The Sunset Witness (6 page)

"I wrestled with my conscience, and then I
testified against Russo.  My boss put up a reward for information on the
foreman's murder.  Russo's attorney accused me of being an opportunist to
discredit me.  The jury didn't believe it.  They convicted Russo.  The attorney
for the state arranged for me to enter the witness program.  My daughter was
about your age at the time.  My son was older and understood I had to follow my
conscience.  Donna accused me of being 'a big shot.'  Once I accepted
protection, I couldn't have contact with anyone I knew, including my family. 
Donna said it would've been better if I had died instead of the foreman.  I
haven't spoken to her since."

We were quiet for a few seconds.  "So that's why
you left Seattle and settled in Billings?" I asked.

He nodded.  "Late last year, I got some bad news
from my doctor.  I contacted my son.  I told him I'd been running long enough. 
I wanted to see him and Donna and then live out my last days by the ocean.  I
missed it living in Montana all those years.  I knew I was putting myself at
risk by contacting my family, but I figured I might have a few months before
the mob found me.  The cancer might finish me before they do," he said.

"Did Donna refuse to meet with you?" I
asked.

"She said she buried me twenty-four years before
and wasn't interested in digging me up now."  Donna's cold words hung in
the air between us.  Frank reached for his handkerchief and blew his nose.  "Truth
be told, someone else took Russo's place.  Honor be damned!" Frank said. 
He hit the table with his fist.  "Nothing changed, except I lost my
daughter."  We were quiet for a few seconds before he continued.  "Take
my advice, Rachel.  Never be a witness to anything."

I was sitting with Frank on his porch, when Detective
Josie Gannon and the evidence technician pulled up to the curb.  I told Frank
I'd buy him lunch after we finished.  I shook hands with Detective Gannon and
got inside the van.  The evidence tech parked at an angle in front of the porch
at the beach house.  He got out and looked around outside, while the detective
and I talked inside the van.

I guessed the detective was a few years older than
I.  Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail and blonde.  I thought it must be
natural, because her eyebrows were so light, they hardly showed above the dark
frames of her glasses.  She had a way of keeping my attention focused on her
eyes.  Perhaps it was a trick detectives learned so people could not avoid
telling the truth.  It was only after we left the van and I followed her into
the house that I realized she was about the same height as I, and she looked
very fit, as if she worked out at a gym.  She wore dress slacks, a red blouse,
and clogs.

As the technician went about looking for evidence,
Detective Gannon sat at the drop leaf table and watched me go through my
actions the previous night.  The technician took my fingerprints, so he could
compare them to what he found in the house.  Then he handed me a crumpled piece
of paper from the wastebasket in the bedroom and asked if I'd seen it before. 
The paper was white.  A red marker was used to form the letters:  SCARED YET? 
The words gave me chills.  I'm sure Detective Gannon could tell from my
reaction that I'd never seen the paper before.  I told her there was paper in
the wastebasket when I was loading my belongings into the house, but I'd not
looked at it.  She asked me if Sarah had mentioned anything about threats to
her.

"Sarah and I have talked very little.  She said
she'd found a better job as a graphic designer in Hoquarten and didn't like
driving an hour each way so she could live at the beach.  I was graduating from
the creative writing program in Arizona, and it was perfect timing for me to
take over her house and job while I tried writing my first serious novel.  We've
been playing phone tag ever since I got here.  She left a message that she
would probably stay in Hoquarten until the weekend.  She told me to use the bed
and said she hoped I wasn't disappointed in the house.  She was looking forward
to hearing about my first night at Twyla's."

"Did she mention the murder in the parking
lot?" Detective Gannon asked.

"No.  Dinah did.  But she was in a big hurry to
leave yesterday, so she didn't tell me the details," I said.

"Sarah heard a scuffle in the parking lot a
couple of weeks ago.  She looked out the window on the door.  A man was
stabbed, and the perpetrator was standing over him.  Sarah ducked away from the
window after the man looked toward the beach house.  Sarah thinks he realized
someone might have seen him.  She only told us about this when she started
receiving threats.  The note in her wastebasket is similar to others she found
under her door.  Someone followed her from Twyla's one night, but she never saw
who it was.   She left her car unlocked the next day and found a soft doll with
blonde hair and a knife through its chest on the seat.  The last time I talked
to Sarah, someone woke her the night before.  She left the bathroom window
open, and someone threatened her by saying creepy things along with her name
over and over."

The sensations of fear that had crawled through my
arms and legs the night before returned.

"Why didn't Sarah tell me about this?" I
asked, not really expecting an answer.

"Sarah was pretty terrified.  My guess is she
wanted you to assume her lease so she would be free to leave.  She probably
thought the threats would end when the killer saw someone else living here,"
Detective Gannon said.

"But they didn't end.  Someone stabbed the girl
in the mural and then removed the knife.  Why would someone do that?" I
asked.

"If it's the same person who threatened Sarah, he
might not realize she's gone," Detective Gannon said.

"But why remove the knife?"

"Maybe he decided if he couldn't scare her away,
he'd undermine her credibility," Detective Gannon said.

"But he would have had to see her to realize he
hadn't scared her away."

"Sarah and I talked last Saturday.  She said she
was packing up to leave over the long weekend.  You didn't see her when you
arrived on Tuesday.  If she left on Monday, the man who had threatened her
could have seen she was still here.  Maybe he didn't get around to entering the
house until Wednesday night when you were at Twyla's working.  Ordinarily, I'd
tell you to find someplace else to live.  But in this case, it might be best if
you make your presence known.  If the killer who threatened Sarah sees you
instead of her, he'll think he succeeded in driving her away."

"Now I know why Sarah has been making excuses
for staying in Hoquarten.  She probably thought that man would see me here all
week and realize she's gone.  I'm sure she wouldn't have put me in this position
if she thought I'd be in danger.  Something tells me she'll find an excuse not
to come on Saturday, either."

"Maybe you should call her and suggest going to
Hoquarten on Saturday.  Tell her you're anxious to see the town and her new
digs.  Then you can clear the air and get on with your friendship,"
Detective Gannon said.

"What about the killer who's still on the loose
in Sunset?" I asked.

"He'll slip up eventually, and we'll arrest him,"
Detective Gannon said.

The detective went outside to take a call.  I called
Sarah.  I left a message that I was going to Hoquarten on Saturday and would
arrive early so we could have lunch and she could show me around before I had
to work at Twyla's that evening.

When the evidence tech finished, I shook hands with
Detective Gannon and then went back inside, locking the door behind me.  I
needed to spend a few minutes in the house alone before I could tell if I'd be
able to stay.  I sat in the chair in front of my laptop and looked at the view
of the ocean.  Finally, I was doing what I wanted to do with my life instead of
trying to please my father.  I'd worked hard in Arizona and now I had a job at Twyla's. 
I deserved to have my dream.  The detective was probably right.  Whoever
threatened Sarah would realize she was gone.  He wasn't interested in harming
me.  Giving in to my imagination and fear would ruin the opportunity of a
lifetime.

When I arrived at Frank's house, he and Dennis were coming
back from lunch at the diner.  I apologized to Frank and asked if he would accept
a rain check for lunch another day.  I told him I appreciated staying with him
the night before, but I needed to go back to the beach house.  He said
something about getting back on the horse after a fall, and I went inside his
house to get my things together.  Dennis insisted on giving me a ride.  After
he set my bag on the porch, I had the feeling he wanted to tell me something. 
Instead, he said he was glad to help.  He got back into his Buick and headed
for Main Street.

After unpacking again, I ate the last of the cereal
and milk while sitting on the porch so I'd be visible as Detective Gannon
suggested. As long as I was going to Hoquarten on Saturday, I'd get groceries
then.  In the meantime, I'd finish whatever Sarah left behind.

My parents hadn't taught me to be frugal.  My father
was born in 1929 after the crash.  My mother was born December 7, 1941. 
Neither of them was old enough to remember the deprivations of the depression
or rationing during the war.  However, both came from homes where their parents
did know about deprivation and found it difficult to part with a dollar. 
Spending on the necessities was one thing, but being comfortable was out of the
question.  While my parents did not throw money away, they believed in having
nice things and required more comforts than my grandparents.

My father left me a portfolio, and it had not been
plundered by the movers and shakers on Wall Street.  However, I knew
things
did not make my parents happy.  I also was keenly aware my mother endured a
marriage that literally drove her to drink because she was not able to live
independently of my father.  I made up my mind very early to guarantee my
independence by having a skill and to find the happiness that eluded my parents
by living simply.  I like to think I have the best of both worlds.  I can
afford whatever I want, but I want very little.

I was anxious to start working on an idea I had for
my novel, but I preferred to write early in the day.  I'd need a larger block
of time.  Once I was on my way, I'd be able to write in spurts.  For now, I'd
fill the time before I reported to Twyla's by finding a place for my few
decorations.

The first memento I unwrapped was a music box with
Beauty and the Beast dancing to the theme from Disney's classic.  I didn't enjoy
that Disney animation more than any other, but it was the only time my father
took me to the movies.  I was ten.  Years later, I learned my mother had a
miscarriage.  My father tried to distract me and give my mother a little
space.  I asked Santa for the music box, and it traveled with me to Montana,
back to Philadelphia, to Arizona, and to Sunset.  I could have had a music box
with Belle and the prince, but I wanted Belle and the Beast.  Even then, I hoped
I could change my father by loving him enough.  I put the music box next to the
bed, so I could listen to it while falling asleep.

I'd marked NR on the outer layer of paper covering a
photo to remind me not to remove the paper if Sarah was around.  Nate Russell
and I were in our swimsuits at Lolo Hot Springs outside of Missoula, where we
were freshmen at the University of Montana.  Nate's sandy, mid-length hair fell
around his face.  He hadn't shaved that morning.  His smile showed his perfect
teeth and created laugh lines that drew my attention to his incredible, blue
eyes.  When we first met, I thought we were exactly the same except for our eye
color.  Whatever he liked, I liked.  Whatever I disliked, he disliked.  I'd
found my soul mate.  I remembered reading you don't need to look for love.  It will
find you.  I found this to be true more than once.  My relationship with Nate
was perfect except he'd met Sarah first, and she was in love with him, too.  I
put the photo on the bookshelf closest to the window where I'd be writing my
novel.  Perhaps, it would help me remember how it felt to be in love.

The music box and photo had triggered memories that
carried me away for more than an hour.  I realized I needed to shower and dress
so I'd be at work on time.  As I stepped under the shower spray, I heard my
phone.  I hoped to talk to Sarah before I drove to Hoquarten.  It had occurred
to me after I left my message that she might have preferred I come another
time.  I almost shut off the shower, but I decided, instead, to let the call go
to message.

When I checked the phone, there was a message from
Joel.  He said an old friend was in town and looking for something to do.  Joel
suggested I could join him, Breanna, and Michael on Saturday to see the sights
around Sunset.  He didn't know how much time there would be that night to
discuss it, so he wanted to give me a heads up.  I could let him know later if
I was interested.

I called Joel and told him I planned on driving to
Hoquarten on Saturday to see Sarah.  Joel said he'd try to reschedule something
planned for Sunday.  It would be a better day for us to show Michael around,
because Twyla always closed the restaurant on Sunday.  I was less interested in
meeting Michael than I was in staying friends with Joel.  My job at Twyla's was
important to me.  Joel was in a position to help me either succeed or fail.

Before I left for work, I took a few minutes to clean
the window on the door.  The window wasn't very dirty, but I wanted to spend
some time outside by the house to make myself visible.

Thursday evening was slow at Twyla's.  Joel's tables
filled as usual, but mine never did.  Sarah had not done her routine cleaning
of the kitchen before she left.  Joel showed me what had to be done, and I
stayed occupied, if not busy, all evening.  After the last customers left, Joel
asked if I had any questions about Michael.  I told him I wanted to be sure he
was unattached.  I always felt phony asking a date questions when I already
knew the answers.  That might be good policy with a witness during a trial, but
I liked being surprised by my dates.