Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery) (26 page)

“Oh dear Lord, please don’t let me fall in the water,” I prayed.
I knew that we would both be goners if I did.

I waded in further, pressing one hand against the second column, until the water was waist deep.
I could feel the river catching at me as it rushed past, and I was desperately glad for the solidity of the concrete buttress beside me. I turned and flattened my back against it, looking toward Tremaine. I screamed his name again and again, but this time his head did not rise from the boulder.

“Come on, come on!” I shouted, frantic that he might be unconscious.
Then I watched as he slipped off the boulder. The current carried him forward, his face in the water. When he was within a few feet of me, I strained forward and snagged him by the shirt collar. The pressure of the racing water almost tore him away, but I dragged him back with all of my strength and clasped him to me. His long body lay draped over mine, his head drooping on my shoulder.

I bent my mouth to his ear.
“Tremaine, can you hear me?” I shouted. He didn’t answer. His eyes were closed. He seemed to be unconscious.

“We’re going to wade ashore now.
Try to walk with me, if you can.”

His body was a dead weight on top of mine as I inched through the water, my back pressed against the second buttress.
I was terrified that I might lose my footing on feet numb with cold. Glancing up, the shore still seemed so far away. How was I going to make it? Then I heard a miracle, a woman’s voice shouting. “I’m coming, I’m coming, hold on, help is on the way.”

I looked over Tremaine’s shoulder and saw a woman running down the shore toward us.
She held a rake in her hand, and her longish skirt flapped open to reveal knee-high rubber boots. I had never seen anyone so beautiful in my life. She ran to the water’s edge and splashed in up to her calves, holding the rake handle out to me.

“Here, take hold of the end.”

I had to edge across the space between the two columns to reach it, the weight of Tremaine’s inert body pressing me down while the water clawed at us.
She took a step in deeper, her flowered skirt floating on the water. I stretched forward and managed to grab the handle.

“Very good, you’ve got it.
Take another step – and another. Come on, nearly there. Got you!”

She grabbed my wrist and dragged me forward.
I tripped on a rock and splashed onto one knee, still clinging to Tremaine. The woman drove the rake handle into the riverbed and grasped the back of my shirt with her free hand. She hauled me to my feet and pulled the two of us into her arms.

“There we are.
I’ve got you now. Let’s get you out of the water,” she panted. We shifted Tremaine’s body between us and staggered out onto the shore. We laid him face-up on the ground, the woman kneeling beside him while I shuddered nearby.

“Is he still b-breathing?” I cried.

She laid her ear to his chest and looked up into his face.
Watching him for a few long seconds, she tilted his head back, pinched his nostrils shut, covered his mouth with her own, and gave him two quick breaths. She watched for movement in his chest, and then gave him another two breaths. His chest began to heave, and she leaned back while he coughed and sputtered up a lung-full of river.

“Very good,” she said, turning him onto his side and cradling his head from the stones.
“Better out than in, eh young man? What’s his name?”

“Charles Tremaine.
I’m Anna Nolan,” I said, hugging myself for warmth.

“Frieda Kuntz.
Now that we’re sure he’s breathing, let’s get him to my house and warm him up. You could do with some dry clothes and warming up yourself, Anna,” she said, eying me as another convulsion wracked my body. “It’s not very far – my house is right up the road there. Help me to lift him.”

We flipped Tremaine onto his back, where he lay gasping and panting.
Taking his arms, we hauled him to his feet and began dragging him up the road to the house. We didn’t talk much, saving our breath for our exertions except when Frieda asked where Tremaine had gone into the water and how long he’d been in it. I guessed maybe six minutes.

“Six minutes!
He must be a tenacious soul, to be in that freezing water and still alive after six minutes. Good for you, Charlie. Come on, Anna. Not much farther. You can see my house through the trees over there.”

She jerked her head to the left, and I saw a timber A-frame through the brush.
We dragged Tremaine up the drive past a little red Volkswagen Beetle. A dog barked frantically inside the cabin as we staggered up the wooden stairs onto the porch.

“Quiet, Schultzie, stop that barking!” she shouted as he threw himself against the back of the door.
“These are friends. Get back,” she commanded. Frieda wedged Tremaine against the wall with her hip and flung the door open. A large German shepherd jumped up at her waist, nearly knocking her over.

“Down, Schultzie, get down!
Go lie on your bed. Go!” The dog slunk away as we hauled Tremaine through the door, Frieda kicking it shut behind us. We lugged him to a wooden chair beside her dining table and lowered him onto it.

“Anna, hold onto him.
Don’t let him fall off. We’ve got to get these wet clothes off him. I’m going to fetch some towels and blankets for the two of you. I’ll be right back.” She hurried across the room as I turned to Tremaine.

He lay in the chair with his head lolling back and his arms hanging down, hands almost touching the floor.
With my whole body shaking, I tried to loosen the tie at the base of his throat. The knot was beyond me, so I stripped off his sopping wet jacket and began unbuttoning his shirt. I was aware of Frieda bustling around behind me.

“You’re doing fine, Anna,” she called.
“Get his shirt off. I’m going to start a fire in the grate and push the bed over to it. I’ll be right there to help you.”

I managed to unbutton the sleeves at his wrists.
“I-I can’t get his tie undone, Frieda, and I c-can’t get his shirt off,” I said.

I heard her mutter something as she rushed past me into the kitchen.
She hurried back clasping a very efficient-looking carving knife in her hand and a bundle of towels under her arm. I got out of the way as she dropped the towels onto the floor and knelt beside him. Carefully inserting the blade between Tremaine’s tie and his throat, Frieda sliced through the fabric.

“There you go,” she said, pulling the rest of the tie through his shirt collar and flinging it onto the floor before she rushed off again.
I bent over Tremaine, grabbed either side of his shirt, and pulled it back over his shoulders and down his arms, dropping it onto the floor. Grabbing a towel, I rubbed his upper body briskly, trying to warm him and get his blood circulating again. The skin on his torso was white with fine golden hair, muscle and bone etched beneath. I knelt before him, picked up a dry towel, and leaned his smooth chest against my face, reaching around to dry his back. I could hear a fire crackling in the grate and Frieda muttering as she shoved the bed towards the hearth on a round area carpet. She manoeuvred it into place with a series of grunts and glanced over to see how I was doing. Scooping up a pile of blankets from the bed, she hurried back to us.

“Good, Anna, you’ve got the job half done.
Time for you to get out of those wet clothes yourself. Take some of these towels, and when you’re dry, wrap up in a blanket. Then come back and help me with Charlie.”

Shivering, I stumbled over to the fire, standing as close as I could while stripping off my clothes and dropping them in a soggy pile on the floor.
I was too miserable to feel self-conscious about my nudity, and Tremaine’s eyes were closed, anyway. That worried me. Had he slipped into a coma? I wrapped a blanket around myself, tied a knot under my arms, and stumbled back to help.

Frieda had removed Tremaine’s shoes and socks and was wrapping him in a blanket.
She tied a stout knot over his shoulders, the blanket covering him like a toga.

“Just in time,” she said.
“Help me get his pants off.” We stood him up between us and I held him while she tied a towel sarong-style around his hips before taking off the rest of his dripping clothes. I gazed down at his bare feet and thought that they looked awfully vulnerable without his oxfords.

“Good, now let’s put him to bed,” she said.
I wrapped my arms around his chest, she grabbed his knees, and we carried him over to the bed, heaving him onto the side closest to the fire. Frieda had already turned down the bedclothes, and we pulled blankets and a duvet over him before tucking a pillow under his head.

“Very good,” she said, “now you get in, too.”

“Wha-at?” I stammered.

“Get in the bed with him.
We’ve got to warm both of you up. I’ll call 911 and tell them what happened. I know it will take them a little while – this place can be tricky to find. I’m going to get a hot water bottle for his feet, and once the two of you are tucked in, I’ll drive up the road and watch for them.” I hovered beside the bed. “Now don’t get prudish on me, Anna. For pity’s sake, you’ve already seen most of him, and it’s not like he’s going to force himself on you. Go on, get in the bed!”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, grabbing the bed clothes and crawling in beside him.
I was exhausted and still bitterly cold still myself, and it felt heavenly to get beneath all those covers. Frieda nodded and went off to make the call. I could hear her giving instructions as I turned my head to look at Tremaine. His face was as white and lifeless as marble. I reached under the covers and found an icy hand, chafing it between my own for a few seconds. Then I slid an arm under his shoulders and pulled him closer, dragging his head across the pillow. His breathing seemed a little slow, and I tried to stop shaking long enough to monitor it. It was definitely sluggish, which frightened me. I pressed against him and lay my head on his shoulder.

Frieda hurried back with a hot water bottle wrapped in a hand towel, and came around the bed beside the fire.
She smiled at me before slipping the bottle under the blankets beneath Tremaine’s feet. Mine lay on top of his and I could feel the heat surge up from the bottle, making me shiver.

“I’ve got an idea,” Frieda said.
“Schultzie, come.” The furry brown and black dog lumbered quickly to the bed.

“Up, Schultzie,” Frieda said, patting the foot of the bed.
The animal sprang up and settled across our feet. “He’s warmed my feet on many a cold night, that’s for sure,” she said while studying Tremaine’s face. “I think Charlie’s colour is improving, Anna. Keep cuddling him, and I’ll come back with help as soon as I can.” Before she could turn away, however, I reached out from under the bedclothes to take her hand.

“Frieda, you saved both our lives today.
I don’t know how to thank you enough.”

“Never mind.
When we get through this, you can tell me the whole story of how Charlie ended up in the river. I bet it’s a humdinger. For now, just worry about getting you and Charlie warm. I’ve got to go. Don’t worry, I’ll be back with help soon.”

Frieda left the house, slamming the door behind her.
Schultzie lifted his head and listened as she crossed the porch and descended to the drive. A minute later, her car started up and she drove away. The dog laid his head back down, closed his eyes, and sighed. The room was quiet except for an occasional pop and sizzle from the fire. Lying cocooned in the blankets with Tremaine, I began to feel drowsy.

A tremor ran through his body, and I was instantly alert again.
I peered at his face and waited. After a little while, he started shaking. He drew in a shuddering breath, released it, and opened his eyes

“Thank God,” I said softly.
Tremaine turned his head on the pillow to face me, and smiled.

“You saved my life,” he said in a weak, raspy voice.

“Yes, Frieda and I both did.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, his eyelids drooping.

“You’re welcome. It was my p-pleasure,” I said, my teeth chattering.

Tremaine started laughing.
His body shook with cold and laughter until his eyes streamed with tears. I started laughing, too, and we clung to each other and laughed like a couple of loons until Frieda returned with the paramedics.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The EMS workers were very efficient as they checked us out.
They decided that I would be alright, but started an intravenous drip on Tremaine before carrying him off to the hospital. I heard that the Emergency Room doctor discovered a lot of bruising from the battering he had taken in the river, but, thankfully, there were no broken bones. They kept him in overnight for observation, and released him the next day to one of his RCMP colleagues.

Frieda drove me to my car after everyone left her place.
I promised to come back for a visit, and drove home feeling pretty weak. I called Ben’s cell and left a message asking him to call me back, then crawled into bed.

I slept most of the afternoon with my own dog draped across my feet.
When I woke up around supper time, I had about enough energy to feed Wendy and open a can of soup for myself. Poor Wendy; when I went back to my room, she couldn’t figure out why she wasn’t getting a walk and paced around the floor for a few minutes before joining me on the bed. I slept heavily – my body must have been recuperating from the day’s panic and the freezing river water – and felt okay when I got up early the next morning. I had some business to attend to with Amy.