The Sunset Witness (4 page)

"You look pretty healthy to me, Frank.  What
were you doing in Billings?"

"Trucking.  I was a paper pusher, though, not
the long-haul stuff."

"I went to the university in Missoula.  Are you
familiar with that part of the state?" I asked.

"My son drove me through there on the way out
here.  That's about it."

"I'm glad to hear you have a family.  The waitress
at the diner said you didn't," I said.

"Gloria's right.  My son was killed in an accident
on his way back home.  He wouldn't have been on the road except for me.  It's
the damnedest thing.  How does an old coot like me keep drawing breath when
someone as good as him is taken in his prime?"  Frank's eyes were moist
like the day before, and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.

"I'm sorry, Frank.  He wouldn't want you to
blame yourself, though.  Was he the reason you left Seattle and moved to
Billings?" I asked.

"No.  That was my own damn stupidity," he
said.  He blew his nose.  "What did you study at the university?" he
asked.

"I went to law school there.  My father wanted
me to go to Harvard, but my boyfriend was going to UM.  He partied a lot and
flunked out.  I stayed and got my degree."

"Well, I like you anyway," he laughed.

"You don't like people from Missoula?"

"Don't like lawyers.  But I'll make an exception
this once."  He smiled.

I remembered Frank mentioned his daughter used to
order an egg salad sandwich when Gloria was helping him with the menu the day
before.  I wanted to ask him about her, but he said he didn't have a family, so
I was afraid I might open an old wound and cause him to cry again.

"So how did you find Sunset?  It's pretty far
off the beaten path."  I decided to redirect the conversation.

"My son's the one who found this place on that
web gadget," he said.

"Oh.  You mean online…on the internet?"

"That's it.  I guess it's this generation's
answer to the party line."  He laughed.

"Oh, you mean the shared telephone system people
used in the early days?  It's not quite the same.  You don't have to ask
someone to hang up so you can use the internet.  I think the day's coming when people
won't have a landline anymore.  Do you have one?"

"Yes I do.  It's all I need," he said.

I suggested that Frank and I trade phone numbers so
he could call me if he needed anything.  I wrote my cell number on a piece of
notepaper for him and added him to my contacts.  I tacked the paper with my
number on it to a small corkboard that hung near his phone in the kitchen.

I returned to the porch.  "I'd be lost without
my cell phone.  I feel safer traveling alone with it, it takes photographs, and
I can surf the web to find where things are in a new place like Sunset.  In
fact, I've been wondering if there's a grocery, gas station, and laundry here." 
I was digging for my phone so I could Google those services.

"The laundry is up the street where you see the
sign renting cabins.  You can get gas at the repair shop next to Twyla's if you
don't mind paying a pretty penny, and you can get groceries down the road about
a mile past the junction.  If you want cheaper gas and groceries, you can get
them in Hoquarten."

"Sarah gave me the impression there is only the
one road in and out of here.  It's pretty narrow and curvy.  Where does the
road to the right of the junction go?" I asked.

"It goes to Hoquarten.  There's no need to take
the upper road unless you want to see the lighthouse or kill time.  But I read
in the paper they'll be closing the coast road for repairs soon.  In that case,
the upper road is all we've got.  There's no shopping in Sunset, really.  You'll
need to go to Hoquarten for most things.  It's not more than an hour round trip
on the coast road.  I drove it myself until recently.  Dennis has been good
about asking if I need something when he's going there.  He just left.  I told
him there's a nice-looking young lady from Philly in town.  Dennis lived there
most of his life.  He's anxious to meet you."

"I didn't ask your last name, Frank."

"It's Case.  Easy for a lawyer to remember,"
he said.  He was laughing.

Frank invited me to have lunch with him, but I
explained that I'd eaten a scone at Twyla's and wasn't hungry.  I promised to
come by the next day and tell him about my first night as a waitress.

I crossed the street and sat on a bench near the
stairs to the beach.  My call to Sarah went right to her voicemail, so I
assumed she turned off her phone while she was having lunch.  I was anxious to
ask her about Twyla's mistaken idea that she'd returned to Pennsylvania, but I
did not want to get into that in a message.  I mentioned I'd start my waitress
job that night and was looking forward to it.  I ended by asking her to stop by
Twyla's or to leave a message so I could retrieve it on my break.

As I was approaching the beach house, a middle-aged
redhead wearing a multicolored moo moo and flip flops struggled to get out of
her car while ordering me to “wait just a minute.”  I assumed she was a tourist
who wanted directions.  I stopped at the bottom of the porch and turned to face
her.

"I'm new here myself, so I probably can't help you,"
I said.

"Are you Rachel Douglas?" she asked.

"Yes.  Do I know you?" I asked.  She was
carrying a clipboard, so this time I assumed she was either circulating a
petition or working for some government agency.

"I'm Dinah Devore.  Have you seen Sarah?  She
still owes me for last month," she said.  She was almost breathless from
the exertion required to haul her extra weight out of the car and up the slight
incline to the beach house.

"Pleased to meet you.  I haven't seen Sarah
yet.  So far, she's left me two messages that she'd be working late and didn't
want to drive home in the dark.  I've been hired as a waitress at Twyla's.  I
can assume Sarah's lease any time and start paying rent.  Do you mind taking a
check on an Arizona bank?  I lived there last year while I finished a creative
writing program," I said.

"I have the lease right here.  I'll have to ask
you for two months in advance.  I let Sarah pay a month at a time, but she's
overdue.  She didn't give me any idea when she planned on paying before she
dropped out of sight.  I need to check the inside for damages, too," Dinah
said.

I was fishing for the key under the brick.  "Please
come in."

"I wouldn't hide a key outside, now that we know
the type of riff-raff this parking lot attracts," Dinah said.

"I only left the key under the brick because
that's where Sarah told me to look for it.  I don't know if she has another key
to let herself in if I'm not here."  I replaced the key and closed the
door.  I was about to ask Dinah about her comment when she interrupted me and
pointed to the mural on the kitchen wall.

"Did you do that?" Dinah asked.  She was
livid.

"No.  It was here when I arrived.  I thought the
owner must have approved of it, so I planned to buy something to put in front
of it.  It makes me uncomfortable."

"It wasn't here when Sarah rented the house.  I'm
going to assume she's responsible.  I'll take the money out of her security deposit
to have it painted over."

"It doesn't look like Sarah's style of painting
to me," I said.  I'd not seen what Sarah was doing currently, but it had
not occurred to me that she might have painted the mural.  I thought my opinion
about the style was worth mentioning in defense of a friend.

"I wonder what else has gone wrong!"  Dinah
stormed into the living room and then checked the bathroom before coming back
to the kitchen to look for damage there.  "Well, it looks like that
graffiti is the only damage.  Do you mind living with it for a while?  I might
need to use her security deposit to cover the back rent.  I don't have time to
paint over that myself at the moment."

"Why don't you call Sarah and ask her to paint
over it?" I said.  I hoped Sarah might be in less trouble if Dinah could
use the security deposit as rent instead of a repair.

"The number I have isn't good anymore.  Do you
have a new one?" she asked.

I pulled up my contacts and showed Dinah the number
so she could copy it to her list.  "Sarah didn't mention a security
deposit.  How much do you want?" I asked.

"It's always been equal to a month's rent.  So
you can write your check for three months of rent and thank Sarah for the
inconvenience.  This is the lease.  Do you need to show it to someone?"

"No.  It looks fine.  Here's my check.  I'd like
to add you to my contacts so I can call you when I have a question," I
said.  We traded numbers, and I signed the lease.  Dinah was less angry now
that she had a new renter, three months of rent, and was satisfied that Sarah's
security deposit would be hers free and clear.  She was carefully walking down
the steps when I remembered what it was I wanted to ask her.

"Dinah, what did you mean about our knowing what
kind of riff-raff is attracted to the parking lot?"

"The murder, of course.  I suppose Sarah didn't
bother to tell you about that, either.  I don't have time now.  Keep the door
and windows locked.  Be careful who you make friends with here.  Other than
that, it's a nice little community.  You'll be glad you came," Dinah
said.  She gave me a little wave of her hand as she opened her door and got
into the car.

The small whirlwind created by Dinah's presence, her
casual mention of a murder, the warning about making friends, and a nagging
feeling that I didn't know Sarah anymore combined to leave me as stunned as if
Dinah had delivered a sucker punch and left me sprawled on the porch.

Dinah had my signature on the lease and three months
of rent, so I unpacked my car.  I needed to focus on something positive.  I
reminded myself it would be easier to put my belongings away now that Sarah had
removed anything of consequence to her new apartment in Hoquarten.  Aside from
a few nearly empty groceries in the kitchen, a roll of toilet paper and a clump
of blonde hair on the floor in the bathroom, and some crumpled paper in the
wastebasket in the bedroom, there was no sign of her.  I set my laptop, printer,
and accessories on the small desk centered on the west window.  I'd have a view
to the ocean while I wrote my novel.  I set my few decorations on the floor
next to the futon until I had time to decide where each of them would fit the
best.

I hung my clothes in the closet and then touched up
my uniform with the iron.  After eating a few crackers with cheese from a jar
over the sink, I washed them down with a bottle of water and then added water
to the list of groceries I'd started on the drop leaf table.  I found towels in
the linen closet in the bathroom, dug my shampoo and conditioner out of my
travel bag, and enjoyed a shower.  I began to relax as I listened to the surf
that I could see from the bathroom window while I applied my makeup and put my
hair up in a bun.

I checked for a message from Sarah and was surprised to
find one.  She said she probably would stay in Hoquarten until the weekend, and
I might as well start sleeping in the bed.  She hoped I was not disappointed in
the house and was anxious to hear about my first night on the job.  I felt
better knowing when I could expect her, and she sounded more like the Sarah I
knew.  She was concerned about my reaction to the house, and I knew we would
have fun trading anecdotes about Twyla's.  If I knew Sarah, she'd do a hilarious
impression of Dinah, which would leave me in tears from laughing.

Frank and Dennis were standing in front of the
building with the sign advertising CABINS when I reached Main Street.  Frank
beckoned for me to join them.  He introduced me to Dennis, saying I was the
young lady who had rescued him when he fell.  I told Dennis I remembered seeing
him when I was on my way down the stairs that morning.  He said he'd left
Philadelphia about fifteen years earlier and moved to Arizona.  I told him I'd left
Philadelphia two years before and recently finished a creative writing program
in Arizona.  He joked that I must be following him around.

"Are you any relation to Robert Douglas?" Dennis
asked.

"I'm his daughter.  How did you know him?"

"He was on the front page of the
Inquirer
fairly often.  Is he still in criminal defense?"

"No.  He passed away about two years ago.  He
quit the firm about twelve years ago."

"Oh, sure.  I don't get any older, so I assume
no one else does, either."  He laughed.

"It was nice meeting you, Mr. Wagner."

"You can call me Dennis."

"I need to get to Twyla's.  It's my first night,
and I have to learn the routine pretty fast."

"Nice meeting you, Rachel.  Let me know if you
decide to leave Sunset, so I can leave first." Dennis laughed.

I could tell by the look on Dennis' face that he did
not have a very high opinion of my father.  I hoped he would not turn Frank
against my father, too.  It'd been years since my father's reputation had
sabotaged a new relationship.  I was trying to be positive and upbeat so I'd
make a good impression at Twyla's, but I could not ignore the negative vibe I
felt with Dennis.

It was quarter to four when I arrived at Twyla's. 
The bakery area and dining room were empty.  I walked around the bakery counter
and announced my presence as I entered the kitchen.  Simone and Joel were busy
with dinner preparations.  I introduced myself, and Simone left her task to
show me around the kitchen.

She was about the same age but not as tall as Twyla. 
She wore her hair in a pixie cut, and it drew me into her large, dark eyes. 
She spoke with a slight French accent.  When I commented that everything she
said sounded more interesting, she told me her parents left France as toddlers
with an American soldier after World War II, dated when they were in high
school, and married.  Everyone in their families had been killed in Vire,
Normandy in June of 1944.  Simone graduated from Le Cordon Bleu Culinary Arts. 
She always knew she would be a chef.  She was fluent in French, which not only
kept alive the culture of her deceased grandparents but was invaluable when she
moved to France to live and learn in Paris.