Framed for Murder

by Cathy Spencer

  Chapter 19

  I picked up a couple of medium pizzas before leaving Calgary so that Ben and I could each have our favourite kind – the “works” for me and “Greek” for Ben – and was feeding Wendy when he arrived. Ben made use of my washing machine, and then we chatted about what had happened during the week since seeing each other at the funeral. I watched Ben closely, trying to diagnose his emotional health because I was feeling guilty about not revealing my lie concerning the made-up affair. Ben seemed fine to me, at least superficially, but we were both trying to keep the mood light. The murder investigation seemed to be making us both wary of each other.

  “Hey, Mom, are you okay?” Ben asked during our after-dinner walk. “You seem kind of weird tonight.”

  “Weird? That’s a strange thing to say. What do you mean?” I asked, keeping an eye on Wendy as she crept toward a squirrel sitting on the ground nibbling a pine cone. The squirrel scampered up a tree and chattered at Wendy from the safety of its branch twelve feet high in the air. Wendy plunked down at the base of the tree and stared up at her.

  “I don’t know, it feels like you’re uncomfortable or something. Every time I look at you, you look away.” Either my son was more perceptive than I had thought, or I was being too transparent. I was going to have to learn to be a better liar. “Is this about the insurance money again?” he asked.

  I was glad to distract Ben with talk about money, but we ended up arguing over whether or not he should be taking money from me instead of borrowing it from the government.

  “Why don’t you just enjoy the money and stop worrying about me?” he said. “I’m already getting a fifty percent discount on tuition, plus I’m putting money aside this summer. I’ll be fine. I’ve got my whole life to pay off the student loans.”

  “Yes, but I don’t want you to have to pay off student loans for the rest of your life. Let me help you out. There’s enough money to pay off the mortgage and cover your bachelor degree. What do you want me to spend the money on – a trip around the world?”

  “Yes!” he replied. We still hadn’t come to an agreement by the time Ben left at 7:30. I was feeling tired, and since Wendy had already had her walk, I changed into my pyjamas and stretched out on the couch to watch a little TV. The telephone rang two hours later in the middle of a home improvement show, and I fumbled for the telephone on the end table beside me.

  “Hello?” I said.

  “Anna, it’s me,” a frantic voice replied.

  “Amy?”

  “Yes. You’ve got to come help me. Connie Primo is outside my house, and he’s trying to get in! I’m afraid.”

  “What?” I asked, sitting bolt upright. “What do you mean? What’s Connie doing?”

  “He was banging on my front door, but I peeked out the curtains and saw who it was and wouldn’t let him in. I think he saw me, Anna. He gave up for a few minutes, but then I heard him trying to get in the deck door. What should I do?”

  I jumped off the couch with the phone in my hand. “Don’t do anything, Amy. Stay inside the house and don’t open the door. I’ll be right over.” I ran into the bedroom to get my purse and then dashed to the front closet.

  “Oh, Anna, be careful,” she said. “He’s got such a temper.”

  “Don’t worry, Amy. I’m bringing Wendy. Turn on your porch light. We’ll come straight to your front door.” I cradled the phone against my shoulder and slid an arm into my coat.

  “Hurry, it sounds like he’s trying to break open the dining room window!” she shrieked.

  I snapped the leash on Wendy’s collar, and we dashed out of the house. Jumping into the car, we sped the few blocks to Amy’s house, ignoring the stop signs along the way. I skidded to a halt in front of her house, bracing my arm against Wendy to stop her from flying off the seat. Dragging her out of the driver’s door behind me, I slammed the door shut and locked it with a click of the remote. I scanned the street and saw Connie’s jeep parked a little way ahead. The jeep was empty.

  Opening the gate to Amy’s house, Wendy and I bolted for the front door. As we did, Connie came running around the side of the house.

  “Hey!” he shouted, charging across the lawn toward us. Wendy started barking and lunged at him, dragging me a few feet forward before I could brace myself.

  “What do you want, Connie?” I shouted over her barking. Connie backed up a step and scowled at me. “I don’t want you. I want to talk to your ditzy friend, but she won’t open the door.”

  Amy must have heard him because the door flew open and she stepped out onto the porch. She was dressed in shorts and a midriff-baring t-shirt, her feet bare.

  “Leave me alone, Connie,” she wailed. “Go home.”

  “Listen, I want to talk to you,” he yelled, barrelling toward the house. Wendy snarled and barked, lunging like a hooked fish on a line.

  “Stay away from her, Connie!” I shouted, sprinting after him. He made it to the porch before I did and grabbed Amy’s arm. She screamed, and I let go of Wendy’s leash. Wendy cannoned up the steps and leapt into the air. She crashed into Connie’s back and knocked them both over. I stepped over their thrashing bodies, snatched Amy’s hand, and hauled her up.

  “Get inside,” I said, shoving her toward the door. Connie had turned over and was holding Wendy at arm’s length as she tore at his clothes with her sharp claws.

  “Get your damn dog off me!” Connie shouted, and I seized Wendy by the leash and dragged her away, still snarling and barking. The neighbour’s porch light flicked on next door. Connie stumbled to his feet and backed away from us, the front of his jacket ripped.

  “What do you want, Connie?” I asked. “Down, Wendy,” I ordered. She obeyed but kept growling. As I rubbed her back, I could feel the tense muscles beneath her coat.

  Connie held his leather jacket up in front of him. “Look at that! Look at what she did to my jacket,” he shouted.

  “You’re lucky you had it on,” I said. “You still haven’t told me. What are you doing here?”

  “Karen and I just got back from the location shoot. Amy was in my house last Saturday and stole my gun.” He looked past me and shook his fist at the house. “I want my gun back, you crazy bitch,” he bawled. I turned and saw Amy still standing in the doorway, shaking.

  “I didn’t take your gun,” she said in a tremulous voice.

  “Oh, yeah? You’re lying. I had the gun out last week to clean it, and no one’s been in the house since then except you, me, and Karen. You were acting real strange at the house last Saturday, and Karen and I heard you come back inside while we were upstairs. I know you’ve got it.”

  “I don’t have it. Karen was with me the whole time I was inside the house. She would have seen me if I had taken it. And I didn’t come back inside. I left as soon as you fixed my car.”

  Connie was about to say more when we heard the wail of a siren. A cruiser, its lights flashing, flew down the street toward us. It careened to a stop across the street, and Steve Walker sprang out. Amy moaned, and as I turned to look at her, I caught a glimpse of a white-haired woman peeking at us from the house next door.

  “Steve, I’m glad you’re here,” Connie shouted as Steve strode up the front lawn. “I want these two arrested,” he said, pointing at Amy and me, “and I want her dog put down. It attacked me. Look what it did to my jacket.” He held it up in front of him for Steve to see.

  “Calm down, Connie,” Steve said, holding up his hands as he climbed the porch steps. “I’m Constable Walker, ma’am,” he added, introducing himself to Amy. “Someone called in a complaint about a domestic disturbance. Now, what’s this all about?”

  The radio clipped to his belt squawked and he answered it. “Yeah, I’m at Ms. Bright’s house right now. No, no back-up required.” He looked at me. “Anna, you want to tell me what’s going on here?”

  “She’s got my gun,” Connie broke in, pointing at Amy. “She stole it out of my house. I want you to get a warrant and search her place for it.
”

  Steve turned to Amy. “Ms. Bright?”

  Amy left the safety of the doorway to creep closer to Steve. “It’s not true, Constable,” she pleaded, her eyes shining with tears. “I was visiting with Karen last Saturday, but I didn’t take Connie’s gun. I don’t even know where he keeps it. How could I? I never set foot in their house before then.” Steve gazed into her eyes, and then looked at Connie.

  “You got any proof?” he asked.

  Connie uncrossed his arms and waved them in Steve’s face. “Proof? It had to be her, there was no one else. And don’t go all soft over those baby blues of hers. She’s a thief, I tell you.”

  Steve spent the next half hour straightening things out. He convinced Connie not to press charges against Amy and me by pointing out that Amy could press trespassing and assault charges against him. He also reprimanded Connie for not filing a missing weapon report, and made him promise to come into the station first thing Monday morning to fill out the paperwork. Dissatisfied, Connie grumbled as he lumbered back to his car. Once he left, Amy threw her arms around Steve, startling him.

  “You were wonderful, Constable Walker,” she said, pressing up against him. “The way you took charge and fixed everything was like a dream. I was so afraid of Connie. Who knows what he might have done if you hadn’t come. Thank you ever so much.” She stood up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  “Just doing my job, Ms. Bright,” he said, grinning down at her.

  “Please, call me Amy,” she said, releasing him and linking her arm through his. I shook my head. Amy must have been ten years older than Steve, but that didn’t seem to bother either one of them. Actually, Steve being distracted by another woman was a good thing. Hopefully it would help him to forget about me. I was sitting on the porch steps beside Wendy, keeping my mouth shut and comforting my dog as Amy and Steve flirted some more. Finally, Steve looked down at me.

  “You got anything to add, Anna?” he asked. I stood up and stretched, Wendy springing to her feet beside me. No way I was going to tell him that I had the gun after all of this. I was eternally grateful to Amy that she hadn’t told on me to Connie or Steve.

  “No. I met Mr. Primo for the first time at The Spur the other night – you were there. He seemed a thoroughly unpleasant man then, and his behaviour tonight just confirms that.”

  “Yes, Connie might have broken in a window if Anna and Wendy hadn’t gotten here so fast,” Amy added.

  “Well, next time you have a problem, Amy, call the police,” Steve said. “Then there won’t be any misunderstandings about assault and people’s dogs.”

  “I’ll be sure to do that. I don’t suppose you have a business card in case I ever need you again, do you?”

  Steve reached into his shirt pocket. “Here you are,” he said with a smile. “And call me ‘Steve.’”

  “Thank you, Steve. I feel so much safer with this,” she said, tucking it into her cleavage. Steve’s eyes followed his card and lingered there. I nudged him with my elbow.

  “I’m going home now unless you need anything else from me,” I said.

  He untangled his arm from Amy’s and patted her hand. “No, that’s all I need for tonight, ladies. I’m afraid I have to be going, too. Good night, Amy,” he said, saluting her with two fingers.

  “Bye, bye Steve,” she replied, giving him a bright smile. We headed for the sidewalk together, Steve opening the gate for me with a bow. I smiled and shook my head at him as Wendy and I passed through. Wendy needed to relieve herself, so I paused to let her water the boulevard while Steve climbed into his cruiser. I heard the radio squawk, and Steve respond. I had just let Wendy into the car and was settling into the driver’s seat when he called me.

  “Anna!”

  I looked up and saw him crossing the street toward me. His expression was grim, and I felt a sudden foreboding.

  “What is it?” I asked as he walked up to my door.

  “It’s Ben. Tremaine’s just taken him in for questioning.”