Free Framed For Murder (An Anna Nolan Mystery) by Cathy Spencer

but I couldn’t think of a way to ask Magdalena.
    “Let’s see,” she said, staring off into space while she collected her thoughts. “He began by asking about your work habits. I told him that you were reliable. Then he asked if I had overheard any telephone conversations or observed anything to indicate that you were in contact with your ex-husband. I told him no. Finally, he asked if I was acquainted with your son. I told him that I had met him once, but very briefly. That was the gist of it.”
    “That’s all? That’s not much,” I said, delighted with my boss’s discretion. Tremaine wouldn’t find anything damning in that tidy little exchange.
    She considered me. “I’m sure that this investigation must be quite stressful for you, Anna. Do you require any time off work?”
    “Thank you for asking, but no, not at this point. Of course, they’re sure to call me as a witness when there’s a trial.”
    “Very likely. Well, please keep me informed of any disruptions to your work schedule.”
    “Yes, I’ll do that, Magdalena, and thank you again, very much.”
    “You’re welcome.” She pulled a file from her desk tray, and I gathered that I was dismissed. As I stood, Magdalena looked up at me. “Sergeant Tremaine seemed very astute, Anna, and cautious. I’m sure that he will exhaust all possible avenues of investigation before coming to a conclusion.”
    What was this? Was she trying to reassure me? “Yes, he seems to know what he’s doing,” I responded.
    She nodded before returning her attention to the file. I left her office feeling a little better; a least Magdalena seemed to be on my side. Perhaps there was an upside to this horrible mess.
     
     
    Chapter Nine
     
    I stewed about the case on the drive home that night. Magdalena’s deduction that the murderer had left Jack’s body where Wendy and I would find it suddenly made the murder a whole lot more personal. Someone was trying to frame me. Worse, someone was trying to frame me who knew my habits. That meant that the killer was either someone I knew or someone who had been watching me. My heart rate quickened and I tightened my grip on the steering wheel as I wrestled with that idea.
    The murderer also had to be someone who benefitted from Jack’s death, or someone who hated him enough to kill him. I couldn’t think how anyone other than me benefited from his death; Jack didn’t have much of anything. As to hating him, that was a definite possibility. His whole life had revolved around acting and women. Jack had been a womanizer, and “cherchez la femme” definitely seemed to apply to his murder. But I had been out of touch with him for four years. What I needed to know was what Jack had been up to and who he had been doing it with since our separation.

Clive had talked about Jack sleeping with some of the women on the movie set, particularly Amy Bright. I didn’t know the movie people, but I did know Amy well enough to say hello to her. Maybe I should follow Miss Marple’s example and talk to a few likely people about Jack. I could get some inside information from the movie folk that they wouldn’t want to share with the police. If I passed it on to Tremaine, he might be impressed by how cooperative I was being, plus I might find something that would help him solve the case. It was better than hiding out in my house, waiting to see if Tremaine was either going to find Jack’s killer or tighten a noose around my neck. I could begin by going over to Amy’s house on the pretext of wanting a manicure. She would know that I was married to Jack, and I could steer the conversation around to his murder. Yes – I had a plan! It felt good to be able to do something to forward the investigation.
    When I got home, I ate supper and took Wendy out for a walk. I wanted it to look as if I just happened to be passing by Amy’s house when I remembered that I needed a manicure. I wouldn’t be able to get much information out of her if she was