The Sunset Witness (16 page)

Then he told me Breanna was jealous of me, too.  She
thought Twyla would give her Sarah's old job.  When Joel was asked to train me,
Breanna thought he should have been less helpful.  She told him to train me to
do things the wrong way so I'd get fired and she could have the job.  Joel said
she was completely unreasonable and jealous.  She thought I was hired for my
looks instead of what I knew.  Then Joel and I were interrupted by customers
coming in the front door.  He wanted to tell me something later.  He would walk
home with me.

There were very few customers at Twyla's.  I wondered
how she could afford to open the doors.  The customers we did have were given
the royal treatment.  All of Joel's tables were taken, but mine stayed empty. 
We both worked his tables, and he shared his tips with me.

When Joel took his meal break, I waited on a customer
who sat at the table nearest to the kitchen.  The man was in his mid-forties,
nice looking, and a walking advertisement for various electronic devices.  He
wore headphones so he could listen to his MP3 music, texted on his phone, and
read a novel on his eBook reader while he ate.  I wondered if he really enjoyed
juggling so many things at once or if he was very self-conscious about eating
alone.  He ordered the stuffed chicken breast with a bottle of very expensive
Chablis and topped it off with a slice of pineapple cake with real whipped cream. 
He tipped exactly twenty percent of the total after using his tip calculator
and paid the bill with cash.  Twyla saw him walk to one of the cabins and go
inside.  We guessed he was saving money on his accommodations so he could enjoy
a gourmet meal.

As the night wore on, I was sure Michael would stop
by the restaurant.  He did not have a key to my house, and I knew he'd be
anxious to see me.  I was very concerned when I finished getting the deposit
ready and he still had not showed up.

Joel told me that I caught on to closing much faster
than Breanna and my numbers were more legible.  I hoped I was mistaken, but he
seemed more than complimentary.  He stood very close to me and seemed different
than he had when Breanna was around.  He locked the front door and walked to
the beach house with me.

On the way home, Joel asked if I remembered the night
Breanna had made one of her usual mistakes that caused them to be late putting
the deposit in the safe.  I didn't remember until he told me Breanna faked the
mistake so I'd be sure to leave first.  He explained she told him the story
later, and he wanted to tell me before but was afraid of her.

Joel said Breanna was slightly late getting to Twyla's
that day because she'd stopped at my house and let herself in with the key
Sarah always kept under the loose brick.  Breanna told Joel she'd taken one of
Twyla's filet knives and stuck it in the back of the girl in the mural.  She
knew Sarah painted the mural.  Sarah told her the girl in the halter was
Rachel.  Breanna wanted to scare me so I'd leave Sunset.  She believed Sarah
was right about me.  I'd stolen Nate from her, and I'd steal Joel, too.

After Breanna kissed Joel goodnight and he hiked up
the hill to his house, she pretended to go to the parking lot for her car.  She
watched me go into the house and come running out.  Once I was out of the way,
she went in, removed the filet knife, and touched up the painting.  She was
only sorry she couldn't see the expression on my face when I realized the knife
was gone.  Joel said she laughed so hard that she wet her pants when she told
him the story.

Although I was glad I no longer had to worry that the
person who stuck the knife in the mural was a crazed killer who might still be
around, I felt sad and sick to my stomach.  The revelation about Breanna was
too much on top of everything else.  I was glad I'd not bothered to go to the
hospital to see her.  She probably would have laughed about it.  Even if she
was insecure and jealous, stabbing the girl in the mural was a despicable thing
to do.

Why hadn't I realized Sarah had painted the mural of
Nate and me?  Was she spying on us in Missoula?  Had Sarah made up the whole
story about the job in Hoquarten to lure me to the beach house so she could
humiliate me?  How could she think I'd stolen Nate from her?  She'd done
everything she could to tempt him away from me right from the first.

I asked Joel to leave.  Then I went into the bathroom
to vomit.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

When I opened my eyes Tuesday morning, I experienced
a moment of calm.  It flowed over me like soothing water.  Then the memories of
Monday night brought on a wave of nausea.  I made it to the bathroom just in
time.  Once I'd brushed my teeth and gargled to get rid of the foul taste in my
mouth, I opened the pregnancy test kit and read the instructions again.  I
collected my urine and dipped the strip into the cup.  There was no question. 
I was pregnant.

I'd always imagined I'd be excited and happy when I
became pregnant.  Instead, it was another complication.  I'd been too
passionate for Michael to worry about preventing a pregnancy.  I was at the end
of my fertile cycle and unconcerned.  Is this how my mother felt when she realized
she was forty and pregnant with me?  Did she have her own dreams that went
unfulfilled?  Was I part of the reason she became addicted to alcohol?  I
remembered what she told me about a love child being especially beautiful.  If
passion really did make a difference, this child would be outstanding.  I
should have been happy, but I felt hopeless.  My tears began as slowly as my
realization that nothing would ever be the same.  By the time I recognized how
unprepared I was to have a baby, my tears were a flood of grief.

When I thought I was at rock bottom, I heard someone
knocking on the door.  The effort to get up and go to the door was so great
that the young woman was walking back toward her delivery van by the time I
looked out the window.  She was from the Hoquarten florist who'd called to tell
me Michael received the wrong roses and the correct ones would be sent out.  I
opened the door and discovered a dozen black roses on the porch.  The sight of
them brought on more nausea.  I almost fainted when I bent over to pick up the
vase.  Why would anyone send black roses?  Was that something the Mafia did to
people on a hit list?  I picked up the vase and brought the roses inside. 
Again, only the name, Michael was written at an angle across the card.  I
thought about what the florist had said. 
Michael would know who sent them.

Michael had not left a message the night before while
I was working at Twyla's.  He'd not called.  I checked to be sure my phone was
working.  It was early in the afternoon the day before when Michael told me he'd
be leaving I-5 and heading for Astoria on Highway 30.  If he kept driving, he
should be in Sunset by now.  If he stayed overnight along the way, he'd have
called to let me know.  I called him again, and the call went right to his
voicemail.  Why would his phone be turned off?  If I'd not known everything
Donna told Michael about Ricky Russo, I'd not have been so worried.  I'd have
been angry because Michael did not keep in touch with me.  Now, I feared the
worst.  Had someone followed Michael and killed him?  I decided to wait a while
longer before I called Detective Gannon to report him missing.

I drank tea instead of coffee and tried soaking in
the tub to soothe my nerves.  I rested my head on the inflatable pillow I'd
bought at Fred Meyer.  The scent of sandalwood filled the bathroom.  I listened
to Rachmaninov again and tried to clear my mind so I'd be able to make good
decisions when Michael returned.  The window was open so I could hear the
surf.  By the time the concerto was finished, I felt like I could get dressed
and face the day.

The last time I saw Frank was with Michael the day
before.  I was anxious to know if Donna had called him to apologize. 
Hopefully, she would make a trip to Sunset to see him before he died.  I
knocked on Frank's door, waited, and knocked again.  I thought he must be in
the bathroom, so I sat in one of the rocking chairs and enjoyed the view from
his porch.  After about five minutes had passed, I knocked again.  I remembered
he never locked his door.  I tried the knob, and the door opened.  I called his
name.  I went into the house and expected to see him asleep in his chair in the
living room.  He wasn't there.  I hoped he hadn't died alone.  I steeled
myself, took a deep breath, and walked into his bedroom.  The bed was made. 
The bathroom door was open.  I looked into the bathroom, but he was not there,
either.  I was on my way out when I thought to look for a note in the kitchen. 
I didn't find a note, and there was no sign he'd been in the kitchen that
morning.  The percolator had been washed and turned upside down in the rack
next to the sink.  It was dry.

I wasn't worried about Frank.  I was sure he must be
with Dennis.  I knocked on the door of Dennis' cabin.  There was no answer.  I
noticed his Buick was parked in its usual spot.  I knocked again.  Then I told
him Rachel was at the door, and I was concerned about Frank.  When I still did
not get a response from Dennis, I went to the diner.  I expected to see them
eating breakfast together.

The man who owned the cabins was the only person in
the diner.  He was sitting on a stool at the counter.  When he saw me, he
laughed and said I must have changed my mind about renting from Dinah.  I told
him I couldn't find Frank, and Dennis didn't answer his door.  I asked if he
could open Dennis' cabin so we could be sure he was all right.  The man left
his plate of eggs and bacon without a second thought.  I followed him out the
door of the diner and toward Dennis' cabin.  The man found his master key and
opened the door.  Then he turned to push me away and I heard him say, "Oh,
shit."  I asked him what was wrong.  He was already on the phone dialing
9-1-1.  He stepped away from the door.  I looked inside.  Frank and Dennis had
been playing cards at the small round table across from the television.  Their
hands dangled by the side of their chairs with cards scattered on the floor. 
Both men were slumped over.  The right side of Frank's head and the left side
of Dennis's head rested on the table, as if they had looked toward the door at
the same time.  Then I realized both of them had been shot once in the
forehead.  I was too stunned to scream or cry.  Again, I felt a wave of nausea
and ran to the curb.  The man from the cabins said I could use the bathroom in
his office.  Then I must have passed out.

When I woke up, I was lying on a sofa in the office. 
Detective Gannon was taking a statement from the man who owned the cabins.  I heard
him spell his name for her and listened to his account of what happened after I
came to the diner to tell him Dennis had not answered his door.  Detective
Gannon asked him if he could think of anything else.  He could not.  He'd not
seen or heard anything unusual.

Then I asked the detective if she'd interviewed the
man Twyla saw going into a cabin the night before.  She asked the owner for the
names of his other renters.  He told her Dennis was the only one who'd rented a
cabin recently.  The other two units were vacant.  By that time, I felt like I
could stand up again, so I left with Detective Gannon and walked across the
street to talk to Twyla.  She'd seen the commotion at the cabins and was
wondering if someone had a heart attack.

When the detective told Twyla she was investigating a
double homicide, Twyla was shocked.  I asked her to tell the detective what she'd
seen the night before when the unusual customer with all the electronic devices
left the restaurant.  Twyla told the detective the man crossed the street and
went into the first cabin on the other side of the Laundromat.  Detective
Gannon asked if the man used a key.  Twyla said it seemed like he walked right
inside.  She didn't hear or see anything unusual.  She and I gave Detective
Gannon a good description of the man.  It seemed very clear to me that he'd
been sent to carry out the hits Dennis and Michael had not done.  He was the
last person anyone would suspect as a hitman.

I wanted to tell Detective Gannon about the day
Dennis confessed he'd been given a contract on Frank and about Michael's deal
with the men at the casino to kill Dennis.  I wasn't sure that Michael himself
hadn't been the victim of Ricky Russo.  I was not interested in getting him
involved with Detective Gannon until we discussed how to proceed.  If I told
her about the hits Dennis and Michael refused to do, everything would unravel.

It was early afternoon.  I told Twyla I'd see her
later.

As I walked back to the beach house, I saw deputies
carry two body bags from Dennis' cabin.  I'd recovered from a sucker punch only
to be punched again.  I'd not been close to Dennis, but Frank was like family. 
I knew he was dying, and I tried to focus on the fact he'd seen Michael before
he died.  Nothing made me feel better.  Frank was a gentle old man who deserved
to enjoy life for a while after all he'd sacrificed to do the right thing.  He
did not deserve to be executed.  Worst of all, I knew the man who'd killed him
would not be caught.  Frank gave his life for justice, and justice would not be
served for him.

I rested for an hour and then dressed for work.  By
the time I arrived at Twyla's, the fire truck, ambulance, and deputies had
gone.  It was as if nothing had happened.  I saw Harry hard at work on his
pictorial.  For some reason, Dinah's warning flashed through my mind:  “Be
careful who you make friends with here.  Other than that, it's a nice little
community.  You'll be glad you came.”

Harry looked like a different person.  I realized he
was actually quite handsome in a rugged sort of way.  I guessed we were close
in age.  The red highlights in his hair accented his freckles.  His eyes were
very blue, and he had a full mouth.  His smile was charming.  Even though he
was painting, his white cargo pants and blue t-shirt were clean.  He had a nice
build.  He said he hoped all my customers were polite and generous with their
tips.  Then he laughed.  I was a little ashamed of my first opinion of him.  He
cleaned up nicely and was very appealing after all.