Framed for Murder

by Cathy Spencer

  Chapter 12

  I was sitting at my desk the next morning when the telephone rang.

  “Kinesiology Department, Anna Nolan,” I chirped.

  “Hi Anna. It’s Charles Tremaine.”

  I hadn’t expected to hear his voice and was silent for a moment. “Are you there?” he asked.

  “Yes. Hi Sergeant,” I said, fearful of what he had to say.

  “I have a message for you from the coroner’s office. They said they’re ready to release your ex-husband’s body to you.”

  “Oh,” was all I could say. I had given some thought to funeral arrangements after I had discovered Jack’s body, but it had been driven right out of my mind by everything that had happened since then. Jack’s father was gone and his mother was back in Ontario in a seniors’ assisted-living facility. Aside from her, Jack had no close family other than Ben and me.

  “Normally a funeral parlour would take care of this for you. Have you contacted anyone?”

  “Actually, Sergeant, I haven’t. I know that I should have taken care of this already, but I guess I dropped the ball.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I talked with some of the constables before I called you, and they recommended Fergusons in southern Calgary. Do you know them?”

  “Yes, I’ve been to one of their services. They’re fine. Sorry, let me give them a call and I’ll take care of it.”

  Tremaine had their phone number ready and gave it to me. “Will you be holding a church service?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’d like to have a funeral at St. Bernadette’s in Crane, but I haven’t spoken to Father Winfield yet. Jack has a mother whose health isn’t very good. I thought about having Jack cremated and flying his ashes back to Ontario so that she can bury him in the family plot.”

  “Sounds like a good plan. It’s kind of you. Not everyone in your shoes would bother to do it.”

  “There’s no one else to do it, but thank you. I’ll make a call and take care of it. Thanks for your help, Tremaine. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome, Anna. Bye.”

  “Bye.” I hung up the phone and mused about the sergeant for a moment. He had been very considerate on the phone just now. Was there a nice guy underneath that cool exterior, or was he after something? I tucked that thought away while I looked up Jack’s mother in my address book. Carlene had always been kind to me, and I still sent her birthday and Christmas cards every year. I had broken the news of Jack’s death to her on the phone a few days ago, and it had been a heart-wrenching experience. She had cried and said that she couldn’t understand why anyone would murder her son and then dump his body alongside the road, of all places, and I was unable to comfort her with a reasonable explanation. She was calmer when I phoned her today, and grateful that I was sending her son’s ashes home. I felt very sad saying goodbye to this poor woman who had lost both husband and son in the course of her lifetime.

  I made two more calls: first to Ferguson’s to arrange for the cremation, and then to Father Winfield about the mass. I hadn’t talked to him about Jack’s death yet, although I assumed that he knew about it. He told me that he could perform the funeral the following Tuesday.

  “The sermon will be a bit sparse. I met your ex-husband when you and your family first moved to Crane, but I didn’t see much of him after that.”

  “No, he wasn’t much of a church-goer. I don’t expect you to say very much about him under the circumstances.”

  “Don’t worry, Anna. I have a stock sermon for this kind of situation. Ben will be coming, I assume?”

  “I sure hope so. He was pretty upset with his father before Jack died, so I’m not sure he’ll want to attend the funeral.”

  “That’s unfortunate, and hard on you. I hope to have a chance to talk with Ben after mass, if he comes. Will anyone else be attending, do you think?”

  “Well, Father, there really isn’t anyone else. I don’t want to invite the people from the movie set. They didn’t work with Jack for very long, and I don’t want them to come out of a sense of obligation. Jack’s mother isn’t well enough to travel, and he has no other family. The people here in Crane didn’t really know Jack, either. It might be just you and me, Father, unless Ben decides to come. I’m sorry to ask you to do this just for me, but I want to have a mass said for Jack. It wouldn’t be right to cremate him without praying over him. I hope you understand.”

  “I understand and I totally agree with you. Remember the parable of the shepherd who leaves his flock to go in search of a single lamb? Each of us is important in God’s eyes.”

  “Thanks for understanding. I’ll have Ferguson’s contact you about Jack’s ashes, and I’ll see you on Tuesday at ten.”

  Ben came for supper that Friday night, as usual. I had stopped at an Indian restaurant for take-out curry before leaving Calgary, so it took me a little longer to get home. Ben was already playing with Wendy in the backyard when I came in the door.

  “Hi honey, how are you?” I called, opening the sliding door onto the deck. Ben tossed a rubber ball to Wendy and turned to look at me. He seemed relaxed and in a good mood.

  “I’m starving. What’s for supper?”

  “Indian tonight, plus I’ve got some peanut-butter cup ice cream in the freezer for dessert.”

  “Great, my favourite. We’ll be right in. Come on, Wendy.”

  “You feed her and I’ll set the table.”

  We both avoided the subject of the murder while we ate dinner, and I didn’t mention the funeral until after dessert. Ben stared down at the table as I gave him the details, not saying a word until I was through.

  “I know where this is going, Mom.”

  “Where, honey?”

  “You’re going to ask me to come to the funeral.”

  “I’d appreciate it if you thought you could.” Ben didn’t say anything, and I sighed. “I know how you feel about your father, Ben, and how his murder must complicate things.”

  “You’d be wrong about that. Just because he got himself killed doesn’t make him a better father.”

  “No, it doesn’t. And I know that it was really hard all those years that he wasn’t there for you. I’m not going to give you a sermon on how much he really loved you, but I’m hoping that one day you’ll begin to remember the good times you had with your dad. Like the time he took you camping, or your sixth birthday party when he got your TV hero, Captain Eddy, to stop by. How about if I play the guilt card and ask you to come so that it won’t be just Father Winfield and me at the funeral? He wants to talk to you, by the way.”

  Ben sighed. “Oh great. Pastoral counselling.”

  “Yes. Anyway, give it some thought, and I guess if I see you at the funeral, I’ll see you.”

  “I’ll think about it, but I’m not promising anything.”

  “Fair enough. So, did you see your new girlfriend this week?” He rolled his eyes, and we went back to chatting about less controversial subjects.