Framed for Murder

by Edward Kendrick

  There was that compassionate look again before he said, “Okay. I saw a couple of fast-food places on my way over here. Hamburgers or tacos?”

  I swear my stomach growled loud enough he should have been able to hear it. “Burgers. A couple of them with fries.” I took out one of the tens the man had given me.

  “Keep that,” he said as he disengaged the alarm and opened the door. “It won’t break me to buy you dinner.”

  He was gone before I could reply. I engaged the alarm again, locked the door, and began pacing. I had two big problems, as far as I could tell. One, of course, was how to get out from under a possible murder charge. The other was much more personal. Had I made a mistake, going to Trent for help? Logically, I hadn’t. He was a detective who knew what he was doing, what needed to be done to find the man who had set me up. Emotionally was another thing. Even though we’d parted amiably, knowing on both our parts it was the best thing to do, I realized after seeing him again that I still had feelings for him.

  It might have been the situation and the fact he was willing to help me. Having a friend by my side did a lot to make me believe I might get out of the trouble I was in. Did I want more? Did I want to go back to what we’d had so many years ago? Maybe, I thought. But I figured even if I did, it wasn’t going to happen. If our differences then had been enough to end our relationship, now they would be insurmountable. I wasn’t just the guy with a relatively menial job. I was homeless, living on the streets. After this was over, he’d have no qualms about walking away and I couldn’t, I wouldn’t blame him for that.

  “So stash any ideas about our trying again. It ain’t happening,” I said under my breath.

  Settling on the bed, I picked up my book. I was almost finished reading it, which meant another trip to one of the Little Lending Libraries to get a new one. I wondered if there was one near the motel and figured probably not. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood that would have one. I was two chapters from the end, trying to figure out who the killer was since it was a mystery, when there was a knock on the door. After checking to make certain it was Trent, I let him in.

  He was carrying three bags, and had a laptop tucked under his arm. Two of the bags were from the fast-food place; the third looked like one from a grocery store. It was.

  “I figured, since you’re going to be stuck here for a while, you’d need food,” Trent said after putting the bags and the laptop on the dresser. He opened the grocery bag, taking out a selection of fruits, cheese and cracker packages, a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a couple of containers holding carrots and celery sticks. “Not exactly exciting,” he commented, “but stuff you don’t need to cook or refrigerate.”

  “Thank you! You didn’t have to…”

  “I wanted to, so deal.” He handed me one of the fast-food bags. “Let’s eat and then decide what to do next.”

  Call me crazy—or suddenly horny, since by my own choice I hadn’t had sex since hitting the streets. As I’ve said, I won’t do it for money, and for damned sure I hadn’t met anyone I’d do it with in some dark alley for the physical release. Anyway, the moment he said ‘what to do next’, my thoughts went to the bed a couple of feet away, and how the one thing that had always been great between us was making love. Obviously, I pushed that idea to the back of my mind as fast as it had appeared.

  I unwrapped one of the burgers, took a bite, and almost moaned at how good it tasted. A day without eating will do that to a guy. I scarfed it down before taking out the second one and the fries. I ate them slowly, savoring every bite. At one point I looked at Trent and saw him watching me sympathetically. He quickly glanced away, so I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to embarrass him.

  By the time we finished it was almost eight-thirty, according to the clock on the dresser. I figured Trent would be ready to leave. He obviously had other ideas.

  “We need to find out more about Mr. Pender,” he said, getting the laptop. “If this place has Wi-Fi…” He opened the laptop and turned it on. I thought that was a vain wish. Apparently I was wrong, or somewhere close by did that he was able to tap into, because a few moments later he was online.

  He must have realized I couldn’t see what he was doing, since he was in the chair and I was sitting on the edge of the bed, because he came over to sit beside me.

  He typed Pender’s name into one of the search engines. Of course the first thing that came up were stories about his murder. Not what I wanted to see, but unsurprising none the less.

  “According to this,” Trent said, “he was forty-two, unmarried, and had helped launch several small businesses which, under his tutelage went on to make a profit for them and him.”

  “All-around good guy and a saint to those he helped,” I said sarcastically. “It may look like that on paper, but there has to be a reason someone wanted him dead.”

  “Absolutely. The problem is finding it. The way he was killed, supposedly by a burglar caught in the act, means the police won’t be looking for any other reason for his murder. Whoever planned this was clever, whether it was only the guy who hired you or other people as well.”

  “Obviously Pender had to be involved in something illegal,” I said.

  “Or found out something that your man, and maybe his cohorts, didn’t want revealed.”

  “So how do we find out, either way?”

  “A lot of deep searching,” Trent replied. “Most of which I can’t do unless I’m at my office where I have links to sites your average person doesn’t know exist, or couldn’t get into if they did.”

  “Then why are we…?” I cocked my head in question.

  “For this,” Trent said, going to the ‘Images’ page for Pender on the search engine. “This is him. Have you ever seen him before?”

  I snorted. “Not unless he dropped money in my cup, and even then I wouldn’t remember unless he was a regular.”

  “Okay. Look at the photos of him with other people. Are any of the men the one who hired you?”

  There were dozens of pictures. Pender at charity social functions. Pender standing with the owners of businesses he’d helped launch. Pender coupled with various females he had taken to the theater or other public venues.

  As Trent scrolled from picture to picture, enlarging each one then moving on, all the people began to look the same. I knew they weren’t but when you see so many of them…I was about to tell him enough was enough when he brought up a picture taken at yet another gala. Pender was in the forefront with a well-dressed woman, surrounded by other guests. At the back of the pack, so to speak, was a man’s face, just visible between the heads of the women in front of him.

  “Him, maybe. Can you enlarge it?”

  Trent did, which didn’t help much but…“He’s the closest I’ve seen to my man. Who is he?”

  “No clue,” Trent replied. “The majority of the people are named, under the photo, but not him.”

  I checked, matching names to faces for each row by tapping them. There were names for the two women, with no mention of the man behind them.

  “Damn it,” I muttered.

  “Don’t give up yet.” Trent copied the photo, and the picture’s web address, into an email, sending it to his work email. “I’ve got a program that will be able to enhance it. Then I’ll do a facial search. With luck, he’ll turn up and we’ll be one step closer.”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Trent shut down and closed the laptop. “I’m going to head home. I’ve got a busy day, tomorrow.”

  “I wish I did.”

  He smiled, patting my shoulder. “Take advantage of being able to sleep as much as you can without worrying about being hassled.”

  “There is that, I guess. Call me if you find out his name?”

  “Of course. I’ll check in with you in the morning and come by again after work. If I get lucky, I may have more information for you on Pender and the elusive whoever he is.”

  “I hope.”

  I locked the door afte
r he left, made certain the alarm was engaged, then undressed, carefully folding what I’d been wearing, except for my socks and briefs. Those, I washed out in the sink, hanging them to dry over the towel rack. I turned on the water in the shower as hot as I could stand it, hoping it wouldn’t run out too soon. Stepping under it, I luxuriated in the first real shower I’d had in forever. When the water began to cool, I lathered up the washcloth, scrubbing every inch of my body until there wasn’t even a trace of dirt left. Then I washed my hair, rinsed, and dried off.

  I wished I had something clean to sleep in, but I didn’t so I settled for nothing. That felt strange as I hadn’t slept in the nude since hitting the streets. I turned off the lights before getting into bed, pulled up the covers, and promptly fell asleep.

  Chapter 4

  I watched the morning news while getting dressed. It was almost enough to send me back to bed with my face buried under the pillow. Although Pender’s murder wasn’t one of the lead stories, there was an update. Guess whose name and face were featured. “Just what I don’t need,” I said angrily when I saw that, and again ten minutes later when Trent called to let me know about the story.

  “You were right, though,” he pointed out when I finished ranting. “They used an old photo. I’m not sure I’d be able to recognize you now from it. You can bet no one else will be able to.”

  “Until the cops get smart and do one of those mockups adding different hair, and a beard and mustache. If the person who called to let them know someone was trying to break into Pender’s house gave them any sort of description of me, that’ll happen sooner than later.”

  “I know. Maybe it’s time to move you again. Or at least get you out of there during the day. The night clerk hasn’t seen you, so he shouldn’t have a clue you’re ‘you’ if the cops do release other pictures to the media.”

  “The day clerk will, though. Okay, maybe not. He barely looked at me when I picked up the key.”

  “Good,” Trent replied. “Still…I’ll be there in half an hour, give or take, to pick you up. I’ll call when I get there to let you know it’s safe to leave your room.”

  “I thought you had a busy day, today.”

  “I do. It doesn’t mean I can’t stash you at the office. I’ll tell the people who work for me what’s going on. I’ve done the same thing a couple of times before, for clients who hired me to try to prove they didn’t do whatever they’re accused of.”

  “Like murder?” I asked.

  “No, but things almost as bad.”

  “And you trust your people…Never mind. Of course you do or they wouldn’t be working for you.”

  “Exactly.”

  Trent showed up twenty minutes later. He said the coast was clear, but I still felt like a wanted man with my pursuer right behind me as I hurried down to his car. Of course I was wanted, if not in anyone’s sights right that instant—or so I hoped. I huddled down in the front seat, keeping my head lowered, until we got to the parking garage at his office building. Even when I got out of the car, knowing I was perfectly safe, I couldn’t keep from tightening my shoulders as if to ward off an attack.

  “Relax,” Trent said, smiling at me. “In five minutes you’ll be in my office with no one the wiser.”

  He was right. We took the elevator from the garage up to the fifth floor with only one other person getting on. I turned so they couldn’t see my face, glad when they got off on the next floor. On ‘five’ we got off, Trent hustled me to the fire stairs, and we walked down two flights. After he’d checked to be certain the hallway was empty, we walked quickly to his office suite.

  He didn’t have to introduce me to the receptionist. I’d met her yesterday on my first visit there. She waved as we went by her desk, telling him that he had some emails he needed to take care of.

  “Of course I do. It’s never ending,” he grumbled. When we got to his office, I took a seat on the visitors’ sofa while he dealt with the emails. Then he called in his people to make a general introduction so they’d know who I was and why I was there if they saw me going down the hall to the men’s room, or to the break room for coffee.

  “We’re going to get you out of this,” Roger, one of the operatives, told me confidently.

  “Well, unless you really did kill Mr. Pender,” Gwen, Trent’s handwriting and document expert said. “Then we throw you to the dogs.” She grinned so I didn’t take her seriously.

  There was a bit more chatter from everyone, most of it lighthearted. I suspect that was to keep me from becoming tenser than I was already. Or maybe they sensed that I’m not a people-person where groups are involved. That was another thing that contributed to us breaking up. Trent enjoyed parties. I was much happier staying home with a good book or TV show—with him by my side.

  They finally left to do, well, whatever it was they do. Trent told me he had a meeting with a client at their place of business. “Feel free to wander, or find something to read,” he said, gesturing to the bookshelf beside the window.

  The books, I found out, were all related to what the agency does. I chose one about how to disappear, and how to track someone who had. Considering my situation, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to know about it from both sides in case I had to go on the run.

  I was deep into the logistics of creating a new identity when Trent returned. He chuckled when he saw what I was reading, saying I pretty much had a lot of it down pat already, given how I’d been living for the last couple of years. He had a point.

  “I’ve got a few minutes, so let’s see what I can do with the photo we found last night,” he said, opening the email he’d sent to his work computer last night.

  I figured he didn’t want me hanging over his shoulder, so I stayed where I was for the time being. I could still watch from there without disturbing him. He went to the original site where we found the photo, copied it into the program he’d mentioned, then eliminated everything but the face of the man we were interested in. He enlarged and sharpened it, then asked, “Still think he could be your man?”

  I came over to get a closer look and nodded. “As much as remember of him, yeah, that’s him.”

  “Now to find out who he is.”

  In theory, that should have been as simple as using the photo search page of one of the major search engines. The problem was, it couldn’t find what didn’t exist. The only picture that came up was the one we already had.

  “Time to let Ben do his thing,” Trent said. “I should have in the first place, since he’s our expert on this, but I figured we’d get lucky out of the gate. It seems like this guy is camera shy.”

  “Then why is he in that photo?”

  Trent shrugged. “Bad luck on his part? He didn’t realize it was being taken? We’ll see what Ben can come up with through some of the sites he’s got access to.” The way he said ‘access,’ I had the feeling it involved hacking into them. He sent everything to Ben and then said, “I’ve got a client coming in to learn what we’ve found out about her missing husband.”

  “You do that kind of thing?”

  Trent nodded. “It’s different from spying on a straying spouse. Sometimes men, or women, disappear to be with a new lover, or to get out from under what they think is an untenable situation. They need to be found if the other person decides they want a divorce.”

  “That makes sense. I’ll go check out the break room.”

  “It’s down the hall, on your left.”

  * * * *

  I was making a second cup of coffee, having drunk the first one while I waited for Trent to finish with his client, when Roger came in. When I looked up from my book, he put a finger to his lips, gesturing for me to follow him. We left the break room, after he checked to be certain the hallway was empty, ending up in his office. Once he’d locked the door, he said, “Trent got a call. Two police detectives are on their way over to talk with him. They should be here any minute now.”

  “Shit. About me?”

  “Yep. From what they told him, the
y’re aware you and he were in a relationship a few years ago. Something I for one didn’t know about until just now. Trent is very good at keeping his personal life separate from his business one.”

  I was aware of that. It’s why I’d never met any of his employees until today, and then only as a ‘new client.’ I was surprised he’d said anything to Roger about us, then figured it was because he needed him to get me out of sight until the cops left. How the hell the cops found out is another thing, but I suppose they have their sources.

  “Our guess,” Roger continued, “is that they want to know if you’ve been in contact with Trent since then, especially in the last couple of days. He’s already warned everyone else they shouldn’t mention they’ve seen you, if the detectives ask.”

  “Okay.” I wondered if Trent would pump the detectives about Pender while they were here—and if they’d tell him anything if he tried.

  “Might as well have a seat. This could take a while,” Roger said, so I did, at the chair by his desk. He settled in his chair, studying me. “You don’t look like Trent’s type.”

  “He has one?” I felt a definite twinge of jealousy.

  Roger chuckled. “I have no clue. As I said, he keeps his personal life personal. We all know he’s gay, but that’s about it. I only meant…”

  “I’m not a clean-cut, businessman type.”

  “Yeah, pretty much.”

  “I never was. I worked as a plumber. It’s how we met. He had a busted waterline and called my company. I got sent out on the job. It sounds clichéd but something clicked between us.”

  “I remember when that happened. He wasn’t happy that he had to take time off so he could be there while it was being fixed.” Roger grinned. “I guess he changed his mind.”

  “I guess he did.”

  “So, and I’ll admit I’m being nosy, but I am a detective, it comes with the territory. How come you’re not together anymore?”

  “In the end, we decided we’re too different. It took three years to figure out it wasn’t working, but we did. It ended fairly amiably. No big drama or anything like that.”