just looked up and saw me,” Karen said. “I’ve got to go down and see what she wants.” Connie groaned as Karen put on her shoes and walked out of the room. “Get dressed,” she ordered from the hallway.

Connie cursed as he rolled around the bed, putting on his clothes.
A minute later, Karen called from downstairs, “Con, Amy’s got car trouble. Come down and have a look.”

I silently cheered Amy as Connie got off the bed, shoved his feet into a pair of slippers, and left the room.
A couple of minutes later, I heard them talking downstairs. Amy’s voice became high-pitched and insistent, Connie said something in a rumbling voice, the front door opened and shut, and everything was still.

I wiggled out from under the bed, checking that the gun was still in my pocket, and ran down the hallway to the top of the stairs.
Bending in half, I peered through the glass panels on either side of the front door. The hood of Amy’s car was raised and Connie was leaning into the engine. I heard him shout something, and then the car’s engine roared into life. I sprinted down the stairs and ran for the front closet, all the while listening to Amy talking very loudly over the engine noise. I pulled open the closet door, jumped inside, and slammed it shut just as the front door opened again.

“Stupid broad.
There was nothing wrong with her engine,” Connie muttered as he and Karen stepped inside. A horn tooted, and the car drove away.

“She’s nice, Con – just not too bright,” Karen said.

The door closed and everything was quiet in the hallway. After a minute, Connie said, “What say we go back upstairs, eh pussy cat?” Karen giggled. The two of them headed back down the hallway and climbed the stairs to the second floor. I heard their footsteps overhead, and then nothing. Easing the closet door open, I listened for a moment before slipping out. I tiptoed to the front door and paused. Sometimes the door had a pretty terrible squeak. Maybe I wouldn’t set off the squeak if I didn’t open the door very far?

I managed to open the door about a foot without any sound at all.
Pressing my lips together, I inserted a shoulder into the space and tried to slip through. All went well until I got to my hips. I started inching the door open, squeezing my butt muscles together in hope of making it more compact. I was almost through, just a tiny bit more to go, when the damn door went “squeeeak.” I froze, holding my breath, waiting to hear if anyone noticed. All was well for about three seconds until Connie yelled, “Hey, who’s down there?”

That was enough for me.
I threw the door open and bolted for the trees alongside the house. I knew that Karen and Connie had an excellent view of the front parking area from their bedroom windows, and I didn’t want them to see me running down the driveway. Once in the trees, I skidded on some damp leaves, grabbed hold of a branch to steady myself, and kept on running. My pant leg caught on a twig and I had to rip a hole in it to free myself, but I didn’t care. I was in full flight mode. I saw the bend in the driveway up ahead and burst out of the trees, running through the gravel. I spotted Amy’s car parked at the bottom of the drive. She was standing beside it with the driver’s door open. She jumped up and down as she saw me. My breath was rasping in my throat and I had a stitch in my side. She ran the rest of the way to meet me and gave me a big hug.

“I just about had a stroke when I saw you under that bed, Anna Nolan,” she cried, giving me a shake.
Without waiting for a response, Amy grabbed me by the arm and pushed me into the car before darting around to the driver’s side and jumping in. She started up the car, spun her tires in the gravel, and skidded out onto the street without bothering to check for traffic. I slammed into the passenger door because I hadn’t managed to put on my seat belt yet. Fortunately, there wasn’t any oncoming traffic.

“Take it easy, Amy.
Try not to kill us,” I complained, clicking my seat belt in place. I glanced over at her just in time to see a tear slide down her cheek.

“Amy, I am so sorry,” I said, feeling terrible.
Her bottom lip started quivering. “Ah, Amy, please don’t be upset,” I said. “It’s all over now, and no one got caught. You were so fantastic, coming up with an excuse to get Connie and Karen out of the house. I hid in the front hall closet until they went back upstairs, and then I snuck out. We did it. And, guess what? I think I may have found the murder weapon.” I took the gun out of my pocket to show it to her again.

“Anna, put that away,” Amy shrieked.
“I hate guns.”

“Okay, no problem.
I’m sorry,” I apologized, shoving it back into my pocket. Only then did it occur to me that I had been handling the gun with my bare hands. I groaned and sank back into my seat, wanting to kick myself for being so stupid. I had panicked when I heard Connie coming down the hallway, and picked up the gun without thinking.

“What’s the matter, Anna?” Amy asked.

“Oh, Amy, I did something really stupid,” I said, glancing out the window.

“Oh
no,” she whispered, turning to look at me with frightened eyes.

“No, nothing that bad.
It’s just that I realized I’ve been holding the gun with my bare hands.”

Amy turned back to the road.
“So, now you’ve got your fingerprints on the gun.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, “and maybe wiped Connie’s off, too.
How could I have been so stupid? Everyone knows not to handle the evidence with your bare hands.”

Amy shrugged.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Anna. You must have been terrified, trapped in the bedroom with Connie. I know I would have been. Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

I stared at Amy.
“What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

“Because there’s no way that Karen or Connie killed Jack.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“Because Karen told me what she and Connie were doing on the night Jack was murdered.
They’ve been having problems, so Karen and Connie started seeing a marriage counsellor. They were with their counsellor in Calgary when Jack was killed.”

“Oh no.
Just wonderful,” I groaned, closing my eyes in exasperation. “I can’t believe it. After all this trouble, there was no reason for me to search their house in the first place. All we had to do was have a heart to heart with Karen, and we would have known that they couldn’t have killed Jack.”

“Yup,” Amy said, still watching the road.
“But now you have Connie’s gun.”

I stared at her, and then reached into my pocket for the gun.
What the hell was I going to do with it? I couldn’t possibly give it to Tremaine now that I’d ruined the fingerprints. I was going to have to get it back to Connie somehow. But how? There was no way I was going to sneak back into their house again to replace it. Maybe I could just leave it on their doorstep in a brown paper bag? My mind reeled. How long would it take before Connie noticed it was missing?

Then a terrible thought occurred to me:
what if Connie had gone for the gun just now when he thought that someone was breaking into the house? What if he had already discovered that it was missing? If that were the case, there was no possibility of returning the gun without his noticing.

I moaned.
“Amy, I am so sorry. This is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t know what got into me. Normally, I’m a pretty cautious person, you know? Well, up until a week ago when Jack got killed. It’s as if Jack’s death released some sort of insanity from deep down within me. Breaking into the Primos’ house, kicking a police sergeant . . . .”

Amy looked at me, her eyebrows lifted.
“You kicked Tremaine?”

“Yeah, never mind about that – that’s the least of my worries.
You have just brought me to my senses, Amy. I promise that I’ll never do anything this crazy again. Look, let me try to make it up to you, okay? Are you hungry? I bet you haven’t had anything since breakfast. Let me buy you lunch when we get back to Crane, okay? We’re almost there now.”