Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery) (20 page)

I drove over to the church and parked on the street half an hour before the funeral.
Ferguson’s hearse was already parked out front. The neighbourhood was quiet; no one was out for a walk at 9:30 in the morning. St. Bernadette’s Elementary School was located right across the street. The playground was always lively before and after school and at break times, but the children were all inside at their lessons. It was an overcast day, and I felt cheerless as I pulled open the church’s back door and let myself in.

Father Winfield, dressed in a black robe with a purple stole, was standing beside the front pew talking with a man I didn’t recognize.
There was a tall wooden stand draped in white linen in the aisle beside him. The stranger, wearing a proper grey suit, held a brass urn in his arms. He had to be from the funeral parlour. Both men turned to look at me as I walked up the aisle.

“Anna, how are you this morning?” Father Winfield asked, laying a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“I’m fine, thank you, Father.”

“Let me introduce you to Ferguson’s funeral director, Mr. Albert Ferguson.”

Mr. Ferguson placed the urn upon the stand and turned to take both my hands. “How do you do, Mrs. Nolan. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said in a well-modulated voice.

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ferguson, and thank you for looking after Jack.”

He patted my hand. “You’re very welcome, Mrs. Nolan. I hope that you’re happy with my choice of urn for your husband’s remains?”

I looked down at it and had the crazy notion that if I rubbed it three times, Jack might pop out of it like a genie.
Death can have a strange effect on people. “Yes, it’s very . . . handsome.”

He released my hand.
“Since we will not be progressing to the cemetery after the service, I will remove the urn and take it back with me. Tomorrow I will send the deceased’s ashes to the funeral home you specified in Ontario.”

“Thank you.
Jack’s mother and I appreciate that.”

“You’re most welcome.”

I glanced up to the altar stairs and saw a beautiful spray of spring flowers in a tall white vase placed beside my arrangement.
“How beautiful. I wonder who sent them?” I asked.

“They were delivered half an hour ago.
The card that came with them says that the flowers are sent with the best wishes of Chinook University’s Kinesiology Department,” Father Winfield replied.

I was touched.
I was usually the person who arranged for the delivery of flowers and sympathy cards on behalf of the department. Magdalena must have sent these.

“Would you like to take the flowers home with you after the service?” Father Winfield asked.

“Oh no, you keep them for the church please, Father.”

Two giggly pre-pubescent girls burst from the sacristy door out onto the altar.
Father Winfield waved at them before turning back to me.

“Please excuse me, Anna – the altar servers are here from the grade school.
Good morning, Sherry and Jessica. Thank you for volunteering to assist us today. Please go get yourselves ready.” The three disappeared back into the sacristy, Father Winfield herding the girls before him.

“I’ll let you have a few moments to yourself before your guests arrive, Mrs. Nolan,” said Mr. Ferguson, nodding and retreating down the aisle.

I turned back to the urn to take a closer look. Jack’s name and his birth and death dates were inscribed on it in a fine script.

“Well, here we are, Jack,” I whispered, laying my hand on the sealed lid.
“Neither of us saw this coming, did we? Funny how things turned out. We were so crazy in love when we got married, so thrilled the day Ben was born, but it all ended in divorce. And then someone took your life.” I paused, my eyes getting filmy. “We haven’t figured out who did it yet, but we will, and we’ll bring your killer to justice. Maybe you don’t even care about that, wherever you are right now. Anyway, have a safe trip back to Ontario to your mother, and rest in peace. Hey, if you make it to heaven, say hello to my mother for me, will you?” I patted the jar and smiled.

The door opened at the back of the church and I turned to see who was coming in.
May and Erna came down the aisle, Erna’s hand tucked into May’s arm, with Betty following behind them. I hurried forward to greet them.

“I didn’t expect to see you here this morning,” I said, delighted that they had come.

“Well, of course, doll,” May replied. “Couldn’t let you handle this all on your own. My son is looking after the store this morning.”

Betty leaned in.
“Sorry that Jeff couldn’t be here, Anna. He had an emergency auger first thing this morning, but he said to tell you that he’s thinking of you.”

I gave her a hug.
“That’s okay, Betty. Thanks for coming, and tell Jeff I said thanks, too.”

Erna said, “Shall we take our places?”
I nodded and the four of us sat down together in the front pew. We chatted quietly for a moment, and then I knelt to say a prayer. My heart felt at peace now that I was surrounded by friends.

I heard the door open and close again, and Frank, Judy, and Mary came in together.
Frank had on a brown tweed sports coat over his white shirt and jeans, and Judy wore a forest green silk blouse with black tailored trousers. Even Mary had on a sedate navy blue skirt that reached all the way to her knees. The women eased into the pew behind us as Frank stopped to grip my shoulder. I looked up into his face.

“Thanks for coming, Frank.
You must have closed The Diner for this,” I said, covering his hand with mine.

“No problem, Anna.
We’re sorry for your loss,” he said gruffly. I turned and smiled at Judy and Mary.

The organist arrived and began playing generic classical musical. The interior lights flipped on.
We sat together in silent contemplation, Erna patting my arm from time to time. The door opened again and I heard Clive Wampole shout, “See Mr. Andrews, we made it with time to spare!”

I looked over my shoulder and saw Clive, wearing a brown suit and muddy boots, and Mr. Andrews, also in a suit, hurrying up the aisle.
They both nodded to me and I smiled and waved.

“Shove over, Frank,” Clive said, and the new-comers joined the group from the restaurant.

The organist stopped playing, flipped through a few pages, and began the first hymn. We stood and watched the two young alter-servers process up the aisle, looking angelic in white surplices over black robes. Father Winfield followed, swinging an orb before him that wafted incense. They passed our pew and paused to intone a prayer over Jack’s ashes. As they climbed onto the altar, Ben suddenly appeared in the aisle beside me. He was wearing his only suit, a charcoal grey, with a white shirt. He bent to kiss my cheek and I gave him a quick hug, beaming up into his face. The ladies and I moved over to make room for him, and Ben genuflected and took his place beside me. He reached for my hand, and we turned to listen to the service.

When the congregation joined together in prayer, Ben leaned over to whisper, “Did you notice Tremaine?
He’s sitting in the back.”

I looked over my shoulder to see Tremaine standing alone in a back pew.
His eyes met mine and he nodded. I nodded back at him and smiled. Our relationship had had its rocky moments, but I appreciated his kindness in coming today.

“I suppose he’s here to see if the murderer is at the funeral,” Ben whispered.
I rolled my eyes and poked him discreetly in the side.

Father Winfield mostly spoke about forgiveness and redemption in his sermon, although he did talk about Jack a little, describing him as a loving husband and father.
I glanced at Ben, who kept his eyes focussed forward and his face blank. The funeral service came to an end and we sang the final hymn. Mr. Ferguson came forward to carry out the ashes with Father Winfield joining in behind him, followed by the altar-servers. Ben and I filed out of our pew with the rest of the mourners following us. I looked for Tremaine the back of the church, but he had already slipped out. We walked through the lobby and out the back door, pausing in the grey morning light at the top of the stairs. I thanked Mr. Ferguson and Father Winfield for their services, and we all watched silently as the funeral director placed the urn into the hearse and drove away.

I sidled over to Frank.
“Frank,” I whispered, “I’d like to take us all out for an early lunch at The Diner. Is that okay with you?”

“No problem, Anna.
We can handle that.”

“Thank you.”
I turned to my friends and smiled. “You’re all wonderful for coming to be with Ben and me this morning. It’s good to be surrounded by friends at a time like this.” People nodded or ducked their heads and smiled. “Please join us for lunch us at The Diner.”

Everyone thought that would be very nice, so, after sorting out our cars, we formed a procession and drove the short distance to Main Street with Clive and his tractor bringing up the rear.
As we cruised along at about twenty kilometres an hour, Ben in his car behind me, I thought myself lucky to have found this small town and all of these dear friends. I felt very happy on what had promised to be a sad and lonely morning.

Chapter Eighteen

Ben and I lingered at the restaurant after everyone else had left until Frank had to close up at 2:00.
During our conversation, my son reminded me that the only other funeral he had ever attended had been my mother’s, who had died of a stroke when he was six. Ben and I had flown back to Ontario for the funeral, and while his memories of the flight and the airport were still quite clear, he had very little recollection of the service. Unfortunately, Ben’s memories of his grandfather were equally sketchy, since he hadn’t seen him since Mom’s funeral. Dad remarried two years after Mom passed, and became very attached to his new wife’s children and grandchildren. We ended up drifting even further apart than we had been when I left home to become an actress. Now I only heard from Dad when I called to wish him happy birthday or received a Christmas newsletter from his wife.

I told Ben that I was planning to pay for his university education when I received the money from his father’s insurance policy.
“I’m sure that your father would have approved if he had known,” I said.

Ben said, “Let’s talk about it later, Mom.
I really don’t want to talk about Dad today,” so I let the subject drop. I hadn’t heard what was going on about Ben’s alibi, however, so I asked if he had seen or heard anything from Tremaine.

“Yeah, I gave him some more information about what I did before I met Tracy on the night Dad died,” he said.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I went back to the drugstore a couple of times until I spotted the cashier who had waited on me.
I got her name and asked her to give Tremaine a call.”

“That’s terrific, honey.
Did Tremaine seem satisfied with that?”

Ben shrugged and said, “Who knows?”
I groaned and rolled my eyes. “What? What else do you want from me?” Ben said, gesturing with both hands.

“Nothing, Ben.
I’m just pleased that you’re sorting it out. Tremaine will take it from there,” I said, forcing a smile. I didn’t want to argue with him today, but I wished that Ben would take his alibi as seriously as I did. Instead of harping on the subject, however, I kissed him goodbye before he headed back to work in Calgary. His boss had told him to take all the time he needed for the funeral, but Ben didn’t want to abuse his boss’ good will by staying away for too long. It rained for the rest of the afternoon, and I spent the time reading one of my well-loved Miss Marple mysteries and making a pot of beef vegetable soup for supper.

I went back to work the next day, and life returned to normal. The funeral had provided some sort of closure, and I was having second thoughts about continuing my efforts to find Jack’s killer.
I sure didn’t want my clumsy interference to screw up the police investigation. But I had already set up the film set visit with Amy, so I decided to go through with it. Amy had told me that they would be filming a big action scene with lots of extras on Thursday night, so if nothing else, it would be entertaining to watch. Besides, I had to admit that I was curious to have a look at the woman who had finally broken up my marriage.

I got home from work at 5:00 and scrambled to get ready in time so that I wouldn’t make Amy late.
When her car pulled up out front at 6:00, I was outside waiting on the porch. It was a warmish evening, and I had changed into jeans and a sleeveless blue plaid shirt. Climbing into the car, I greeted her with a cheery hello, but received only a stiff nod in return. Obviously, Amy didn’t approve of my visit to the film set tonight. I noticed that her beautiful red hair was braided and woven into a bun.

“Is that for the movie?” I asked, pointing at her hair.

“Uh huh. The hair and make-up people let me do my own hair since I’m a professional. It saves time for all of us.”

“It looks really pretty on you.”

Her face softened and she smiled at me. “Thanks.”