Reluctant Witness (3 page)

My assistants had packed up the candelabras
and the chair skirts, and even the bunting. The crystal pendants
that had festooned the table toppers were in their lined boxes,
ready for me to load in my van. The white feather-covered dove
decorations were secured in their cases, their satin ribbons
carefully folded.

“Go home,” I had told Arturo and Lily.

“We should wait for you,” he insisted. “It’s
late. You’re the last one here.”

“I’ll be fine. You two have to pay the
babysitter. Go, before it costs you another arm and a leg.”

“Are you sure?” Lily was exhausted. Between
caring for an active two-year-old and working on this party, she
had been on her feet for twelve hours and I could see the circles
under her eyes. At least tomorrow was Sunday. They could sleep
in.

“Of course I’m sure. I’ll be here another ten
minutes at the most. What can happen in ten minutes?”

Chapter Three

“What did happen?” Vidal prompted me. I shook
my head. I wasn’t sure. “Did you get in the van and drive
away?”

“No. Someone was waiting...in the dark...in
the hallway.”

That was all that my mind needed to picture
the scene once more. Suddenly I was back there, at the Gilded Nest
in those last few minutes, just before the maelstrom of madness
struck with a viciousness that was stunning.

Arturo and Lily had insisted on helping me
load the van with the rest of the boxes, so we each made a couple
of trips. After shuffling everything into place for the trip home,
making sure everything was secure, I shut the van door.

“Ready?” she had asked. Lily was eager to get
home. I couldn’t really blame her.

“I have to get my purse, make a final check,
and shut off the lights. You two go ahead. I’ll be fine,” I
promised them, looking down at my watch. “If you go now, you won’t
owe the sitter for another hour.”

Her husband was less than thrilled at the
thought of leaving me there on my own, but I shrugged him off. In
hindsight, I’m glad I did.

“What is there to worry about? Look at this
place. It’s amazing!” I answered cheerfully, with a sweep of my
hand. The Gilded Nest, one of my all-time favorite party venues,
was a banquet hall adorned with amazing architectural details and
elegant furniture. In winter, the outside of the charming
Adirondack lodge was frosted in twinkling white lights. Bushes and
trees sparkled, giant snowflakes lined the long drive to the
parking lot, and the eaves of the roof dripped with illuminated
icicles that cast a warm glow upon the white horizon. Just looking
at the place gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling.

“How can anything bad ever happen in a place
like this? It’s magical!” I had laughed, believing those words as I
spoke them.

I waited as they got into their car and
fastened their seat belts. Lily started the engine and put the car
in gear. As it rolled past me, I waved to the couple inside.

“You be careful, Marigold,” Arturo said to me
through the open window, concern etched on his face. Had he somehow
sensed what was to come? Is that why he was so nervous about
leaving me alone?

“I will. Drive safely!” I called out to them.
I stood there until the glow of the tail lights disappeared over
the rise, hugging myself to stay warm. The only thing left to do
was to go back inside to collect my purse from the tiny office,
turn off all of the lights, and lock up.

Back in the warmth of the heated building, I
crossed the dance floor to the massive stone fireplace and flicked
the switch to the gas fire, extinguishing the flames, and then I
navigated around the round, now naked tables, and hit the three
wall switches for the decorated fig trees and main chandeliers. The
remaining lights could be turned off as I left the building. I
passed through the dark opening that was the hallway. There was a
light on in the office, and its soft glow spilled out into the
corridor. I entered the narrow room and found my way to the
thermostat, turned it down to sixty, and then walked to the closet.
There, on a hanger, was my coat. I slipped it on and then reached
into the built-in nook to the right of the closet for my shoulder
bag. Scooping it up and inserting my arm under the strap before
shutting off the lights, I thought about getting home to my tiny
rented apartment, about the long, hot bath I would take, and the
glass of Shiraz I would enjoy as I read my new Donegan Bailey
mystery. Tomorrow I would take it easy and catch up on the little
things I had been neglecting over the last two weeks, I decided. I
hit the light switch and stepped out into the narrow corridor. But
I never reached the front entrance.

What had happened? Think, Marigold. What
stopped you from going home?

The sound of my high heels striking the
floor, that tap-tap-tap, was a comforting cacophony of sound in my
aloneness. But then I heard it, just a tiny swoosh of movement that
seemed to come from my left. I sensed that presence just seconds
before the tall silhouette stepped out from behind the door to the
kitchen. I screamed, startled.

“Who are you? What do you want?” My terror
only grew as he came towards me. “I’m sorry, but the party is over.
You’ll have to leave.”

“Leave? I don’t think so, Marigold
Flowers.”

The next thing I knew, there were hands on
me, on my throat, trying to squeeze the breath out of me...who was
it? I couldn’t see his face, but I noticed his aftershave. It
smelled of musky woods. He backed me against the wall, his forearm
against my neck as he fumbled for something in his pocket. By then,
my eyes had begun to adjust to the darkness of the hallway and I
could see him grinning at me as I struggled. He brought out a small
penknife, barely more than a Boy Scout would carry, and put it to
my neck, the small, sharp, point nicking my chin.

“You and I are going to have
a little chat, lady. And you’re going to tell me what I want to
know, because if you don’t, I’m going to start cutting!” His
breath, coffee-scented, was now hot on my cheek. He towered over me
menacingly, squeezing the life out of me. Overwhelmed and under
pressure, my knees began to buckle and I felt myself crumble. And
just when I thought I would pass out, my fingers touched the handle
of the mop against the wall, the one I had used to swab up a puddle
of spilt Champagne, the result of a guest dropping a flute during
the toast to the happy bridal couple. The fingers of my right hand
gripped the wooden shaft tightly and I jabbed it upwards, quickly,
desperately. I must have struck his face, because suddenly he let
go of me, howling like a wounded coyote. Driven by instinct, unable
to think clearly, I fled my captor, racing past him like a rabbit
on the run, desperately hip-hopping down the hall, even as I tried
to locate my key ring inside my shoulder bag.
Where were those damn keys?

Even now, in this quiet
office, sitting with these two plainclothes strangers, my heart was
racing. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm
myself.
I can’t look. I don’t want to look.
This is too awful.
The seconds ticked on as
I sat there. That cold dread was growing in my chest, gripping me
like a vice.

“What happened next?” Vidal asked me. This
time, his voice was gentler. “Take it slow.”

“I...I...I don’t want to know,” I stuttered.
“Please!”

A terrible chill came over me as I sat there,
and I started to shiver. I knew something bad was about to happen,
something really, really bad.

“Marigold....”

“I can’t.” I hugged myself, wishing I was six
years old once more.

“Sure you can,” Inspector Vidal insisted. “No
one’s going to hurt you now. You’re safe here.”

His eyes fastened on me with a sharp and
penetrating gaze, and even though his face was etched by the years
on the job and an excess of familiarity with real crime, this New
York state trooper had that fatherly tone in his voice, making me
think it would be okay if I told him. He wouldn’t run away. He
wouldn’t leave me behind. He wouldn’t desert me. I took a gulp of
air and let it hit my lungs before I slowly pushed it out, and with
it, some of my panic.

“I...ran into the ballroom....Someone else
came through the door. He had a...a gun and he shot the man chasing
me.”

“Do you know who the second man was?”

“Mmm.”

“Mmm what?”

“Do you know who he was?”

“Not really sure,” I hedged, suddenly
worried. What was I worried about?

“Let’s move on. What happened after the
second man shot the first?”

“Um,” I replied, hoping to stall for time.
Why did I need time? Why couldn’t I just tell Inspector Vidal what
had happened to me?

“Boss?” It was Philomena. She clutched her
laptop in her hands. Had she found something? “Can we step out for
a moment?”

“Sure,” he told her, still watching me, his
head cocked to one side.

They were gone no more than thirty seconds or
so. I was still shaking in my seat when they returned.

“Marigold, who was the second man?” Inspector
Vidal asked me again. I looked up, shaking my head.

“I...I don’t know,” I insisted. An odd
expression came over his face, changing his demeanor. He didn’t
believe me.

“I’m going to ask you one more time. Who was
the second man?” This time he was all cop, with no soft side
showing.

“How could I know?” I cried. “I’m just a
party planner!”

Philomena leaned over me and placed her open
laptop in front of me. “Take a look.”

I did as she asked, moving
my eyes to the screen. There was a headline.
“United States Marshal Gunned Down!”

“What?” I gasped, trying to read more, even
as my chest felt like it would explode. I tried to focus on the
words, but my eyes wouldn’t cooperate.

“The United States Marshals Service
acknowledged that one of their agents was gunned down at The Gilded
Nest, a well-known Lake Placid banquet facility. Tovar Abajo is
reportedly in critical condition after being transported to
Adirondack Medical Center, where he underwent six hours of surgery
for four bullet wounds, one of which punctured his lung.”

“No! But he has a wife and children!” Those
involuntary words, borne of my kneejerk reaction to news of the
tragedy, slipped out of my mouth.

“Marigold,” said the man sitting across from
me, “Are you in the WitSec program? Would you like me to contact
the Marshals Service, so we can get you some help?”

“I can’t tell you. It’s not allowed.”

“Surely you can. This is clearly an
emergency,” Philomena came around and parked herself on the corner
of her boss’s desk, crossing her arms. “We can’t help you if you
don’t cooperate.”

“No, you don’t understand. You can’t call the
switchboard and tell people who I am and where I am.”

“Do you have a handler?” asked the man across
the desk, pen in hand. “I could insist on discussing the situation
only with that person.”

“That’s just it,” I groaned. “Tovar was my
guy, my only guy. His partner went out on emergency maternity leave
last week and the boss just retired. They were in the process of
switching gears, but because I’m supposed to be moved next month,
they decided not to change anything.”

“What about the boss that retired? Can we
reach out to him?” The female state trooper leaned forward. “Come
on, Marigold. Help us to help you.”

“I don’t know where he went. All he told me
at the last meeting six weeks ago was that he and his wife bought a
place where the fishing is better than fine.”

A brusque knock interrupted the conversation.
We all turned towards the door as Vidal responded with a
bellow.

“Come in!”

A short man with a schoolboy face entered the
room, holding a file folder in his left hand. Flipping it open, he
presented it to Vidal.

“Boss, we got an ID on the victim in the car.
She’s one Kelly Wainwright, alias Cassandra Klee, alias Lorissa
Kraupt. She’s a hired hand out of Milwaukee.”

“Someone shot and killed an assassin?” That
had Philomena’s attention immediately. “Then who was the guy who
shot at our people?”

“Any ideas, Marigold?” Inspector Vidal
wondered. To be honest, I was fresh out of them, still reeling from
the confirmation that the woman who had tossed me into the trunk of
her car was a professional killer.

“Why didn’t she murder me when she had the
chance?” I asked the three state troopers. It seemed like a
sensible question. “Why did she throw me into the trunk? Where was
she taking me?”

“We don’t know yet. Maybe she had a
rendezvous with the man who tried to snatch you at the park.”

“
He didn’t want to kill me
right away either,” I pointed out.

“Unusual,” Philomena decided, taking notes.
“You must have had some value. Are you sure you didn’t recognize
either of the people who tried to grab you?”

“Positive.”

“So, the next question is what do we do with
you while we try and hook up with someone at the Marshals Service
who can be trusted? Phil, any ideas?”

“Let’s get in touch with the retired boss and
see what he says. Are you good with that, Marigold?”

“Sure,” I nodded. “Do you think you can find
him?”

“It depends on where he settled when he
retired,” Inspector Vidal decided. “I’ll have to run this at the
highest levels, so we don’t slip up and put you in greater danger.
Give us the details and we’ll get this figured out. In the
meantime, I’m sending you off with one of my K-9 guys to an
undisclosed location to sit it out.”

“Can’t I just stay here?” I asked, feeling
unexpectedly anxious about my future. “I don’t mind.”

“We’ve got too many folks coming in and out,
Marigold. Believe me when I tell you you’re safer with my K-9 guy.
He’ll take great care of you, I promise.”