Framed!

by Robin Caroll

  Patsy stood in the doorway, tears in her eyes.

  Blood rushing to his head and pulse pounding in his ears, Max stood and put his hands on the back of his head. “Pats, call Lyle Tanner for me. Tell him I’ve been arrested.”

  “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right…”

  Max couldn’t register the rest of what Sam said. The thumping of his heart drowned out everything when the cold metal of handcuffs wrapped around his wrist. His right handcuffed arm was brought down behind his back. His left followed, to be put in the other wrist bracelet. Fear lanced through his gut.

  He stumbled as Sam led him from his office to the sheriff’s cruiser. The sun beat down on him, but that heat wasn’t what slicked Max’s palms with sweat. The air held a coppery odor. Stale. The stench of his own fear.

  Sam held his hand over Max’s head and pushed to help him into the automobile. The stench of stale liquor was stronger. Or maybe Max’s senses were in overdrive.

  Being arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. Never, in his wildest nightmares, could he have imagined this would happen.

  They drove diagonally across the street and led him into the sheriff’s station. He was fingerprinted, had a picture taken while holding a little sign and then put in the interrogation room. Alone. But not for long.

  Sam waltzed in as if he owned the place. “Wanna tell me again how you’re innocent?”

  “I am.”

  “Then how are the tire tracks taken at the scene an exact match to the tires on your car?” Sam nodded. “That’s right. The results from the castings are back. Ninety-nine percent of those tracks were made by your car.”

  Now he knew for sure. He was being framed!

  “I wasn’t there. Someone’s setting me up.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Right. Who?” Sam sat on the edge of the table and towered over him.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t report your car stolen.”

  “I didn’t know it’d been driven.”

  “Who else has keys to your car?”

  Max pinched his lips together. Only one other person had the keys to his car. On the key ring with the key to his condo.

  His mother.

  No, she wouldn’t—well, would she? He’d have said no just a couple of days ago, but now, after learning what she’d done to Ava…he wasn’t so sure. No, she wouldn’t do this to him. Why would she?

  “Who else has a key?”

  “I’d like my lawyer.”

  Sam stood, shaking his head. “Of course you would.” He stormed from the room, slamming the door in his wake.

  Max rested his head in his hands. He was innocent. Arrested for a murder he didn’t commit. By a man whose wedding was being planned by the woman Max loved.

  He’d never felt so alone in his life.

  Nothing made sense. He didn’t understand. This was crazy.

  Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.

  Trust in God, through this?

  A cloak of peace shrouded him.

  Trust in the Lord with all your heart.

  Could he trust God? Could he go back to leaning on Him at all times, but especially during trying times? But it didn’t make sense.

  Lean not on your own understanding. Trust in the Lord with all your heart.

  Tears rose to his eyes, threatening to escape. All this time, he’d been trying to do things himself, solve all his own problems. Well, this was one he couldn’t solve himself. There was no way out but by divine intervention.

  Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding.

  Trembling, Max bowed his head and prayed to the God he’d resisted for more than ten years.

  NINETEEN

  Could the day have been any worse?

  After finishing up at I Dream of Weddings, Ava slipped behind the wheel of her car. The sun kissed the horizon, shooting streaks of orange across the darkening sky. It’d been a long, horrible day. A very hot, very full bubble bath sounded like just the ticket to ease her stress. Followed by dropping into her bed and pulling the covers over her head. Tomorrow had to be a better day.

  She backed out of the parking lot, steering toward home. She yawned, sleepiness creeping over her. Wouldn’t do to fall asleep at the wheel at six o’clock. With the press of a button, the stereo blasted through the speakers. The local eighties station filled the car with a song she and Max had danced to at one of their high school homecomings. Great, just great.

  Ava reached to turn the dial just as the song ended. She hesitated as the deejay came across the airwaves.

  Now for this late-breaking story…Max Pershing, Loomis land developer and real estate mogul, has been arrested for the murder of business rival Dylan Renault. Mr. Pershing was taken into custody by St. Tammany parish Sheriff Bradford Reed and FBI agent Sam Pierce. No statement has been made by either branch of law enforcement at this time regarding what led to the arrest of Pershing. Stay tuned for details as soon as they’re released. This is Emily Miller, your drive-at-five host for KBAD.

  Ava slammed on the brakes, and the car shimmied to the shoulder. Max…arrested? This couldn’t be happening.

  Her breathing came in gasps and spurts. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear she was having an asthma attack. But she did know better, and that’s what sent fearful adrenaline racing through her.

  What had the police found in Max’s car? They had to have found something convicting enough to have arrested him. This wasn’t some threat. This was real.

  She needed to know what was going on. Deserved to know. This was her brother’s murder case. And the arrest of the man she’d never fallen out of love with.

  Wait a minute…did she still love Max? Despite everything? No, she couldn’t. There was too much painful history. Too much between them.

  He was a suspect in her brother’s murder.

  He was framed.

  He’d hurt her.

  She’d hurt him.

  He wasn’t a Christian anymore.

  That one stopped her arguments. She had no clue how she felt. Right now, all she could do was pray for him.

  She shouldn’t have asked herself the question if her day could be any worse. It’d taken a nosedive into the Worst Day Hall of Fame.

  Yes, all she could do right now was pray. For Max. For the truth. For justice.

  And ignore the little voice whispering in her ear that maybe she’d been wrong about Max.

  Peace filled him.

  It didn’t matter what the FBI and the sheriff said, Max knew he was innocent. Beyond that, it didn’t matter. He was back in harmony with God. Wasn’t that all that counted?

  Within moments, the door swished open and Lyle Tanner entered. The guard shut the door, leaving Max alone with his attorney. “Max.”

  “Lyle.”

  The lawyer pulled out the metal chair across the table from Max. It scraped across the grimy floor, sending goose bumps scattering over Max’s back. “Okay, here’s what they’ve got.” He set a legal pad on the table and scanned his own handwriting. “Your medallion in Mr. Renault’s pocket. An eyewitness that puts your car at the scene of the crime. And they’ve matched the casts from tire tracks made at the scene to the tires on your car. Compound all this with the ongoing family feud between the Pershings and Renaults, your past relationship with Ava Renault, and you have yourself as a prime murder suspect.”

  Well, spelled out like that, it was easy to see why they’d arrested him.

  “But I didn’t kill him.”

  Lyle glanced over his notes again. “When you met with Dylan the week before his murder, did you take your car? That could explain the matching tire tracks.”

  Thinking carefully, tapping into every ounce of his memory, Max slowly shook his head. “I took my truck.”

  “These tests are pretty conclusive, Max. Add in the eyewitness who places your car
there, and any jury in America is going to believe you were at the murder scene.”

  How had he gotten into this situation? Nothing made sense.

  “I didn’t drive my car there. I can’t explain this except to say I’m being set up.”

  The lawyer made a grumbling sound under his breath and flipped the page on his notebook. “Okay. Then let’s see who could be setting you up. The person had to have access to the medallion. And your car. Give me some names of people with that kind of access to your property.”

  “Well, Ava and I already figured out that just about anyone could have gotten the necklace.”

  Pen poised over paper, Lyle stared at him. “Ava? As in Ava Renault?”

  Max swallowed. “Yes. She believes I’m being set up, too.”

  “Whoa. Back up a minute. You and Ava have discussed the case?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why on earth would you do that?” Lyle shuddered. “This is her brother’s murder, Max. She can’t be objective.”

  “Ava’s not like that. She only wants the truth.”

  “Uh-huh.” He scribbled on the paper. “So why does she believe you’re being framed?”

  “Because on the sheriff’s inventory report of what was found on Dylan’s body, the medallion was marked as being in his left front pocket. Dylan was right-handed and never put anything in his left pocket.”

  Lyle wrote faster. “Good. We didn’t have access to that information.”

  “And then there’s the matter of the hairs.”

  “Hairs?”

  Max explained about the matching red hairs found on Earl Farley and Dylan, and the results that they came from a wig.

  “I can’t believe I wasn’t provided this information.”

  “Maybe because they haven’t found a red wig in my possession to link me to all the murders.”

  “This is good. The hair obviously links Dylan and Earl’s murders, but you weren’t even a suspect in Earl’s death. You weren’t in a family feud with Earl Farley, were you?” Lyle delivered the last question as a punch line.

  “Well, actually…” His lawyer so wasn’t going to like this connection.

  “What?”

  “In December, at the Christmas tree lighting ceremony in Loomis Park, Bartholomew Hansen and Earl got into an altercation. I helped break it up, and Earl got a bit mad at me.”

  “What, exactly, is a bit mad?”

  “He yelled at me, cussed me out, told me to mind my business or I’d be sorry.”

  “What’d you say in response?”

  Max shrugged. “I think I said something like if he didn’t straighten up, he’d be the one who was sorry.”

  Lyle shook his head. “Is it too much to hope that no one else heard this exchange?”

  “I know Bartholomew heard it. And others were standing around because when they went to exchanging blows, a crowd gathered.”

  “Great. This doesn’t look so good for you, Max. They can tie you to Dylan’s murder very easily, unless we can figure out how to cast reasonable doubt in the jury’s mind, and now this will link you to Earl. The hair found on both will just be a further connection.”

  The strong sense of being overwhelmed and the situation being hopeless closed Max’s eyes. God, I know You and I just got back on speaking terms and all, but I sure could use some help down here. Pretty quick.

  “Help me out, Max. Think. The most damning evidence is your car. Besides you, who else has keys to the car? Or have you lost a key in recent months?”

  “I haven’t lost a key.” And the only person who had a set of all his keys was his mother. But Max wasn’t ready to discuss that with anyone. Not even his lawyer. Maybe she’d loaned his car to someone and failed to tell him. He couldn’t just give her up without knowing the details. He knew all too well how the facts could be twisted and turned to make someone innocent look guilty.

  His mother couldn’t be involved in Dylan Renault’s murder. No way, no how. She just didn’t have it in her.

  Of course he never thought she’d have it in her to lie to Ava’s face and destroy their relationship, either.

  She couldn’t stay away.

  No longer tired, Ava had driven around Loomis for a couple of hours. She didn’t want to go home and face her mother, who by now surely had heard that Max had been arrested for Dylan’s murder. She just didn’t have it in her to fight her mother right now. Not when she knew Max was innocent.

  And she knew she still loved him, even if they couldn’t be together.

  It was time for answers. Past time, actually.

  Dylan was her brother, so she should be kept abreast of the investigation. She had every right to know what was going on.

  At least, that’s what she told herself as she headed to the sheriff’s station. She ignored the hiccupping of her heart at the thought that Max had been arrested. For a crime she knew deep inside he didn’t commit.

  She parked and walked across the lot. The last vestiges of daylight disappeared, and night stole over Loomis. Tree frogs and crickets sang, welcoming the eerie darkness. A nippiness settled in the air. Ava felt the chill deep into her bones. She quickened her pace.

  Without a clue as to what she would say, Ava opened the door to the sheriff’s station. A wave of stale warmth breezed against her face. Stagnant air, reeking of old coffee and too many people confined in a small space, nearly made her gag. Not that anyone noticed.

  The place hopped with activity. Phones rang, people moved about at a fast pace, printers hummed. A hub of noise kept getting louder and louder. Two local television crews hovered in the entry alongside Ava, a reporter knocking on the counter and asking to see someone about the arrest of Max Pershing.

  She shouldn’t be here. It’d been a mistake to come. But she had no choice. She had to see Max. Had to let him know she believed in his innocence. Ava shifted to keep her back to the news crews. The last thing she needed was to be caught up on a newscast.

  Sam Pierce strode from the back of the station, caught sight of the newspeople and started to turn back around. Then, his gaze locked onto Ava’s. He moved quickly to escort her behind the counter, much to the chagrin of the reporter, until she realized who the FBI agent had retrieved.

  “Hey, Ava Renault. Are you here to see Max Pershing pay for murdering your brother?”

  “Don’t answer them. Don’t even look at them,” Sam whispered in her ear as he led her down the hall to an empty office.

  They passed a deputy on the way. Sam pointed at the man. “There are television crews up front. Get them out of here. Now.”

  He led her into the office and shut the door. Turning to face her, he scowled. “What were you thinking coming down here? You shouldn’t be here. It’s a circus, and your presence only feeds all the gossip.”

  “I had to come.” She grabbed his wrist. “Sam, Max is innocent. Someone’s framing him.”

  He shook his head. “The evidence points directly to him.”

  “Because someone wants it to.”

  “Sorry. I’m not buying it.”

  “Please, listen.”

  He sighed.

  “What if it was Jocelyn accused of something she didn’t do? Wouldn’t you want someone to hear her out?”

  “What makes you think he’s being set up?” His tone reflected he was merely humoring her, but at least he listened.

  “That medallion.”

  “What about it?”

  “It was found in Dylan’s left front pants pocket. Dylan was right-handed.”

  Sam shrugged. “Semantics.”

  “No.” She almost yelled but was beyond caring. “Listen to me. Someone is setting Max up. I know it.”

  He stared at her with such pity.

  “Sam, I’m right. Look, this is my brother’s murder we’re talking about—I want to see justice served so badly. But not so badly that I’ll settle just for the case to be closed. I want the truth.”

  “And you don’t think Max is guilty? C’mon, Ava. I know th
ere’s a history between you and all, but we got a perfect match from the tire tracks made at the scene to his car tires. How can you explain that?”

  She couldn’t.

  “You aren’t his lawyer, Ava.” He touched her shoulder. “Look, I know this is hard and very emotional for you, but let us handle this. Max’s lawyer is here and if there’s a mistake, he’ll be sure to point it out to us.” He let his hand fall. “Go home. Get some rest. You can call me tomorrow if you need to talk.”

  What else could she do? If Max’s lawyer was here, she couldn’t see him. She’d told Sam what she thought. There was nothing left for her to do but go home, as instructed.

  She let out a sigh. “Okay.”

  “Let me take you out the back way and see you safely to your car. Those reporters can be vultures sometimes.”

  Oh, how well she knew that. They’d hounded Dylan relentlessly when he’d been questioned about Angelina’s murder.

  They ducked out the back door. No sign of any reporters.

  A stillness hung in the air like a foreboding of evil. But evil had already descended upon Loomis, and it looked like it planned to stay awhile.

  At her car, Ava smiled. “Thanks, Sam.”

  “No worries.” He turned and walked back to the door.

  A car screeched into the lot, making him spin around and freeze.

  Lenore Pershing slammed her car into Park in the middle of lot, not even bothering to park in a space. She focused on Ava. “This is all your fault. All yours.”

  TWENTY

  Shock held her tongue still. Ava could only stare at Lenore Pershing with wide-eyed wonder. The woman had lost her mind.

  And she looked the part—hair flying out from her head, smeared makeup down her face and tattered sweatpants and T-shirt. She looked like an escapee from a mental institution. Not at all the image she’d worked for years to perfect.

  She pointed a finger at Ava as she advanced. “This is all your fault. You turned on my boy.”