Witness (4 page)

“Hi. I went home to pick up lunch for my sisters and me, and when I came back I saw your car and…”

Joe grinned. “Is this a lunch invitation?”

She swallowed hard and tried again. “Well, actually, no. That’s not what I intended. I mean, you can join us if you like, but…”

He watched her now, one eyebrow slightly elevated, and his expression changed from pleased surprise to alert concern. She figured his detective expertise had told him that she had something serious to share.

“Actually I came to talk to you about business.”

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“No.”

Joe rounded his desk and pulled another chair over from the wall.

“Tell me what this is about.”

She sank onto the chair and took two slow breaths before meeting his gaze again. His deep brown eyes emanated sympathy, sweeping aside her doubts. She’d done the right thing in coming to him.

“I…” She laced her fingers together and held her hands rigid on her lap. “Something happened a few days ago and I…”

Joe was silent for a moment, then leaned back in his chair. “Take your time. I’ll help you in any way I can.”

His soft, patient voice calmed her, and she straightened her shoulders. “I was doing okay with it, I thought, but then, when I went out to the house alone just now, I saw that someone had left a message on my cell phone while we were at church.”

“Bad news?” he asked.

“No news. No anything. Just…a hang-up.”

“Could have been a wrong number.”

She bit her lip. She’d run through all the possibilities, but she didn’t believe this was random.

“It wasn’t just a missed call. The caller waited for the message tape to play a few seconds before he hung up. And the incoming number was blocked. I’ve gotten several of these calls since Friday. I think they’re related to an incident that happened Thursday evening.”

His eyes narrowed and he picked up a pen. “Tell me about it.”

She looked up at him, feeling the hot lump in her throat that came with tears. This was not the time to go all weepy.

“It’s okay. Whatever you tell me is confidential.”

She nodded. “Thanks. Because I’m feeling the urge to bolt. I haven’t told anyone about this. Not even my sisters. And the police think I’m bonkers.”

He said nothing, but his mouth took on a hint of a frown.

Petra sighed. “I think I witnessed a murder.”

“I see.”

“Do you?” She leaned toward him, gripping the edge of the desk. “You don’t think I was hallucinating?”

“I’d like to hear your story, but up until now, no, I wouldn’t take you for the kind of woman who uses recreational drugs or sees flying saucers. And I’ll be very disappointed if I find out I’m wrong about that.”

“What do you have against aliens?”

Joe cracked a smile. “Let’s hear it.”

Petra settled back in the chair and told him as calmly as she could what she had seen through Rex Harwood’s patio door. Her voice broke when she got to the part where the woman fell to the floor.

“She had to be dead. She had to be. Her face…” Petra shuddered. “I can’t get it out of my mind. And if she were alive, the police would have found her in the house. They said he let them search the entire building. But he was alone. And they arrived only a few minutes after I called them.”

Joe nodded slowly. “What do you think happened to the body?”

“I don’t know! If I did, I’d have told them, and I wouldn’t be going through this nightmare.”

“What nightmare?”

Petra told him about her sleepless nights, Mason’s un-characteristic barking and the anonymous phone calls. Joe made a few notes in a small notebook.

“Apparently this man is a professor,” she told him, “which for some reason makes him more credible than me.”

“Hmm.” Joe rubbed his jaw. “And you’ve seen the wife since then?”

“No. The police officer said they’d check on her.”

“I could look into this if you want me to.”

It was what she’d wanted to hear, but Petra wasn’t sure it would help. “What would you do?”

“I could look into Harwood’s background, see if he has a criminal record, talk to some people, ask a few questions, like whether he has a quick temper. Ask the other neighbors if they saw anything that night. And I’ve got a buddy in the Portland P.D. He might be able to tell me if Mrs. Harwood has resurfaced. All I know about this case is what you’ve told me, but you seem to think the police did a crummy job of making sure no one died that night.”

Petra’s heart pounded. He wasn’t brushing off her story, and she felt more confident than she had since it happened. “At the time, I felt as if they should have done more, but I’m not sure what. If your friend pokes around and doesn’t find anything, it might just make Rex angrier with me than he is now, if that’s possible.”

“You may be right,” Joe agreed. “I could do the background check, though. That wouldn’t alert him.”

She hesitated. Did she want to hire him? A private investigation would cost money. That wasn’t a problem, really. She thought it would be worth spending some cash to get to the truth. But what if Joe somehow antagonized Harwood further?

“The police seemed to believe him. They took his story over mine. I’m not sure I want to upset him again. I mean, if he was outside my house the other night, and if he is making these phone calls…Can I think about it?”

“Sure.” Joe reached into his shirt pocket and took out a business card, sliding it across the desk. “My office phone and my cell phone numbers are on here.”

She slipped it into her pocket. “I’ll call you in a day or two.”

He nodded, and his lips curved upward slightly. “Now, how about that lunch?”

“Oh, right!” Petra looked at her watch. “Come on, they must be wondering where I am.”

“You’ve got plenty?”

“Sure. Hey, let’s not mention this in front of the girls, okay? I decided not to tell them about it.”

“If that’s the way you want it.”

“Thanks. I don’t want them to worry about me. And thanks for listening.”

“Any time.” He closed his notebook. “Petra, if anything else happens and you don’t feel safe, call the police again. I know they’ve let you down, but they’re still there to protect you.”

She nodded, remembering her dismay when the officers treated her as though she were the wrongdoer. Joe’s warm, brown eyes had the opposite effect. Things would get better. Maybe he could uncover the truth of what happened that night.

Petra couldn’t help feeling anticipation as they went out to her car. Joe had just the hint of a dimple when he put his smile in high gear. Her stomach did that funny little flip she hadn’t felt in years. She handed him the cooler and picked up the bag with Keilah’s roll of fine wire. Maybe everything was going to be just fine.

T
hat evening the sisters pressed Petra once again to consider moving to Waterville.

“You know you could get a job in five seconds,” Keilah said. “And your house would sell right away. You’re in a nice, quiet neighborhood, and there’s a huge demand for housing in the Portland area. Please come.”

“I’ll think about it,” Petra told her. “Now I’d better get my things and hit the road.”

“Oh, can’t you stay one more night?” Bethany asked.

In the end, the thought of entering her empty house in the silent night tipped the scales. Petra slept well for the first time all week. She got up early, loaded her suitcase and Mason into her car and kissed her sisters goodbye. She drove out at six-thirty, figuring she would have time for a quick stop at home to settle Mason, then dash to the hospital.

She’d been on the interstate highway an hour when her cell phone rang.

“Miss Wilson?”

“Yes?” She tried to place the voice.

“This is Officer Stenwick, with the Portland Police Department.”

Her pulse picked up. “I remember you.”

“I wanted to update you on the complaint that you made.”

“Yes?” She pulled over and parked the car on the shoulder of the road.

“Our captain has decided to close this case. We found no evidence whatever of a crime.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, we interviewed Professor Harwood again, and also his wife. She’s alive and well. They’re sorry for the confusion you experienced, but they insist nothing happened, and the evidence supports them.”

Petra let out a long sigh. “So, that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Unless something new turns up?”

“Well…naturally.”

Right.
Her frustration nearly choked her, but she managed to say, “Thank you for letting me know.”

The officer hung up, and she pounded the steering wheel with her fist. From the backseat came Mason’s soft whine.

Suddenly she wished she weren’t headed home to Portland. She wished she were staying at the beautiful Victorian house in Waterville with her sisters. She never, ever wanted to see Rex Harwood’s face again. The offer to live with Keilah and Bethany now tempted her. If experienced nurses were as scarce here as they were in Portland, she could choose her place of employment. But it was a good thing she hadn’t told her sisters about the murder. They would worry about her too much.

She pictured Joe Tarleton suddenly, with his deep brown eyes that radiated warmth and understanding. A man like Joe Tarleton wouldn’t mothball a case after three days. He’d stay on it until he ferreted out the truth.

Joe looked like her best chance to find out what really happened in the Harwood home that night, perhaps her
only
chance. She gritted her teeth, knowing she couldn’t let it go. She refused to live near a murderer and be silent. Still, finding the truth could be dangerous. If Rex decided to strike again, it would be way too late to call the cops.

On Tuesday morning, Joe meandered into the gift shop. He hadn’t really expected to find Petra there, but even so, he felt a keen disappointment when he was greeted only by Keilah and Bethany. Keilah had donned coveralls and was holding a light bulb for a man standing on a stepladder. Bethany, dressed in a long denim skirt and checked blouse, was unpacking boxes of stationery.

“Morning, ladies.” Joe held out a box from the doughnut shop on upper Main Street. “Got coffee?”

“For you, anytime.” Bethany smiled and took the box.

A few minutes later Joe sat with the sisters at the card table in the back room.

“Found a secretary yet?” Keilah asked.

“No, not yet.” Joe picked out a butternut crumb doughnut. “That new answering machine I bought doesn’t work right. It told me I had three messages, then it erased them all. Or maybe I pushed delete instead of play, I don’t know.”

“You need a real person to take messages for you until you find a new secretary,” Keilah said.

“Want the job?” He raised his eyebrows and grinned at her, and she laughed.

Bethany stirred powdered creamer into her coffee. “We’re so busy I don’t think we can take on one more thing. And when the shop opens Monday…”

“We couldn’t go over to your office to answer the phone,” Keilah agreed, “but maybe there’s a way you could run an extension over here.”

Joe sat still, thinking about it. “You know, we could do that. Run the line in under the connecting door. We could put it right beside your phone, behind the counter. If my phone rang and no one answered on three rings, you’d pick it up. What do you say? It could save me from missing a job offer.”

“Well…” Bethany threw a discouraging look toward her sister.

“I could pay you a couple of bucks per message,” Joe said quickly.

Keilah pounced. “Oh, why not? It would help him.” She shrugged at Bethany.

Her sister frowned. “Well…”

“How many calls do you suppose Joe gets?” Keilah asked. “Can’t be more than one or two an hour, can it, Joe?”

He hated to admit it, but her estimate was optimistic. “Shouldn’t be any more than that. I’d appreciate it.”

“Oh, okay, but you get the phone set up. And if it interferes with our business, the deal is off.” Bethany scowled at him, but she rose and refilled his coffee mug.

Keilah smiled. “Joe’s going to have a new secretary within a week. I can feel it.”

With the Wilson sisters taking messages for him, Joe felt that it might happen. He took a deep sip of coffee and asked as casually as he could, “So, Petra got back to Portland okay?”

Keilah’s enthusiasm faded, and Bethany’s face went slack as though both were greatly disappointed.

“Yes, she left yesterday morning. We tried our best to persuade her to come up here permanently.” Bethany sighed.

“What did she say?”

“She admitted she’s lonesome down there in the city, but I don’t think she wants to leave her job. We’d love to have her up here.”

“We’ll tell her you asked about her,” Keilah said.

Joe decided it was best not to ask too many questions. He’d learned through casual conversation that Bethany was widowed, but neither of the other sisters wore wedding rings, and there had been no talk about husbands or boyfriends. He’d wondered a dozen times over the last few days about Petra. She interested him, for sure, and he didn’t want to assume things that might come back to kick him later. Still, Portland was quite a drive. If she wasn’t going to move closer, there wasn’t much point in thinking about dating her.

He couldn’t help wondering how she was doing, though. If the story she’d told him was true, her lawn bordered that of a murderer. Her distress had shown plainly on Sunday. Still, she hadn’t called. Maybe things had resolved themselves, and she’d learned that she’d been mistaken that night. But recalling her anguish and the clarity of her description made him doubt that. What she’d told him was true—at least, she believed it was.

“Come on, Joe.” Keilah rose and gathered their coffee mugs. “Let’s get that phone extension set up.”

He made a mental note to send flowers to the gift shop on opening day. Or if he had a secretary by then, she could do it for him. Petra’s sisters were about to have something to celebrate, even though they were unaware that their sister’s life might be in danger.

Petra clipped the leash to Mason’s collar and took him out through the garage. She was glad for the long days, with plenty of daylight left after she got home in the evening. Of course, tomorrow she had to work a double shift, and she wouldn’t leave the hospital until eleven o’clock. She’d have to call Alex, the boy who mowed her lawns, when she and Mason returned from their walk. Alex walked Mason on days when she worked long hours. She locked the door and pocketed her keys, then headed down the sidewalk toward the park.

Eloise Burton, the elderly woman who lived kitty-corner from Petra, was just coming out of her gray-shingled Cape Cod with her cairn terrier, Wexel, on a leash. Petra called to her and waved. Mason needed no urging to hurry his steps. They crossed the street and joined their neighbors near Mrs. Burton’s flower beds. The two dogs woofed and snuffled each other in greeting.

“Your lilies are gorgeous,” Petra said.

“Oh, thank you. I think they’re extra large this year. The Oriental ones out back are especially full and beautiful.”

They ambled toward the park, and Petra was glad for the white-haired woman’s company.

“Were you away last weekend?” Mrs. Burton asked. “I looked for you and Mason, but I didn’t see you.”

“Yes, I went to Waterville to visit my sisters.”

“Oh, you have family up there?”

“Now I do. Two of my sisters bought a house together.”

Mrs. Burton smiled. “How nice. I admit I was a little worried about you.”

“Oh?” Petra paused on the sidewalk as Mason stopped to sniff an azalea bush.

Mrs. Burton leaned toward her and whispered, “I saw a police car in your driveway one night last week.”

Petra had to smile. “Oh, that was…nothing really. I called them to check on something.”

A frown deepened the wrinkles on Mrs. Burton’s forehead. “Nothing serious, I hope?”

Petra hesitated. “You didn’t see anything odd that night, did you? In the neighborhood, I mean.” She knew asking was useless. Eloise couldn’t see the Harwoods’ house from her front windows.

“No. Not really. What night was it?”

“Thursday.”

“Oh, yes. Wexel and I walked that way.” Mrs. Burton nodded back behind them, indicating the way opposite her usual route toward the park. “I admit I was curious when I saw the squad car, so I walked past your house.”

Petra patted her arm. “I’d do the same thing if I saw a police car in your driveway.”

“Thank you, dear.” They reached the park and set off at a leisurely pace around the perimeter. “The odd thing was, when I got to the far corner, the police car came out our street and turned onto the next one instead of going toward town. So Wexel and I walked down that way. We saw them stop at another house.”

Petra opened her mouth and closed it again. The last thing she wanted to do was to frighten sweet Mrs. Burton.

Her companion smiled and shrugged. “I was mighty curious, I’ll tell you, but I decided we’d best turn around. However, when we came home about twenty minutes later, lo and behold, the police were back at your house.”

Petra nodded. “Yes, they…came back to assure me everything was all right. I thought I’d seen something at the house behind mine, and that perhaps someone was hurt. But it seems everything was fine over there.”

Mrs. Burton’s eyes glittered as she leaned toward Petra. “Ah, the Harwoods’ house?”

Petra glanced at her sharply. “Well…yes.”

“Thought so. That’s where the police car had been. They’re nice people, aren’t they?”

“I…don’t really know. I’ve spoken to them a few times.”

Mrs. Burton nodded. “Once I heard him speak at the women’s club. He told us all about the archaeological dig at Fort Williams. It was fascinating.”

“Oh, is that what he teaches?” Petra asked.

“Mmm-hmm, archaeology. And he’s on the city planning board, too. Quite the star you have living behind you.”

Petra’s throat went dry. No wonder the police were so quick to believe him. He probably had a spotless reputation for brilliance and community service, too.

“I don’t know him well,” she said again. She hoped Eloise wouldn’t ask her any more questions. Unless the police were ready to arrest Rex, there seemed no point in alarming her friend. Or maybe Eloise would take the policemen’s side and assure her that the professor could never do such a thing.

Petra told her about the gift shop and how she planned to go up again the next weekend to help with the final touches before the grand opening on Monday. Memorial Day was the opening of the tourist season in Maine, and her sisters expected a good turnout for their festivities.

Thinking of going to Waterville reminded her of Joe Tarleton, and Petra quickly stifled the thought. If she recalled too vividly his sympathetic brown eyes and handsome face, she’d blush. Eloise would pick up on it and start asking questions.

She kept the conversation going until they returned to Eloise’s driveway, managing to avoid romance and other sensitive topics.

Eloise paused and looked up at her before they parted. “I’ll miss you while you’re away. Wexel and I enjoy walking with you.”

Her plaintive voice gave Petra a twinge of guilt. They had been casual friends for more than ten years, now and then enjoying a cup of tea together. Lately, Petra’s work schedule had kept her busier than usual. She and Eloise hadn’t spent much time together over the winter. Now that the weather was warm and the bulky layers of clothing were left at home, she realized her neighbor had lost weight. For the first time since she’d met her, Mrs. Burton seemed frail.

“Maybe we can have supper together one evening,” Petra said.

Her friend’s eyes lit up. “I could bake macaroni. Do you like macaroni and cheese?”