Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery) (7 page)

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

“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 too, 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 which 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 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, Frank. 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 important 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, Frank. I think I like this better than your burgundy wine stew. The pearl onions are a nice touch, too.”

Frank smiled.
“Thanks, Anna.”

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, Frank, 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 Anna?” 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 came 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, Steve?” 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, Steve.
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?” I asked.

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.

Chapter Eight

Yesterday morning, I had been worried about my ex-husband’s murder.
Today, I was worried about being the chief suspect in his murder investigation. As I drove into Calgary, I thought how precarious was the life I had worked so hard to build for myself after the divorce. I had everything that I needed: a house, a job I could count on, a few good friends, a dog to keep me company, and the book club. Ben was doing just fine, too. But if the unthinkable happened and I was convicted of Jack’s murder, I could be put in prison for a good long time and Ben would be labelled the son of a killer. Even if I wasn’t convicted, some of the people in Crane might always believe that I had killed Jack. They might even treat it as a joke, as Clive had done at The Diner. That would be unbearable, people winking at me and gossiping behind my back. And what if the people at the university found out? Would I have to give up my job and start over again somewhere else?

My earlier life had been totally different.
I had arrived in Toronto at the age of eighteen to pursue a career in acting. I had left behind my parents and everyone I knew in the small lakeside community I grew up in, determined to make a success of myself no matter what people thought. “Anna is so shy. Anna is such a loner. How could she possibly go on the stage?” everyone, even my parents, asked.

I enrolled in a college acting class where Jack happened to be the teacher.
Ten years older than I with an established stage career, he was magnificent. Handsome, charismatic, self-assured, he swaggered about the stage impressing the hell out of us students. I was totally besotted, and I couldn’t believe my luck when Jack started flirting with me. To this day, I never knew what attracted him. We got together after the course ended and, well, sparks flew, the earth shook, and all of those other clichés. I was deliriously happy; not only did this gorgeous man love me, but he introduced me to important directors and actors that I had previously only admired from the audience.

We married less than six months after we started dating, me in a tea-length white dress with flowers in my hair and Jack in a suit without a tie.
My parents warned me against marrying so quickly and to a man with such an unstable career, but I dismissed their concerns as petty. After all, my father had never approved of my frivolous acting ambitions and my mother didn’t even have a job, so what did they know about life? I was going to follow my dreams.

The first year of married life was bliss.
Jack and I both got acting jobs, and we’d meet up at a bar or a restaurant after the show and stay out all night with our friends. I adored my husband, I felt privileged to be working as an actress, and I had the freedom to do whatever I pleased. My spirits were flying, but I fell back to earth the second year when I discovered that Jack was cheating on me. When I confronted him about the affair, Jack actually got down on his knees, tears streaming down his face, and swore that it would never happen again. I was devastated, but I had seen for myself that women were attracted to Jack like bees to pollen. He was a passionate man exposed to a lot of temptation, and he had made a big mistake. Was I going to break up our marriage over a single mistake? I admit I went crazy for about a month after I found out, but we eventually patched things up and got on with it, albeit a little less joyfully than before.

When Ben came along, however, it became apparent that we couldn’t sustain our carefree lifestyle.
Someone was going to have to provide stability for our child, and it made sense that that somebody should be me, at least until I could restart my acting career. That’s what I told myself, anyway.

For the first fifteen years of his life, Ben and I followed Jack across the country while he pursued acting opportunities and I tried to make a string of apartments feel like home to our small family.
Unfortunately, Jack also had access to a steady stream of pretty young actresses. After a series of humiliations, I finally realized that my husband’s cheating wasn’t going to stop. I had a choice to make, and I decided that a bruised ego was of little consequence compared to the hardship and disgrace of raising my son on welfare. So, I decided to ignore Jack’s dalliances as long as he didn’t rub my nose in them. Fortunately my husband was a consummate liar, and his stories didn’t become insultingly transparent until the latter part of our marriage.

Well, that segment of my life was over and done with, and I had done pretty well for myself since leaving Jack.
Now my new, precious little life was threatened, and I felt both frightened and angry. It just wasn’t fair. How could a dead ex-husband jeopardize everything? I felt powerless to do anything to help myself. The real world wasn’t anything like it was in Agatha Christie’s books where Miss Marple could solve murders simply by observing human nature or Poirot by using his little grey cells. I fumed about it as I parked my car and stomped into the university.

My work day began with a two-hour computer training session, the result of a recent software upgrade, and I wasn’t back at my desk until 11:00.
I was just going through my e-mail when I heard Magdalena’s door open across the hallway and a familiar voice said, “Thank you for taking the time to see me, Dr. Lewis.” I looked up and saw Tremaine standing in her doorway, shaking Magdalena’s hand.