Framed for Murder

by Cathy Spencer

Chapter 14

  Amy picked me up on Saturday morning, and we were at the Primos’ house by ten. “Okay, park where we parked last night – right there before that bend in the driveway,” I instructed after we turned into their lane. “I’ll get out and sneak up to the house through the bush. Give me ten minutes, and then pull up and park. I’ll be hiding in the trees just to the left of the house. I’ll wave when I’m ready, and you get out of the car and ring the doorbell. If everything seems okay once you’re inside, open the door for me and I’ll hide until you and Karen leave. How’s that – am I forgetting anything?”

  “It sounds fine, but I’m awfully nervous. What if Karen doesn’t want to go shopping with me?” Amy asked.

  “Well, if it doesn’t work out, don’t worry about it. We’ll think of something else. And don’t be nervous. Just concentrate on having fun with Karen. If you can get her to tell you where she and Connie were on the night of Jack’s murder, all the better – right?”

  “Okay, I’ll try. I promise I won’t let you down.”

  “Thanks Amy, I knew I could count on you. I’m going to get out now.” I peered through the car windows first to make sure that no one was around. “Good luck.”

  “Good luck,” I heard her whisper as I shut the door behind me and scurried into the bush beside the driveway. The ground was wet; the sun couldn’t penetrate through the thick trees, and the snow had only recently melted here. I was dressed in dark sweat pants and a brown jacket, hoping to blend in with the trees and fallen leaves. I had to negotiate my way through the bush where no path existed, watching the ground closely to make sure I didn’t trip over a root or a twig. My pants kept snagging on the undergrowth, making my progress slower than I had anticipated. I glanced at my watch a couple of times, hoping that Amy wasn’t getting impatient.

  Truthfully, I was pretty nervous myself. If I had told Amy that I was uncomfortable sneaking into the Primos’ house and going through their things, she would have backed out and refused to help me. I’m a fairly conservative, law-abiding citizen, after all. Maybe the law didn’t consider it a “break and enter” when someone opened the door for you, but I was pretty sure that Tremaine would consider that a technicality and make good his threat to haul me off to jail if I was caught inside the Primos’ house.

  I forced my way through to the trees beside the house and checked my watch again. Twelve minutes had passed, and there was no sign of Amy. Where was she? Damn, we should have synchronized our watches before we had split up.

  I heard a car approaching and peeked out from behind a tree to check. Yes, it was Amy. She parked the car in the driveway and sat inside, waiting for my signal. I waved at her, but she didn’t move. Maybe she hadn’t seen me? I waved more vigorously, but still she just sat there. What was she waiting for? If Karen had heard the car drive up, she was going to wonder why someone hadn’t come to the door by now.

  Never mind, Amy was getting out of the car. But instead of walking up to the house like she was supposed to, she leaned against the car and started scanning the trees. I stepped out from behind my cover and waved both arms over my head. This time she spotted me. Amy nodded, shoved back her shoulders, and marched up to the front door like she was going to her own execution. She looked so serious that I had to smile. She rang the bell, and then looked over her shoulder back at me. I pointed vigorously toward the door before ducking back behind my tree. Amy turned just in time to see Karen, dressed in jeans and a lilac shirt, open the door. Amy smiled and began talking while Karen listened and nodded from time to time. Amy finished her speech, and I held my breath, wondering if Karen would fall for it. Karen smiled and opened the door wide to let Amy inside, the door squeaking loudly as she did.

  I jumped up and down with excitement. My plan had worked! Amy was in! After a minute, the door squealed opened again and Amy stepped out onto the porch. She crouched over the door mat and appeared to be studying it. Had she dropped something? Finally she straightened and walked back inside, leaving the door ajar. Wow, Amy was slicker than I had thought. Even I had been fooled into thinking that she had lost something on the door mat, and I had been expecting some sort of a trick to leave the door open.

  Now it was my turn to go inside the house. I left the security of the trees and sprinted for the front porch. Climbing the stairs as noiselessly as I could, I tiptoed to the front door, flattened myself against the wall, and peeked inside. I could hear Karen’s voice coming from upstairs. Amy was waiting in the hallway. When she spotted me, her arms spiralled like a windmill, beckoning for me to come inside. I snuck through the door and closed it carefully; fortunately, it didn’t squeak this time. Amy made stabbing motions at a room across the hall and I hurried into it. It was an office with a large wooden desk in the middle of the room and a chair tucked in behind it. Amy watched from the doorway as I crawled under the desk and pulled the chair in as close as I could. The desk had a solid front, so I couldn’t see out, but no one could see in. I heard Karen coming down the stairs.

  “Found my purse, Amy,” she called. “Tell me, does this market have any cowboy art? My sister asked me to find her a picture with horses in it while I was in Alberta.”

  “Oh, sure, it’s got all kinds of horse pictures, with and without cowboys. I can’t believe you’ve never been to the market yet. It’s really popular. We should get a group together from the movie set and go. I know that they’d have a blast,” Amy said.

  “Whoa, wait a minute. Let’s just wait until I’ve seen it before you go making any plans.”

  Their voices trailed off and I heard the front door close behind them. A few minutes later, their car started up and drove away. I finally had the house to myself.

  I crawled out from under the desk and gazed around the room, looking for a likely hiding place for a gun. Studying the office walls, I peeked behind two framed pictures of hunting dogs for a safe, but no such luck – not that I would have been able to open a safe if I had found one.

  The desk drawers contained nothing but a package of printer paper and a couple of pens. The desk top held a computer and a printer, but nothing else. There was no desk calendar marked “meeting with Jack Nolan” on the day my ex-husband had died.

  I stopped to think. If I were renting a house, where would I hide something small? The woman of the house might think of hiding a gun or a ring in a canister of flour or maybe wrapped in foil in the freezer, but Connie wouldn’t do that for fear of Karen finding it. Of course, you wouldn’t have to hide a gun if you had always owned one. You could store it in a display case or inside an end table drawer.

  I took a tour of the first floor. It consisted of a living/dining room, kitchen, office, a closet with a stacked washer and dryer, and a powder room. There was a side table in the dining room, but it contained only table linens, candles, matches, and a deck of cards. Checking the closet by the front door, I remembered to look inside the coat pockets, but didn’t find anything. Next I tried the powder room. People were always taping things to the inside of the toilet tank in the movies, but still there was nothing.

  I had been in the house for about twenty minutes by now, and I was beginning to feel uneasy. Even though I knew it would be at least an hour before Karen and Amy could possibly come back, I had the creepy feeling that I was being watched through the downstairs windows. Making a lightning-fast inspection of the rest of the first floor, I hurried upstairs. It was a three-bedroom home, two of the bedrooms sharing a bathroom, and a master with an ensuite. I made my way carefully through the extra bedrooms, searching the bureaus, beds, and closets, but I came up empty. I investigated the main bathroom before turning my attention to the master.

  This was the most likely spot for Connie to hide something since it was so close to hand. Starting with the ensuite linen closet, I shook out all the towels and linens, but found nothing. The drawer in the bathroom cabinet was jammed full of Karen’s make-up things and hair brushes. Underneath the sink, I found a man’s toiletry bag. Crossing my fingers, I unzip
ped the bag. There was nothing in it but an electric razor and a travel soap container. The soap container rattled when I shook it, and I opened it eagerly, only to discover a shard of soap. Putting everything back the way I’d found it, I checked the medicine cabinet before moving on to the bedroom.

  The room had a large, double-doored closet with mirrors. I slid the left door open and discovered Karen’s side of the closet. Looking at all the clothes and shoes jammed inside, I decided that Connie wouldn’t risk hiding anything amongst Karen’s things. I slid the other door open and immediately spotted a zippered bag lying on the top shelf. Standing on tiptoe, I pulled the bag down and laid it on the bed. Unzipping it, I discovered a hand gun and box of ammunition. Bingo! Maybe this was the murder weapon. I stared at the gun with a great big grin on my face, but my excitement soon fizzled. I didn’t know anything about guns. Did this gun fire the right-sized bullet? Wait, what about the ammunition box? I knelt down beside the bed to have a better look at the box without actually touching it. “.45 ACP,” it said. All right! I didn’t know what “ACP” meant, but at least it was the right calibre bullet. And what were a cameraman and an actress doing with a gun, anyway? I jumped up and did a little happy dance. Connie was a possible suspect and he was in possession of a gun. Tremaine was still busy checking out Karen and Connie’s alibi, while I had already found a gun. I had beaten old stone face at his own game.

  In the middle of my excitement, I heard a noise in the driveway. It sounded like a car door slamming. How could that be? I checked my watch and saw that Karen and Amy shouldn’t be back for another fifteen minutes, at least. I ran across the room to the front windows and poked my head around the curtain. Connie was getting out of the car! Holy smokes, what was he doing home? I stared at him as he limped toward the house. His clothes were all muddy. He must have had an accident and come home to clean up. Damn it, that meant that he would come upstairs to his bedroom. Not only that, but Karen’s car was still parked in the driveway, so he would expect her to be at home. If she didn’t turn up, he would look for her.

  I ran back to the bed as the front door opened and closed. I had to get the gun bag back into the closet before he came upstairs. I hesitated, wondering what to do about the gun.

  “Karen, I’m home,” Connie shouted from downstairs. “I took a fall on the set and cut my leg. It’s bleeding – again. I need some clean clothes.” I could hear him moving around downstairs, looking for Karen. I opened the box of ammunition, snatched one of the bullets, and shoved it into my pocket. Maybe the police could tell if it was the murder weapon by testing the bullet?

  “Karen, are you upstairs?” he yelled. I froze for a moment, listening. Hell, he was already climbing the stairs. But what if the police had to have the gun the bullet was fired from to determine if it was the murder weapon? I didn’t know for sure, but the cops on TV had the gun tested, didn’t they? I could hear Connie at the top of the stairs. There was no more time. I grabbed the gun and shoved it inside my pocket, retrieving the bullet, and stuffing it down my bra. I didn’t want it falling out of my pocket and lying on top of the carpet where Connie could see it. I could hear him nosing around the other bedrooms, looking for Karen. Zippering the bag shut as quietly as I could, I ran on tiptoe to the closet, stuffed it back on its shelf, and eased the door closed. Connie was coming down the hallway toward the master. Looking around frantically for a place to hide, I bolted across the carpet, flopped onto the floor beside the bed, and wiggled underneath it just as he came into the room.

  “Are you in here?” he called. I lay still, holding my breath, my heart thudding in my chest. “Where is she?” he muttered, flipping on the overhead light and limping over to the closet. I turned my head sideways to watch his feet. His sneakers were all muddy, and he kicked them off without bothering to untie them. I heard cursing. His belt buckle jingled, and I watched as his pants hit the carpet. They were filthy and torn. He stepped out of them and left them in a heap on the floor. Groaning, he hobbled into the bathroom. The lights flicked on, and the linen closet bi-fold opened and closed. A few seconds later, he was running water in the sink. The water stopped, and I heard a sharp intake of breath. The medicine cabinet door squeaked open, and I heard him digging around inside. His injuries probably weren’t too serious or the movie people would have sent him to the hospital. I decided I’d better stay put in case he came out again in a minute.

  I had been so distracted by Connie that it took me a few moments to realize that someone was moving around downstairs. “Connie, are you home? What are you doing home so early?” Karen shouted. Oh great, just what I needed. Now they were both home. I heard someone talking to Karen downstairs and recognized Amy’s voice, too.

  Connie came limping out of the bathroom. “Karen? I’m in the bedroom. Where you been?” he yelled.

  Someone ran up the stairs and into the bedroom, dropping plastic bags and a wrapped package on the floor just inside the door. Karen said, “Amy dropped by and we went to the Farmer’s Market. What have you done to your leg?”

  There was a pause, and Connie said, “Uh, hi Amy.”

  “Oh for pity’s sake, get in the bathroom, Con,” Karen said. “Do you think Amy wants to see you in your underwear? You’re dripping on the carpet, too. What a mess.” She strode across the floor and herded him into the bathroom.

  “What was that – it looks like you bought a picture?” Connie said.

  “Yeah, I bought it for my sister,” Karen replied. I could hear a number of tissues being yanked from a box. “Here, dry your leg.”

  I wiggled to the edge of the bed and stuck my head out to see what was happening. Amy was standing beside the closet, facing the bathroom.

  “Amy!” I said in a sharp whisper. She started and looked around the room. “Down here,” I said. She looked down and spotted me on the floor. Her eyes grew huge.

  “Anna!” she squeaked before clapping her hand over her mouth. Connie and Karen were still clattering around in the bathroom.

  “How much was it?” Connie asked.

  “Was what?” Karen asked.

  “The picture – how much money did you spend?”

  “About a thousand,” Karen replied, sounding distracted. “What did you do, fall off a cliff? You’re really banged up.”

  “A thousand bucks! For your sister? Why can’t she buy her own damn picture?”

  “Because she wanted a Western picture for her family room, and they don’t have so many of them in Montreal.”

  Amy hurried over to the bed and bent toward me. “What are you doing down there?” she whispered. “You’ve got to get out of here right now!”

  I didn’t say anything, just whipped the gun out of my pocket with a big smile and waved it in her face. A second later, I wondered if it were loaded.

  “Anna!” she squeaked. We both heard the sound of heels clicking across the bathroom tile, and I jammed the gun into my pocket and dodged back under the bed as Amy whirled around.

  “You still here?” Karen said. “Sorry, I forgot about you. You better go. I gotta help my clumsy husband get cleaned up and back to work, and then I’ve got some lines to learn.”

  “Okay, Karen,” Amy said in an odd, strangled voice.

  Karen paused. “You look kind of funny. Something wrong?”

  “No, no, everything’s fine,” Amy said.

  “What’s the matter, you don’t like the sight of blood or something? Or is it Connie in his underwear that’s making you feel queasy? Not a pretty sight, I know,” she said with a cackle. Boy, that woman had an annoying laugh.

  “No, it’s not Connie. You’re right. I don’t like the sight of blood.”

  “Well, thanks for taking me to the market today. It was fun.”

  “You’re welcome. Maybe we can go again sometime.”

  “Sure. Call me. Maybe we’ll go out for a drink together. Bring Anna Nolan, if you like.” I heard a snort from the bathroom. “Shut up, Connie,” Karen yelled.

  Amy said, �
��Sure, I’d like that. And I’m so glad we found that painting for your sister. I’m sure she’ll like it, since she likes horses so much. The foal in the picture is so cute, and the background is really impressive. The cliff, I mean. With the mother horse standing on the cliff, you can almost feel the wind blowing through her hair – I mean her mane.” Amy sounded crazy, and I prayed that she’d get out of the bedroom before she gave me away.

  “Karen, come on. I need you in here,” Connie yelled.

  “Keep your pants on. I’m just saying goodbye to Amy,” Karen replied. I took the opportunity to stick my head out from under the bed and jerk it at Amy. Amy waved her hands in the air and grimaced before Karen turned back to her again.

  “Sorry, Amy, don’t have any more time to stand around and chat. See you later.”

  “Bye,” Amy said. She paused, and then left the room. I heard her walk down the stairs as Karen went back into the bathroom.

  “She gone now?” Connie asked.

  “Yeah, you can come out,” Karen replied. They came out together, Connie favouring his right leg. Karen said, “You’d better get dressed and go back to work. You said they may need you this afternoon.” I watched Connie’s feet approach the bed until he stopped and turned his heels to face me. I braced myself as he sat down heavily, the box spring sagging toward my face.

  “Help me, Mommy,” he said in a pathetic little boy’s voice.

  Karen sighed. “Sheesh, you’re such a baby.” She opened the closet door and I heard the clang of a wire hanger. “Here, put this shirt on,” she said. She must have tossed it to him because I heard her burrowing in the closet again. She walked back to the bed and said, “Here’s some pants.”

  After a moment, I heard a slap. “We don’t have time for that, Con, you’ve got to get back to work,” Karen snapped. I held my breath. I didn’t know what I’d do if Connie and Karen started fooling around on top of the bed.

  “You never have time,” Connie complained.

  “Oh shut up, you pig. We just did it last night.”

  “Yeah,” Connie said in a husky voice, “and you seemed to like it.” I heard a smack, and Karen squealed.

  “You were kinda manly last night, all grabby and take charge,” Karen said, kicking off her shoes. She sank down on the bed and the box spring brushed against my forehead, forcing me to turn my face sideways. Karen giggled and the bed creaked as their weight shifted. “Who’s my little cuddle bear?” she said in a girlish voice, then shrieked and giggled some more.

  The doorbell rang. Hallelujah, I was saved! Karen and Connie lay still on top of the bed. “Don’t answer it,” Connie said.

  They waited. The doorbell rang again. “I’m going to look out the windows and see who it is,” Karen whispered, the bed lifting and clearing my face. I heard her pad across the floor to the window. “It’s Amy,” she said after a moment.

  “Shit, what’s she doing back here?” Connie said.

  “She just looked up and saw me,” Karen said. “I’ve got to go down and see what she wants.” Connie groaned as Karen put on her shoes and walked out of the room. “Get dressed,” she ordered from the hallway.

  Connie cursed as he rolled around the bed, putting on his clothes. A minute later, Karen called from downstairs, “Con, Amy’s got car trouble. Come down and have a look.”

  I silently cheered Amy’s inventiveness as Connie got off the bed, shoved his feet into a pair of slippers, and left the room. A couple of minutes later, I heard them talking downstairs. Amy’s voice became high-pitched and insistent, Connie said something in a rumbling voice, the front door opened and shut, and everything was still.

  I wiggled out from under the bed, checking that the gun was still in my pocket, and ran down the hallway to the top of the stairs. Bending in half, I peered through the glass panels on either side of the front door. The hood of Amy’s car was raised and Connie was leaning into the engine. I heard him shout something, and then the car’s engine roared into life. I sprinted down the stairs and ran for the front closet, all the while listening to Amy speaking very loudly over the engine noise. I pulled open the closet door, jumped inside, and slammed it shut just as the front door opened again.

  “Stupid bitch. There was nothing wrong with her engine,” Connie muttered as he and Karen stepped inside. A horn tooted, and the car drove away.

  “She’s nice. Just not too bright,” Karen said.

  The door closed and everything was quiet in the hallway. After a minute, Connie said, “What say we go back upstairs, eh, pussy cat?” Karen giggled. The two of them headed back down the hallway and climbed the stairs to the second floor. I heard their footsteps overhead, and then nothing. Easing the closet door open, I listened for a moment before slipping out. I tiptoed to the front door and paused. Sometimes the door made a terrible squeak. Maybe I wouldn’t set it off if I didn’t open the door very far?

  I managed to open the door about a foot without any sound at all. Pressing my lips together, I inserted a shoulder into the space and tried to slip through. All went well until I got to my hips. I started inching the door open, squeezing my butt muscles together in hope of making it more compact. I was almost through, just a tiny bit more to go, when the damn door went “squeeeak.” I froze, holding my breath, waiting to hear if anyone noticed. All went well for about three seconds until Connie yelled, “Hey, who’s down there?”

  That was enough for me. I threw the door open and bolted for the trees alongside the house. I knew that Karen and Connie had an excellent view of the front parking area from their bedroom windows, and I didn’t want them to see me running down the driveway. Once in the trees, I skidded on some damp leaves, grabbed hold of a branch to steady myself, and kept on running. My pant leg caught on a twig and I had to rip a hole in it to free myself, but I didn’t care. I was in full flight mode. I saw the bend in the driveway up ahead and burst out of the trees, running through the gravel. My breath was rasping in my throat and I had a stitch in my side. I spotted Amy’s car parked at the bottom of the drive, Amy standing beside it with the driver’s door open. She jumped up and down when she saw me, and ran the rest of the way to meet me and give me a big hug.

  “I just about had a stroke when I saw you under that bed, Anna Nolan,” she cried, giving me a shake. Without waiting for a response, Amy grabbed my arm and pushed me into the car before darting around to the driver’s side and jumping in herself. She started up the engine, spun the car around, the tires spewing gravel, and skidded out onto the street without bothering to check for traffic. Fortunately, there weren’t any oncoming vehicles, but I was slammed against the passenger door because I hadn’t had time to fasten my seat belt.

  “Take it easy. Try not to kill us,” I complained, clicking the restraint into place. Glancing at her, I was just in time to see a fat tear slide down her cheek.

  “Amy, I am so sorry,” I said, feeling terrible. Her bottom lip started quivering. “Please don’t be upset,” I said. “It’s all over now, and no one got caught. You were so fantastic, coming up with an excuse to get Connie and Karen out of the house. I hid in the front hall closet until they went back upstairs, and then I snuck out. We did it! And, guess what? I think I may have found the murder weapon.” I took the gun out of my pocket to show it to her again.

  “Put that away,” Amy shrieked. “I hate guns.”

  “Okay, no problem. I’m sorry,” I apologized again, shoving it back into my pocket. Only then did it occur to me that I had been handling the gun with my bare hands. Groaning, I sank back into my seat, wanting to kick myself for being so stupid. I had panicked when I heard Connie coming down the hallway, and had picked up the gun without thinking.

  “What’s the matter?” Amy asked.

  “Nothing. I just did something incredibly stupid,” I said, glancing out the window.

  “Oh no,” she whispered, turning to look at me with frightened eyes.

  “No, nothing that bad. It’s just that I realized I’ve been holding the gun
with my bare hands.”

  Amy turned her attention back to the road. “So, now you’ve got your fingerprints on the gun.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered, “and maybe wiped Connie’s off, too. How could I have been so stupid? Everyone knows not to handle the evidence with your bare hands.”

  Amy shrugged. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Anna. You must have been terrified, trapped in the bedroom with Connie. I know I would have been. Besides, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

  I stared at Amy. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

  “Because there’s no way that Karen or Connie killed Jack.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “Because Karen told me what she and Connie were doing on the night that Jack was murdered. They’ve been having some problems, so Karen and Connie started seeing a marriage counsellor. They were with their counsellor in Calgary on the night that Jack was killed.”

  “Oh, just perfect,” I groaned, closing my eyes in exasperation. “I can’t believe it. After all the trouble I took to search their house, there was no reason to do it in the first place. All we had to do was have a heart-to-heart chat with Karen, and we would have known that they couldn’t have killed Jack.”

  “Yup,” Amy said, still watching the road. “But now you’ve got Connie’s gun.”

  I stared at her, and then reached into my pocket for the gun. What the hell was I going to do with it? I couldn’t possibly give it to Tremaine now that I’d ruined the fingerprints. I was going to have to get it back to Connie. But how? There was no way that I was going to sneak back into their house and replace it. Maybe I could just leave it on their doorstep in a brown paper bag? My mind reeled. How long would it take before Connie noticed that it was missing?

  A terrible thought occurred to me: what if Connie had gone for the gun just now when he thought that someone was breaking into the house? What if he had already discovered that it was missing? If that were the case, there was no possibility of returning the gun without his noticing.

  I moaned. “Amy, I am so sorry. This is about the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. I don’t know what got into me. Normally, I’m a pretty cautious person, you know? Well, up until a week ago when Jack got killed. It’s as if Jack’s death released some sort of insanity from deep down inside me. Breaking into the Primos’ house, kicking a police sergeant . . . .”

  Amy stared, her eyebrows lifted. “You kicked Tremaine?”

  “Yeah, well never mind about that – that’s the least of my worries. You have just brought me to my senses. I promise that I’ll never do anything this crazy again. Look, let me try to make it up to you. Are you hungry? I bet you haven’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Let me buy you lunch when we get back to Crane, okay? We’re almost there now.”

  “I don’t think so. I’m too upset to eat,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Please? Even if you can’t eat, how about a cup of coffee? Or a milkshake? The Diner makes great shakes.”

  Amy sighed. “Sure, Anna. Karen and I were going to have lunch at her place before this whole thing blew up. I guess I could try to eat something.”

  “That a girl. We’ll feel better after we’ve had something to eat,” I said as we drove into town. I tried for a positive spin on our little fiasco. “You know, when everything simmers down and the investigation is over, I bet we’ll laugh about this someday. As a matter of fact, when I think of the look on your face when you saw me under the bed, I could almost laugh now. It was pretty funny, don’t you think?”

  The look on her face warned me that I had gone too far. I shut my mouth, folded my arms over my chest, and kept quiet for the rest of the drive.