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

figured out. He’s bound to find out that Jack was here sooner or later, and if you hold out on him, it’s going to make you look guilty. You don’t want that, do you?”
    Amy shook her head, looking worried. “You’re probably right, Anna, I should tell him, but it’s just that the sergeant’s so scary. I’m afraid to talk to him. Please, can you be here when I tell him?”
    She stared imploringly into my face, and I did a mental eye roll. I’d never seen anyone look so helpless before. What the hell, I’d help Amy if she told Tremaine the truth. The closer the sergeant got to finding the killer, the better off I’d be.
    “Sure, Amy, I can do that for you,” I said. “I’m sure that he’ll appreciate your help, and it’ll look better if you volunteer the information.”
    “You’re right, Anna. Can we call him right now and get it over with?”
    And that’s how I ended up having a three-way conversation with the last woman to ever sleep with my ex-husband and the cop investigating his death. Actually, the conversation between Tremaine and Amy was pretty amazing to watch. When she had been alone with me, Amy had radiated a helpless, child-like quality. With Tremaine, that quality somehow amplified into full-blown, pheromone-rattling sex appeal. Amy was like a real-life Jessica Rabbit. When Tremaine arrived, she somehow managed to squeeze him onto the bench beside her. She was so close to him, he had to keep his elbows down while he was taking notes to avoid jabbing her in the ribs. It was amusing to watch him trying to maintain a professional demeanour with Amy being so openly seductive.
    “I guess I got confused as to which day you were talking about when you dropped by before, Sergeant Tremaine,” she was saying. “But then Anna came over for a manicure and we started talking about Jack. I told her that Jack was here with me on the afternoon he died. She thought it was really important to tell you. Jack was a sweet, dear man, and I would do anything to help you catch the person who killed him.” She stared up into his eyes like he was the woodsman come to save her from the big, bad wolf. Tremaine glanced down into her upturned face; at that angle, it would have been impossible for him to miss the magnificent cleavage so amply displayed by her low-cut t-shirt.
    “Very admirable, Ms. Bright,” he said, a little smile playing at his lips.
    “Please call me Amy, Sergeant Tremaine.”
    “Of course. Now you mentioned that you have some of Mr. Nolan’s clothing?”
    “Yes, sir, I put it in a bag for you.” She turned and picked up a plastic grocery bag containing the clothes that had escaped the fire. “Here it is.”
    “Ms. Nolan,” Tremaine said, turning to me, “Ms. Bright claims your ex-husband was wearing a diamond and ruby ring when he left here last Thursday. Are you certain that Mr. Nolan was not wearing that ring when you discovered his body?” He waited for my answer, the smile completely gone from his face now.
    “Yes, Sergeant, I’m sure that he wasn’t wearing the ring.”
    “And from Ms. Bright’s description, you believe that it was the same ring you gave Mr. Nolan on the night before your wedding?”
    “Yes, Sergeant.”
    “Very interesting. Ladies, thank you for your help. I’ll take the clothing with me and have it checked by forensics, although I doubt we’ll find anything since Ms. Bright laundered the clothes. By the way, would you mind dropping by the station tomorrow, Ms. Bright, to provide us with your fingerprints? It would help the investigation.”
    “I’d be happy to do that for you, Sergeant,” she said, practically crawling into his lap.
    “Thank you,” he said, scrambling to his feet and tucking the notebook into his jacket. Amy got up, too, and leaned in toward him.
    “Ms. Nolan, are you leaving now?”
    I glanced at my watch. It was going on 9 PM. “Yes, Sergeant, it’s getting late.”
    “Let me give you and Wendy a lift home.”
    “That’s not