The Sunset Witness (5 page)

Simone introduced me to Joel who was the server I'd
shadow for the first night.  He wore black slacks and a white shirt with a
black bow tie and was my height.  I guessed he was a few years younger than I.
He reminded me of Justin Timberlake right down to the short, curly hairstyle. 
He said we'd "have each other's back," doing whatever needed to be
done if one of us was less busy than the other.

Joel's tables were the four next to the windows with
ocean views and the one next to the short wall to the right of the kitchen. 
Those tables routinely left the best tips because they had the best views, and
the one next to the kitchen had the best server access as we went in and out. 
My tables would be the remaining five.  I thought two of them actually had
better views of the ocean but the view could be blocked by someone dining at
the window tables.  The window tables were the first to fill.

We would bus the tables ourselves.  He showed me the
linen storage and demonstrated the quickest way to set up a table with a clean,
disposable, dusty rose cloth, crystal goblet with a dusty rose napkin inside,
and utensils.  A vase with a fresh flower from Twyla's garden shared the center
of the table with crystal salt and pepper grinders.  He showed me the carpet
sweeper and urged me to use it often as long as it would not distract from the
guests' dining enjoyment.  Then he made sure I had an apron, pad and holder,
pen, and a name tag.  He thought the best way for me to learn the ordering
process was to watch a variety of situations as he and Simone worked through
the evening.  I was pinning my name tag on the front of my black bib apron when
the pair of bells at the top of the blue door announced we had our first
customers.

Joel introduced me to the Robinsons, who sat at their
usual table by the window.  I guessed they were in their fifties.  They were
dressed casually, but Wanda was well maintained, and both of them expressed
themselves well and easily as if they were used to communicating with the
public.  They shared time at a condo at the top of the hill above Sunset with
five other couples.  The Robinsons usually stayed for a month in the fall and
spring, but they were staying the month of June after switching with another
couple.  Phillip Robinson graduated from Villanova after his parents moved to
Philadelphia from Illinois.  After meeting Dennis Wagner, I was struck by what
a small world it really is.  The song kept running through my head all
evening.  It kept me feeling cheerful and bubbly, which seemed as important to
the guests as the French cuisine.

The last customers left at 9:15, and Joel supervised
the cashier's reconciliation and deposit while I bussed the tables, used the
carpet sweeper, refrigerated items used in plating the food, wiped off the
menus, and emptied the dishwasher.  Once Simone had shut down the kitchen
grill, sauté station, and appliances, I cleaned them and the kitchen floor. 
The evening cashier, Breanna, had made a mistake, so she and Joel were opening
the safe when I left at ten o'clock.  It had been a busy six hours, but I was
more excited than tired.  I'd learned so many things in one night that I hoped
I could remember them all.  I was buoyed by the pleasant customers and
reassured about working with Joel and Simone.

There was a new moon and no street lights on Main
Street, so I was looking around and over my shoulder in the dark as I walked to
the beach house.  The one overhead light in the parking lot had evidently
burned out, so I was uneasy as I entered the lot and passed the restroom.  I
was so concerned about who might be behind me, that I didn't notice the light
in the bedroom of the beach house until I was a few feet from the porch.  I
stopped where I was and tried to remember when I might have turned on the light
in the bedroom.  Then I remembered Dinah had gone into that area of the house to
check for damages earlier in the day.  She must have turned on the light and
forgot to turn it off again.  The kitchen was dark, so I was sure I'd found a
rational explanation for the light.

When I reached for the loose brick, I realized I forgot
to keep the key with me as Dinah suggested.  I hesitated for a moment,
remembering her comment about parking lot riff-raff and the murder.  Was a
killer still on the loose?  What if it was not Dinah but someone else who had
left the light on in the bedroom?  I was relieved when I lifted the brick and
saw the key.  If someone else had found the key and gone inside, would he have
replaced the key under the brick?  He probably would have kept the key or left
it inside after looking for something to steal.  On the other hand, he might be
waiting inside to attack me.  There were no cars in the lot.  What if someone
wandering the beach saw me remove and replace the key when I was distracted
with Dinah?  What if he'd committed the murder Dinah mentioned?

As I was standing on the porch with my mind racing, I
jumped at the high-pitched whine of two cats preparing to fight nearby.  Then I
laughed.  I'd worked myself into froth over nothing.  I reached for the key and
opened the door to the kitchen, turning on the light.  I immediately focused on
the bedroom, turning on the light as I entered the living room.  There was no
sign of anyone.  Then I wondered if someone could be hiding behind the screen
that separated the bedroom from the living room, or in the closet, or in the
shower.  If I checked any of those places, I'd be deeper into the house,
farther from the door, and more vulnerable to attack.  I decided to look for a
knife in the kitchen to defend myself.

I'd turned around and taken only one step when I saw
the knife.   Sensations of fear crawled through my arms and legs, leaving me
unable to move.  I think I gasped, but I could not scream.  The cats outside
had called off their truce.  Their high-pitched threats went right through me. 
Then I realized my back was to the living room.  I moved away from it to the
door, opened it behind me without taking my eyes off the knife, and ran from
the house.  I kept running until I reached Frank's house on Main Street.

By the time I was knocking on Frank's door, he'd been
asleep long enough that he was not easily roused.  I instantly regretted waking
him.  I was afraid he would get excited and fall again.  The light in the
kitchen came on, and he shuffled toward the door, still tying his robe.  I apologized
and told him I needed a safe place to stay for the night.  He went back to the
bedroom to find a blanket so I could sleep on the sofa.  I called 9-1-1 and
then realized I'd not seen a police department or any official building in
Sunset.  I explained to the dispatcher that I was at a friend's house in Sunset
and needed a police officer.  I went to the porch to find Frank's house
number.  I told the dispatcher I was not in immediate danger but could not go
back to my home.  She promised to send an officer as soon as possible.

While we waited for the officer, I told Frank someone
had been in my house and might still be there.  He asked if I'd like a glass of
wine to calm my nerves, but I didn't want the officer to find that I'd been
drinking.  I begged Frank to go back to bed, but he wanted to hear about my
first night at Twyla's.  I was so rattled that it took me some time to
remember.  By the time I finished describing the customers and the tricks of
the trade I'd learned from Joel, I was calm.  When I thought about this later,
it seemed obvious to me that Frank was too sleepy to care about these details
at that late hour.  He must have known I'd be more coherent and less emotional if
I'd concentrated on something else before the officer arrived.

Frank agreed to go back to bed about 11:30.  He gave
me a key to his front door, so I could let myself in without waking him once I'd
finished with the officer.  It was close to midnight when a deputy sheriff,
Brad Nelson, knocked at Frank's door.  He was in his mid-forties and fit.  When
he removed his hat, I noticed his head was shaved, symmetrical, and smooth. 
His eyes were a deep blue.  He explained that Sunset was too small to
incorporate as a city and have its own force, so the Agate County Sheriff's
Department handled calls for help.  Deputies did not do routine patrols around
Sunset, so it took a while to get there.  He said Sunset was usually a sleepy
little beach town, because there were few tourist amenities like motels and
shops and no attractions except the arched rocks in the ocean.

I told him someone had been in my house, and I was
afraid to go back alone.  I didn't tell him everything, so he would experience
the effect firsthand, as I had.  Deputy Nelson drove to the parking lot and
went inside with his weapon drawn the way I'd seen in the movies.  It was
difficult to believe this was happening for real to me.  I'd never been in
trouble or been threatened before.  The lights were still on in the house when
we arrived, so I could see the deputy go from room to room before he returned
to the porch.

"There's no one here.  You'll need to give me
your statement about what happened.  I'll get my laptop so I can type it up as
we go," he said.

I was surprised when he said the mural was simply "kind
of unusual" as he walked past me.

I followed him into the house.  "It's
gone!" I said.

Deputy Nelson was booting his laptop at the drop leaf
table and turned around.

"What's gone?" he asked.

"When I came in alone, there was a knife
sticking out of the girl's back.  The girl in the mural had been stabbed!"

Deputy Nelson walked over to the mural.  "I don't
see anything.  Where was the knife?" he asked.

"Right in the middle of her back.  I didn't
imagine this.  I saw a knife!"

Deputy Nelson suggested I look around to see if
anything was out of place or missing.

"I don't see anything else," I said.  Then
I realized I'd not been alone in the house before.  The old fear crawled
through my body, and I sank into the chair next to the table.  “Someone was
still in the house when I came in the first time.  Whoever it was waited until
I was gone, took the knife out of the mural, and left.”  I was exhausted and
afraid.  If I'd not had to focus on the deputy's questions, I probably would
have dissolved into tears.

I told Deputy Nelson exactly what had happened
earlier that evening.  Then I told him I'd arrived the day before and gave him
the names of everyone I'd met so far.  I told him Dinah had mentioned there was
a murder, and I wondered if they had a suspect.  Deputy Nelson could not answer
that and told me I'd get a visit from a detective the next day.  He suggested I
have Dinah change the lock on the door.  He told me not to touch anything until
the detective told me the scene had been cleared.  I gave him my cell number
and told him I'd be staying with Frank that night and would not return to the
house until the detective contacted me.  I thanked him for coming and put his
card in my pocket.  He packed my overnight bag to his vehicle after I'd put a
change of underwear, my pajamas and robe, and my bag of toiletries inside.  I
turned off the lights and locked the door, making sure I put the key in my
purse.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

The next morning I awoke to the sounds of Frank
stirring in the kitchen.  After not sleeping well for the previous two nights,
I drifted off to sleep until my cell phone woke me again.  It was a detective,
Josie Gannon, from the Agate County Sheriff's Department.  I agreed to meet her
and an evidence technician at Frank's house in two hours.

I wrapped my robe around me and went to the kitchen
for coffee.  I found a cup in the cupboard and was filling it when Frank came
in from the porch with the newspaper.  It was too windy to read outside that
day.  I used the bathroom and sat at the kitchen table with my coffee.  Frank
closed the newspaper and asked if I'd like toast and jam.  I didn't need the
toast and jam as much as I needed Frank's attention.  It was comforting and
reminded me of mornings when I was a child sipping cocoa while mother buttered
my toast and spread jam on it.  He asked why I was grinning.  I told him he
reminded me of my mother that morning and my father the day before at the
diner.

"You kind of remind me of my daughter the last
time I saw her," he said.

"I didn't know you had a daughter."

"Had is about right.  Donna would prefer I was
dead," he said.

"That's awful.  I don't mean to judge her, but I
can't imagine wishing my father was dead, and I wasn't always very close to
him.  Did Dennis mention anything about my father to you?" I asked.

"No.  Why would he?" Frank asked.

"I detected some disapproval toward my father in
Dennis' conversation yesterday."

"Why weren't you close to your father?"
Frank asked.

"He was a criminal defense attorney.  I was
embarrassed by the kinds of cases he took.  He and my mother had a terrible
fight once.  She accused him of representing scum, and he shouted the scum were
the only reason we had such a cushy life.  She broke every bottle of expensive
perfume he'd ever bought for her.  I could smell the mixture of perfume out in
the hall the next day.  They had to replace the carpet in the bedroom.  I
wanted to tell my father I'd be happy to give up our lifestyle if it meant I
could be proud of him.  But he had a temper, and I was afraid to confront him,"
I said.  Frank was quiet.  "Did Donna disapprove of your job?" I
asked.

Frank took a deep breath, chewed on his lower lip,
and tapped on the floor with his cane as if to summon memories he'd chosen to
forget.  He hooked his right leg with the cane, and turned to face me, folding
his hands on the kitchen table.  He leaned toward me as if he feared someone
would overhear.

"I've never told this to a soul, Rachel.  I don't
know why I'm telling you now.  Maybe I'm tired of packing it around." 
Frank took another breath.  "I used to work on the docks in Seattle.  Carmine
Russo controlled everything that happened on the docks.  He wanted the foreman
to 'misplace' shipments of electronics.  Reagan, the president, ordered tariffs
on millions of dollars of electronics from Japan.  Russo planned to sell the
computers, TV's, and tools cheaper than people could buy them in stores with the
added tariff and still make a nice profit.  The foreman refused, and Russo
killed him.  I knew about Russo's threat, and I watched the hit on the foreman.