Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery)

Chapter One

Her pleading eyes stared at me, soft, warm, and compelling, trying to bend me to her will.
How could I deny her any longer? Sighing, I threw down my book and stood up.

"Time for your walk, Wendy."

She jumped to her feet, bottom wiggling with delight, and raced for the front door. My own footsteps were less eager. I slipped on a jacket, snatched up my keys, and together we headed out into the cool October night.

Turning away from the rest of the houses, we followed the road into the country.
It was a small town and Wistler Road was always deserted at night, so I let Wendy wander off-leash. The road was slick from an earlier rain, and damp leaves squelched underfoot. I might have been worried about walking alone on a dark country road almost anywhere else, but Crane was the safest place I had ever known. Still, it wouldn’t do to take a tumble on this moonless night.

I heard Wendy snuffling and digging at something up ahead in the bush.
Removing the slim flashlight I always carried on our bedtime walks, I shone the beam in her direction, afraid that she had found something disgusting to roll in just before bed. Nothing like having to deal with a stinking, soaking-wet pet when all you wanted to do was crawl into bed.

“What did you find, girl?” I called.
The noise stopped, and I waited for her to pop out of the trees and trot back to me. She didn’t appear.

“Come here, Wendy,” I called.
All was still, and then I heard a piercing howl that made my hair stand on end and my breath catch in my throat. It was a primitive, uncanny sound, and it unnerved me on this lonely stretch of road.

“Wendy, what’s gotten into you?” I muttered.
I stepped up to the trees and peered into the dense shadows.

“Wendy?”
She whined softly, and I sidled between the trees, picking my way through last year’s undergrowth. She was up ahead in a small clearing.

“Come on, girl,” I commanded.
Wendy lowered her head and nosed at something on the ground. I trained my beam downward and jumped. It was a man. He was lying face down, dressed in jeans and a black leather jacket, his arms lying straight beside his body. He wasn’t moving.

“Hello?” I called, “are you alright, Mister?”
There was no response. I wanted to turn and run, but forced myself to creep closer for a better look. Taking a deep breath, I crouched down beside him. His hair was dark and wavy with silver flecks, but I couldn’t see his face. Wendy leaned against me and nudged my neck with her wet nose. All I could hear was my own pulse roaring in my ears. I reached out to touch the man’s hand, and snatched my own back again. His skin was cold, too cold. I knew that I should check to see if he was still breathing, but the thought of turning him over repulsed me. Sick with dread, I reached for his shoulder and rolled him over anyway.

I gasped and sprang back a few steps, horrified when his eyes seemed to stare straight up into mine.
Wendy barked and shot past me through the trees. I took a few deep breaths and shone the light full into his face.

“Holy shit,” I whispered.
Sculpted cheek bones, blue eyes, a generous mouth. It was Jack.

I stared down at him.
My ex-husband, whom I hadn’t seen for four years, was lying dead beside this country road, and I didn’t have a clue how he had got there.

Looking past his face, I spotted a hole in the front of his jacket, right over the chest.
I pulled the jacket open with hands that wouldn’t stop trembling. The grey shirt beneath it had a big patch of dried blood spread across the front. I stumbled back a step, a wave of nausea overwhelming me.

Something crackled in the undergrowth behind me, and I whirled around.
A brilliant light flashed in my face and blinded me. I threw up an arm to shield my eyes, but the light dropped and inched along the ground, coming to rest over Jack’s body. I pointed my own light at the black shape advancing toward me. Wendy crept toward him with a menacing growl, her jowls dragged back over her teeth, but the man didn’t budge an inch.

“Anna Nolan, what the hell did you do?” he asked.

Chapter Two

I sighed with relief as I recognized Steve Walker, one of our local RCMP officers. Then the impact of his words cut through my mind like a slap in the face.

“What?
What are you talking about? I didn’t have anything to do with this.”

Steve bent to examine the body.
I tried to slip past him, wanting to escape this horrible sight and let the police deal with it, but Steve grabbed my arm and spun me around.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded.
Steve was younger than me, in his late twenties, tall and good-looking with a slow grin and a low-boiling point, but he was all cop as his eyes delved into mine.

“Go to hell,” I said as I tried to jerk my arm out of his grip, but he held me fast.
We glared at each other as Wendy slunk up to my side, still growling.

“Control your dog, Anna.”

“Wendy, sit,” I said, looking down at her. She hesitated, and sat. “Good girl,” I said, patting her head with my free hand before turning back to Steve. “Now what?”

“Now, you tell me what’s going on here.”
He let me go, and I rubbed my sore arm. Steve and I ate together at The Diner with some of the other locals, and I was inclined to like him. Now, I calculated how best to handle him.

“There’s not much to say.
I was taking Wendy for a walk and she found him. He was dead when I got here.”

Steve shone his flashlight back over the body.
“I don’t recognize him,” he said. “Do you?”

I hesitated, wondering how much to give away, and Steve shot me a suspicious look.

“Yeah, I know him,” I said, letting out a deep breath. “It’s my ex-husband, Jack Nolan.”

Steve inhaled sharply through his teeth.
“What’s he doing here, Anna?”

“Steve, I have absolutely no idea.”

“What do you mean? What’s he doing here in Crane?”

“I mean that I haven’t seen or heard from Jack in years.
I have no idea why he’s here.”

Steve’s face was grim as he thought for a moment. “Let’s go back to my cruiser,” he said.
“I’ve got to call for back-up.” He indicated that I should precede him, so Wendy and I marched ahead through the trees.

The brilliant red and blue cruiser lights sliced through the darkness at the side of the road.
Steve unlocked the back door, and I waited for Wendy to hop inside before climbing in behind her. Steve shut us in and crawled into the front seat to call for back-up. When he had finished, he turned around to stare at me through the metal grill that separates the officers from their “guests.”

“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.

“We got an anonymous tip that something suspicious was happening out on Wistler Road. I drove by and heard a dog howling in the bush. When I pulled over, your dog burst out of the trees, barking like crazy. By the time I recognized her, she had turned tail and run back in. I followed her, and there you were with the body.” He paused, glancing out the window at the enveloping trees. “Look, Anna, this is going to take awhile. The forensics squad will be along in a few minutes, and I’ll have to take them back to the crime scene. You’re going to have to sit tight until I’m done, and then I’ll take you into the station to make a statement.”

I stared at him, my jaw aching from the effort of trying to stop my teeth from chattering.
The impact of Jack’s death, plus my horror at being implicated in it, were hitting me hard.

“Alright, Steve.”

He studied me. “Are you okay, Anna? You look pretty shaky.”

“I guess it’s colder tonight than I thought.”

“Or maybe you’re going into shock. Wait a minute.” Popping open the trunk, he got out of the car and fetched a blanket. “Here, wrap yourself in this,” he said, opening the back door and handing it to me.

“Th-thanks,” I said, not trusting myself to look at him.
I didn’t want to admit how much finding Jack’s body upset me, to him or to me. Jack and I were old history.

Steve nodded and leaned against the side of the car until another cruiser sped up, lights flashing, and pulled in behind us.
Steve walked back to confer with his colleagues. A few minutes later, three officers climbed out of the vehicle and began unpacking equipment. A woman officer erected orange cones and flashing lights in the middle of the road; she glanced at me on her way back to the car. I stared straight ahead, refusing to make eye contact. Another vehicle pulled in behind them, and a man got out carrying an official-looking black bag. He joined the others, and together they donned white forensic suits. Steve led them back into the bush, their powerful flashlight beams bouncing against the tree trunks until they disappeared.

I collapsed against the seat, shaking all over, the memory of my ex-husband’s dead face haunting me.
Wendy leaned against me, and I hugged her tight for comfort. What was Jack doing in Crane, anyway? Did he have an acting job nearby?

It was his acting career that had brought us to the Foothills of Alberta in the first place.
Four years ago, Jack had been filming a movie in the nearby village of Longview. Longview was small and housing had been pretty limited in those days, so we had rented a neat little cottage in Crane. I had loved the cottage the minute I’d seen it, a onestory bungalow with ivy clinging to weathered wood siding and a pretty rose garden out front. The location was ideal; on the outskirts of town with lots of privacy and access to long walks in the countryside. The shoot was going to last for a few months, so we enrolled our son, Ben, in the local high school just as he was ready to start grade ten. Then my Aunt Sharon died and left me the queenly inheritance of $93,000. We had been getting by on Jack’s acting jobs with me picking up whatever temp work I could find, so I was thrilled to have some financial security at last.

When the inheritance cheque arrived, Jack, Ben and I went out to an expensive steak house to celebrate – just the three of us, with none of the usual movie crowd around.
That meal was my last happy memory of Jack. We laughed a lot, and Jack and I got pretty friendly later that night after Ben had gone to bed. When I woke up the next morning, I was feeling more optimistic about our marriage. Maybe having the money would take some of the pressure off our relationship. I made pancakes for my two men and kissed them both goodbye before walking into town to do some shopping.

But while standing in line at the bank later that morning, I overheard a movie extra telling her friend about an affair Jack was having with one of the film’s stuntwomen.
I shouldn’t have been surprised; Jack had cheated on me religiously during the span of our seventeen-year marriage. This time was different, though. I had a nest egg, thanks to my wonderful aunt, and it would tide Ben and me over until I could find a decent job. Crane was as good a place as any to put down roots, so I made a beeline for the loan manager’s office to talk about mortgages right then and there. Later, when I got home, I called the owner of our house to see if she was interested in selling. A chunk of my inheritance money went into a down payment on the house, and when Jack left town at the end of the shoot, Ben and I stayed on.