Framed for Murder

by Edward Kendrick

  As I got into bed, after putting on a well-worn pair of sweatpants, I wondered if there was any way I could turn my life around. Maybe it was time to try. Not because it might renew my old relationship with Trent, but for my own self-esteem.

  Chapter 7

  “How are we going to do this?” I asked Trent once we were in his office the following morning. By ‘this’ I meant making it seem as if I planned on blackmailing Wilson with the recording Trent had made of my visit with Seaver the previous evening.

  “Obviously, you have to meet with him. But—” Trent held up a finger, “—we’re not going to pull what we did last night. You’re damned lucky to have gotten out of it with only a sore jaw.”

  “No shit. So we have to come up with a safe place, and then convince him to meet me there.”

  “You got it. The question is, where. Getting him there will require you playing a bit of the recording for him when you call.”

  He downloaded it onto his computer and we listened to it.

  “If we take this part—” Trent meant where I said ‘Your job is to protect him. Does that include covering for him because he’s the one who killed Pender?’ “—and splice it to this…” He played Seaver’s response, which came a good fifteen second later. ‘You’re right; my job is to protect him, which means tying up any loose ends if necessary.’

  “I wish he’d said, ‘which means getting rid of you’.”

  “He did.” Trent played the part that came after Seaver grabbed me. ‘You and I are going for a ride in the country. Unfortunately for you, you won’t be coming back.’ “Put it all together and I think Wilson will be more than willing to meet with you to get the tape back.”

  He did as he’d said, splicing the three sections into what seemed like one coherent part of my conversation with Seaver. We listened and agreed it should work.

  “Now where to meet Wilson,” I said when we were finished. “He’ll want it to be private, you know that. There’s no way that’s going to happen as far as I’m concerned.”

  “But it can’t be too public, either,” Trent replied. “The police are looking for you.”

  “What if we set it up and he brings them in?”

  Trent countered with, “What if I’m the one he has to talk to.”

  “No way! That could ruin your business if the cops do show up, damn it.”

  “Not if he didn’t know it was me. If we move fast, and I say I’m a guy who agreed to help you out with Seaver because we were going to split what he’d pay you for the photo.”

  “How did you manage to record our conversation? For damned sure the average man on the street doesn’t own a parabolic microphone, especially the kind of people I’d know.”

  “But they do have cell phones, and so do you. All we have to say is that you called ‘me’ right before you knocked on Seaver’s door. We kept the line open and I heard and recorded what was said.”

  “Why didn’t we do that to begin with?” I asked.

  “Because he might have searched you and taken your phone. It’s the same reason I decided I didn’t want to wire you. He’s smart, or he should have been. I think you caught him off-guard and it threw him, although he probably would have checked once he had you in the car.”

  “Not that smart, then,” I replied with a brief grin. “But yeah, the phone idea would work as the reason you have a recording of what was said. How are you at disguising yourself?”

  “I’m a private investigator. When necessary, being able to become someone else is part of the job.”

  “What if he does bring in the cops?”

  “We need to find a place that meets all our criteria. Private enough we can’t be overheard, but public enough Seaver or the cops can’t approach without my knowing. It also has to have a way for me to get out of there fast if that happens.”

  “You don’t want much, do you?” I said.

  He chuckled. “Just the moon.”

  “How are we going to record your meeting? Wilson will be a hell of a lot smarter, or cagier, than Seaver was. Especially since he’ll know when the meeting is going to happen, and where.”

  “You get to use the parabolic mike. Don’t worry, it’s easy. You point and shoot. Okay, not shoot but you get the idea.”

  “Yeah.”

  I needed to think about everything we’d been discussing, so I got up, telling him I was going to the break room to get some coffee. He looked surprised but nodded, asking me to bring him a cup, too.

  Most of what we were planning would work, once we ironed out the details. My main problem with it was his talking to Wilson instead of me. I’d been serious when I said if the cops did show up and arrested him before he got any information out of Wilson, it could seriously jeopardize his business. If I was with Wilson and that happened…Well, I’d end up in jail. Not the way I wanted this to end but I had nothing to lose other than my freedom. Trent could lose everything.

  I came back, carrying our coffees. I handed him his, sat and took a sip of mine. Then I said, “I can go in disguised just as easily as you.”

  Trent cocked his head. “True, but why take the chance. If Wilson does plan on involving the police, they’ll arrest you for murder and attempted blackmail. Not exactly how we want to finish this.”

  I shook my head. “He won’t bring them in. He might have them on speed dial,” I barely grinned, “but he won’t want them anywhere close because he won’t know exactly how much I know about what went down with Pender.”

  “You’re willing to take that chance?”

  “Yes. When I call him, and it will be me, I’ll hint that I know why he wanted Pender dead. That, if nothing else, should ensure he comes alone, or with only Seaver for back up.”

  “I don’t like it,” Trent said. “The problem is, I know you’re right. Keep it simple and we might get a confession out of him we can take to the police.”

  “Exactly. I won’t even bother with a disguise, other than maybe…yeah, that will work and make me look less like a vagrant.”

  “Are you going to tell me?” Trent asked.

  “I need dark blue work pants and a matching shirt. It’s what I wore on the job, back when I had one. And a cap with a company logo.”

  “Give me sizes and I’ll send someone out to buy them,” he replied. I did and he called one of his people to tell them what I wanted, including them stopping by a logo shop to have one imprinted on the cap. They obviously asked what it should say because he told them to hang on and then brought up a list of local plumbing companies. “Go for ‘Captain’s Plumbing and Heating’,” he told them a minute later. “There’s no such company, so it should be safe and it won’t involve a real business if things go wrong.”

  “Okay, we know what we’re doing. Now we have to figure out where,” I said.

  “I think I know just the spot,” Trent replied. “It’s the kids’ playground at Hepwood Meadows. I’ve used it before, when I needed a place to talk with a client who would rather not come here or have me at their place of business, or home. Wilson is not going to do anything to endanger children since he has one of his own.” He brought up the aerial view on a map site to show me what he was talking about. It was surrounded by trees, with a number of benches for parents to use while their kids played.

  “Looks okay to me,” I agreed. If things went bad, I’d be able to escape into the trees and take it from there—hopefully.

  “Let’s set the meeting for nine tonight. It’ll be getting dark, but there should still be families taking advantage of the last of the good weather before winter hits. I’ll find a place to hide where I can record everything that’s said. You’ll call him half an hour before the meet. That way he won’t have time to set something up to catch you.”

  “You hope,” I muttered. “If he tries to push the time back…”

  “You tell him he’s to be there exactly at nine, and alone, or the tape goes to the police. If you see anyone other than him, and Seaver if he wants him there, you’re gon
e.”

  “What about the money? I am blackmailing him, or so he’ll think.”

  “If he asks, and he will, tell him you’ll set up a drop point for it after the two of you have talked. Since you’re not really blackmailing him, we don’t have to worry about his going to the police to set up a trap to catch you when he hands over the money. Make sense?”

  “Yeah, it does.”

  “Is there anything we’ve missed?” Trent asked.

  I smiled wryly. “Probably, and we won’t think of it until it’s too late.”

  * * * *

  As soon as we left the office at six, we headed back to the condo. I was carrying the clothes Trent’s man had bought for me, which included the cap with the logo. A copy of the tape Trent had made, on a small recorder, was in my pocket. Trent had the case with the parabolic mike, as well as a gun in a MOB holster which he intended on wearing while we were at the park. “Not that I’ll use it but it’s better to be prepared, just in case,” he told me when I protested that the same thing held true for us as for Wilson. There could be kids around and for damned sure there would be adults in the area.

  We made and ate supper in tense silence. I was envisioning everything that could go wrong. I suspected he was too, although neither of us was willing to admit it. Afterward, with some time to kill before I could get dressed and make the call to Wilson, we found reruns of an old comedy show on one of the cable networks. They did what they were supposed to—took our minds off what would be happening next.

  Then it was time. I went up to change clothes. When I looked in the mirror I flashed back to better days when I was a working stiff and Trent and I were a couple. I was going to make certain it happened again—at least my straightening out my life and getting a job. I had no illusions that Trent and I could start over. Wishes, yes, but that was it. It took two and I had no idea whether he was still even a bit interested in its happening, although there’d been a couple of cues that he might, if I wasn’t reading things wrong.

  Trent smiled when I returned to the living room. “Seeing you like this brings back memories.” I admitted I’d thought the same thing and for a brief second it was as if we were back to when our life together had been good. Then he handed me a cell phone. “It’s a burner with the GPS function disabled. As soon as you make the call I’ll get rid of it.”

  I took it, he gave me the number for Wilson’s personal phone—how he’d gotten it I had no clue—and I dialed.

  It rang long enough I was afraid it would go to voicemail. Then a man answered. I could hear voices behind him and wondered if he was at another campaign meeting.

  “Mr. Wilson?” I said.

  “Speaking.”

  “I have something you should listen to.” I didn’t give him a chance to reply, holding the recorder to the phone then pressing the play button. When it finished there was dead silence for a moment.

  “What does that have to do with me?” Wilson finally asked.

  “I think you know,” I replied. “You have until nine P.M. to get to the playground at Hepwood Meadows. If you don’t show up, this and the rest of the recording goes to the police. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going and come alone. I’ll be watching. If I see anyone other than you, and Mr. Seaver if you want him along since he’s involved, too, I won’t stick around. Understood?”

  “You are going to regret this,” he said with quiet intensity.

  “I doubt that,” I told him before hanging up.

  I stuck the recorder in my pocket, handed Trent the phone, and we took off.

  * * * *

  I sat on a bench under a tree beside the playground. There was one family; the parents watching two toddlers having a great time going down the kiddy slide. Other than that, the only people around were couples or dog-walkers on the paths running through the park. I checked the time on my phone. Eight-fifty-five. Trent had disabled the one I’d used to call Wilson by removing the SIM card, which he crushed under his heel before dropping it in a dumpster on our way to the park. “I’m stingy,” he said when I asked why he hadn’t gotten rid of the whole phone. “These things may be cheap, but every penny counts, as often as we need them.”

  I clenched and unclenched my hands, checking the time again. One minute past nine. Was Wilson going to call my bluff and not show up?

  Then I saw him. He wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t Seaver walking beside him, although I was fairly certain he had to be around somewhere. It wouldn’t be like Wilson not to have at least one bodyguard watching him, I figured, and Seaver was obviously his go-to when there were big problems.

  Instead of Seaver, he had a young girl with him who could only have been Abigail from the way she was chattering at him. Whatever she was saying, he nodded and whispered something to her before she made a dash for the swings. Then he looked around and saw me. Since I was the only man, hell, the only person around other than the family, who were getting ready to leave, he walked toward me.

  “Mr. English?” he asked when he was in front of me.

  “Mr. Wilson, I presume,” I replied. Of course I knew he was. I’d seen his picture in the papers and online, just as he’d seen mine.

  He nodded sharply, sitting at the other end of the bench. “Empty your pockets.”

  I shrugged, and did. The only thing in them was the recorder and my phone, which I showed him. Trent had everything else I’d been carrying. It wasn’t much—my wallet, and the keys to the condo.

  Wilson took a wand from his jacket pocket. “Stand up.” I did. So did he—so he could run the wand over my body. When he finished, we sat again.

  “As you can see, I’m not wired,” I said with a quirky grin.

  He didn’t respond as he picked up my phone and checked to be certain it was turned off. Then he asked, pointing to the recorder, “Do you really think I’m going to pay you for whatever’s on that?”

  “I’m not asking for much. Just a statement that either you or your man, Seaver, killed Pender.”

  “Do you really think I’d admit to that?”

  “It’s your choice. Admit it, in writing, or I’ll have a friend of mine give the original tape to the cops, with an explanation about how he got it. I’ll tell you what I told Seaver. I won’t use the confession unless I’m forced to. I’m sure you’ve got enough connections that you can get any charges against me dropped for lack of evidence.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Your fingerprints were found at the scene.”

  “The cops have been known to make mistakes.”

  He remained silent, intently watching his daughter. Finally, he said softly, “Do you know what it’s like to have a child, Mr. English? One you love so deeply you’d do anything to keep her safe?”

  “No, but I can imagine it,” I replied equally as quietly.

  “We wanted a child of our own, but my wife can’t have any. We didn’t find that out until three years after we were married. We tried everything, but…” He shook his head, still staring at Abigail. “In the end, we decided to adopt. The moment we saw Abby we knew she was the one we wanted. She was a beautiful baby. She’s grown into a beautiful, caring child. Then, six months ago, Pender came to me, telling me he was her natural father and he wanted her back.” He finally looked at me. “He had proof to back his story. I talked to my lawyers. They said he could sue for custody, and there was a chance he might win. A slim one, but…”

  “So you decided to get him out of the picture instead.”

  “No.” He shook his head vehemently. “I made arrangements for us, Pender and me, to have a private hearing in front of a judge. Us and our lawyers, no one else. The last thing I wanted was to put Abby through the publicity that would result from having an open hearing. It took a while to arrange, but it happened. We won.”

  “Then why kill him?”

  “I’m not admitting I did. Picture this, though. We walked out of the judge’s chamber, the winners. Two days later, Pender showed up at our house, unannounced. He’d waited until my wife brou
ght Abby home from her ballet class. Probably he had been watching the house for them. It was late afternoon; I’d just arrived home as well. I was terrified he planned on telling Abby he was her birth father. Instead, he told her that he and I were good friends and he was happy to finally meet her. He played it up big, before my wife told Abby to go change into her play clothes. As soon as Abby left the room, he said he was going to go public about the hearing, telling anyone who would listen that I paid the judge off to rule in our favor. If you know anything at all about him, you know he was well-connected, so a lot of people would have believed him.”

  “Ergo you decided he had to be eliminated.”

  “No!” Wilson replied emphatically. “I didn’t want to continue the discussion in my home, when Abby could come in any minute. So I arranged to meet him at his house the next evening. He agreed. When I got there, he was in the kitchen, making coffee. He pretended to listen to my pleas not to put Abby through this. Then he had the temerity to laugh in my face. ‘She’s my daughter. I want her back. I’ll ruin you if I have to, but I will get her back.’”

  I think he felt the need to finally get this off his chest and I was willing to listen, because he took a deep breath, staring down at his clenched hands. “As soon as he’d said that, he very smugly asked me if I wanted coffee while pouring a cup for himself. I saw red. There were knives in a butcher block on the counter. His back was to me. I probably couldn’t have done it if he’d been facing me. I grabbed a knife and stabbed him. I didn’t plan on it. It just happened.”

  I felt a wave of pity for him. He was a father, defending the daughter he loved. But…“Then you called Seaver.”

  “Yes. He told me to get out of there. That he’d take care of things.” Wilson looked dead at me. “I didn’t expect him to do what he did, framing someone…you, for the murder. If I’d known he was going to do that I’d have stopped him.”

  “Why should I believe you?” I asked harshly.

  ‘‘Because it’s the truth. Everything I’ve told you is the truth.”