Chapter 5
Saturday morning the telephone woke me up. I raised my head to squint at the clock-radio beside my bed. It was eight o’clock.
“Hello?” I mumbled.
“Anna Nolan?”
“Yes, who’s this?”
“Mrs. Nolan, my name is Larry Hubert. I’m a reporter with the Calgary Record. I want to do a background story on your ex-husband – a look at his personal life, his family and friends – that sort of thing. Can I ask you some questions?”
“No comment,” I said, banging down the phone. I had no desire to be quoted as the “grieving ex-wife” in the newspaper. What a hell of a way to be woken up. I got out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to see if Ben was still there. The bed had been made, and he was already gone.
I decided to lay low that day and avoid people, so I drove to a grocery store I occasionally use at the south end of Calgary to buy my weekly supplies. While waiting in line at the check-out, I picked up the Saturday paper and saw the headline, “Actor Murdered During Local Film Shoot,” sprawled across the front page. Beside the article was a picture of Jack taken about ten years ago, probably at a film premiere, judging by the tuxedo and the winning smile he always used for the press. Scanning the article and following the story to page two, I saw my name mentioned as his “former wife.” It said that Jack’s body had been discovered on Wistler Road by a “passerby,” and that the investigation was ongoing. Thank heaven the police hadn’t disclosed me as the passerby to the reporters. Happily, Ben’s name was omitted from the article altogether.
I tossed the newspaper into my cart and checked out of the store as quickly as I could before heading back to Crane. As upset as I was, I couldn’t help noticing that it was a beautiful day, warm and windy with a Chinook cloud stretched low and grey across the snow-etched mountains. I itched to get outside for a long ramble, but spent the afternoon industriously cleaning the house. Poor Wendy didn’t get a walk until after nightfall when I figured there’d be nobody out on the streets to recognize me. We had broken from our routine; I avoided the walk into the countryside now. I just didn’t have the stomach for it anymore.
As we returned to the house after our walk, I saw a strange car parked in my driveway and a man I didn’t recognize sitting on my porch bench. I slowed down, reining Wendy in beside me. I sure hoped it wasn’t that newspaper reporter who had called this morning. We advanced cautiously until I could make out Steve Walker in the light from my porch lamp. Relieved, I waved and strode up the front walk to my house.
“Evening, Steve. I didn’t recognize you at first,” I said. He was out of uniform in a pair of jeans and a light blue shirt. Wendy wiggled up to him, and he bent down to pat her while I plopped onto the bench beside him. He lifted his head, and I could see that his expression was grim. My stomach sank. “What can I do for you?” I asked warily.
“We got the coroner’s preliminary report back today,” he said. “I thought I’d come by to tell you about it rather than asking you to the station. Nice night – want to talk out here?”
“Sure,” I replied. “I appreciate you coming by the house. What did you find out?”
“Mr. Nolan died from a single 45-calibre bullet through the heart. And he didn’t die where you found him – his body was moved, although there wasn’t enough evidence to show where he had been murdered. The coroner estimates the time of death between six and nine. I called May Weston and Erna Dombrosky, and they both swore that you were sitting in the library with them from six to seven thirty.”
“That’s great news. Now you can count me out. I came straight home after the meeting. I wouldn’t have had time to kill Jack and move his body.” But, peering into Steve’s face, I could see that he was still worried.
“Maybe. You could have killed him if you had done it right after the meeting. You had an hour and a half.”
“Less than that, unless I killed him at my house, which I didn’t do. It was a quarter to eight by the time I got back from the library. I left my car at home and walked over to the library, remember? So I would have had a little over an hour, tops. Hardly enough time to have met Jack, killed him, and moved his body.”
Steve sighed. “It sure would help if someone had come to the door while you were at home and could vouch for you being there.” I shook my head and looked away. “Well, it wouldn’t hurt if you volunteered to let the forensics squad go over your house, just to rule it out as the murder scene. And your car, too, since Mr. Nolan’s body was moved.”
I raised my eyebrows but swallowed back my response, which was to tell him to get a search warrant. How could the police seriously suspect that I had killed Jack? What about a motive and an adequate amount of time to have murdered him? But I reconsidered, deciding that I’d gain more by co-operating.
“No problem. They can do it anytime – tomorrow, if you like. I know from the mystery novels I’ve read that it’s almost impossible to destroy traces of blood from porous surfaces.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “Mystery novels. Things don’t get solved as neatly as they do in books, you know.”
I rolled my eyes right back at him. “I know that. I live in the real world. I even know that crimes don’t always get solved.” Steve nodded.
“What about motives?” I said. “Have you thought about who had the strongest motive for killing Jack?” His eyes darted to me and flicked away again. “No – me? You’re kidding. What reason could I possibly have had for killing Jack after all these years?”
“It was no secret how you felt about your ex-husband. I remember overhearing Erna tell you that she’d seen Mr. Nolan on TV last fall. You made it pretty clear then that your ex was a jerk, and that you were glad to be rid of him.”
“Yes, I remember the conversation, but so what? Lots of people think their exes are jerks.”
“Okay, but let’s look at it from a police perspective.” Steve stood up and began to pace across my eight-foot wide porch. “Jack Nolan was found dead out on Wistler Road, and you’re the only known connection he had to Crane. What was he doing in Crane that night, Anna? Was he trying to see you again – or maybe Ben? Did he think that Ben was still living with you? You keep saying that you hadn’t talked to your ex-husband since the divorce.”
The last thing I wanted was to drag Ben into the investigation. I almost asked Steve if he had checked on Amy Bright’s whereabouts that night, but I didn’t want him to think that I was trying to deflect suspicion by accusing Amy. Instead, I leaned back on the bench and crossed my legs, trying to look nonchalant. “I think you’re on a bit of a fishing expedition there, officer,” I said.
Steve gave me a hard look. “Here’s another possibility. Maybe you arranged for someone to kill him.”
I snorted and straightened up. “You mean, like a hit man?”
Steve stopped pacing and sat back on the bench beside me. “Don’t laugh. It’s a genuine possibility. You have friends.”
“Yeah, I can just see seventy-nine-year-old Erna Dombrosky going after my no-good ex-husband with a .45 because he cheated on me four years ago.”
“Or, you could have paid someone to do it. Look, Anna, I’m trying to warn you here. Don’t think that you’re not under serious suspicion just because we haven’t arrested you yet.” I stiffened. “Number one: you had a motive for killing Mr. Nolan. He cheated on you for years, and you wanted revenge. Number two: he called you that evening, even though you swore he hasn’t spoken to you for four years. Number three: there’s at least an hour and a quarter of your time unaccounted for that night. No,” he said as I started to protest, “being home by yourself doesn’t count. And number four: I found you standing over the body.”
Okay, I was getting riled. I’d been helpful up until then, but he was talking crazy about hit men and arresting me. I swivelled around until our knees were touching.
“Look, Steve, I already explained how I found Jack’s body. Yes, that creep cheated on me repeatedly during our marriage, so I divorced h
im. But I fell out of love with Jack years before our marriage ended, and I was glad to be free of him. I didn’t want anything more to do with him, and I never saw him again or spoke to him after the divorce. I didn’t kill him, and I certainly didn’t ask anyone to kill him for me. That’s it. That’s all I know.” I jabbed him in the chest to emphasize my point.
Steve grabbed my wrist. “Anna,” he said in a threatening tone. That was enough for Wendy, who had climbed to her feet during my speech. She barked and grabbed Steve’s arm between her teeth. “Shit!” he yelled.
“Wendy, bad girl! Let go!” I shouted, whacking her on the shoulder. She released Steve, ducked her head, and crawled under the bench. I’d had her since she was a puppy, and she had never attacked anyone in her life.
“Steve, I’m so sorry,” I said, springing to my feet as he jumped up. Lights snapped on next door, and I saw Betty Hiller, my neighbour, peering out from her front door. “It’s okay, Betty,” I called, waving before turning back to Steve. He was examining his shirt sleeve. As I looked over his shoulder, I could see a couple of small punctures in the fabric.
“It’s alright. I don’t think she even broke the skin,” he said, sparing me a glance. Then he turned to my dog and said, “Gee, Wendy, I thought we were friends.” He squatted down beside her and held out his hand. She glanced at me with big eyes, the whites showing around the irises, before looking back at him.
“It’s okay, Wendy,” I said in a reassuring voice. She came out from under the bench to sniff Steve’s hand.
“Good girl,” he said, scratching behind her ear. Her tail waved and she relaxed.
“Steve, I’m really sorry. I’ll pay to replace your shirt.”
“Never mind. We were both getting a bit excited. I’ll let it go this time, but just make sure that she never attacks anyone again. There could be some serious repercussions if she did. Unofficially, though, I’m glad that she defended you,” he said with a small smile.
“Yeah, too bad she wasn’t around when I was married to Jack.”
“He didn’t . . . .” The smile faded and he put a hand on my shoulder.
“No, he never touched me,” I hastened to assure him. “I never had that kind of trouble with Jack.” I didn’t want to give Steve any false ideas about Jack being a wife-beater.
“Good, because I’d hate to hear of anyone mistreating you.” He stared into my eyes for a moment, long enough to make me uncomfortable, before removing his hand. “I’m going now, Anna, while everything’s still friendly. But what I said before still stands. Stick around town so that you’re available for questioning. And if you can think of anything that might help the investigation, give me a call.”
“Will do, and thanks, Steve. I’m glad that you’re not upset about Wendy.”
He paused to look down at her. “Nah, I love dogs, and she’s a peach. Bye girl. Bye Anna.” He nodded and left the porch while I took Wendy inside the house. She had a big, long drink, and then I gave her a jerky treat. Talk about mixed messages, but she had just defended me, and I was grateful.
“I think you’ve got the right idea, girl,” I said, heading for bed with her following me down the hallway. “Men are just trouble.”
Framed for Murder Page 5