The Witness

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  “Anyway, Mr. Carlton hadn’t heard of it because he emigrated from Ireland in the early Nineties, but he did tell me that every year since 1992 – that’s when he opened his shop – a woman has come in to sell a quantity of sovereigns. And I’m talking a large quantity, Liv. But get this. The last four or five years, the woman has been bringing double the usual number of coins. And it turns out she was just at his shop in November. He’d always wondered about her and had even tried to start up a conversation, but she wasn’t very talkative. The last few times she was there, she requested the proceeds from the sale be wired to an account in the Caymans.”

  “Did he contact the authorities?” Olivia asked. Brian grabbed the pad of paper by Olivia’s landline and started writing.

  “No, but he reported the transaction as required by law,” Vonnie said. “This is on the up and up.”

  Brian pushed the pad toward Olivia, who asked the question he had written out. “Vonnie, does Mr. Carlton happen to have video in his shop?”

  Vonnie chuckled. “He does. And he’s got clear footage of the woman.”

  “I love you, Vonnie. Really,” Olivia said.

  “Glad to be of help,” Vonnie said. “Anyway, Mr. Carlton is happy to help. He won’t be back in the US for a couple of weeks, but he told his son what was going on. I’m texting you the son’s contact info right now. He’s expecting to hear from you, Liv.”

  “Thanks, Vonnie.”

  “No problem. You can fill me in on the details when I see you in February. This was a long shot, and I can’t believe it paid off. Anyway, we’ve got some catching up to do.”

  “We do. Safe travels,” Olivia said.

  After she hung up the phone, she turned to face Brian. “We may have just found Cynthia Engstrom’s murderer.”

  “Agreed. And it’s a woman,” Brian said.

  Olivia called Cary Carlton’s son, who agreed to send the video footage to Brian and Olivia first thing tomorrow morning.

  Chapter 34

  Olivia

  Friday, January 16

  The next morning, Olivia called Gwen Kyleson and told her what Vonnie had discovered. Gwen was surprised and asked Olivia and Brian to contact Detective Rathman. Rather than have her own investigators work the case, Gwen had kicked it back to the Central Marin Policing Authority. The case had in turn been assigned to Detective Rathman, who was the senior detective. As for communicating with Ebby, Olivia left it in Brian’s hands.

  At 10:30, Detective Rathman came to the office. After Olivia briefed him on Vonnie Wilson’s discovery, he said, “That’s a long shot that paid off.”

  “Olivia likes the long shots,” Brian said.

  “Just being thorough, Detective,” Olivia had said.

  “I heard that you went to the DA about Seth Woodson,” Rathman said. “He got fired. Did you know that?”

  “I’m once again amazed at the way information travels in this county,” Olivia said, refreshing her email. They’d been waiting since 8:30 for Cary’s son to send them surveillance video. “It’s here.”

  Brian and Detective Rathman went to stand behind her as she downloaded the video and hit play. At first, the video was grainy, and for a minute Olivia worried that the quality would be so bad, they wouldn’t be able to see much. But after a few seconds the film became clearer and depicted an empty store, with glass cases along two walls and an unobstructed view of the front door. The front door opened. A woman stepped inside, dressed in a long black coat and a floppy hat. A disguise? She carried a duffel bag over one shoulder. Given the way she struggled to lift it up to the counter, Olivia bet it was heavy. When an elderly man – presumably Cary Carlton – came into the frame, the woman took off her hat and extended her hand, which the elderly gentleman shook. When Mr. Carlton slid the duffel down the counter, the woman moved in the same direction. Soon her face was lined up with the camera lens. Olivia, Detective Rathman, and Brian all gasped in unison.

  “It’s Melinda Engstrom,” Olivia said. The wheels in her mind turned, as she mentally sorted through the evidence, rearranging it like a puzzle to fit this scenario.

  “I need to move on this. Can you send me an email of that footage?”

  “Sure,” Olivia said. But Detective Rathman didn’t hear her. He was hurrying out of the office, barking orders into his cell.

  “What should we do?” Olivia asked Brian.

  “Nothing,” Brian said. “We stay right here and let Rathman do his job.”

  Chapter 35

  Ebby

  Friday, January 16

  Ebby valued his employees and knew that he especially owed his success to his friend Javier. Not only had Javi and his father helped Ebby build his cottage, Javier had worked tirelessly with Ebby, putting in long hours without complaint, while they built up The No Name Diner. It had been two weeks since Ebby had collapsed at the restaurant and Javi had driven him home. Since then, his friend had been running the restaurant single-handedly. Since The No Name Diner opened at 7 o’clock for breakfast, Ebby and Javier had met at the restaurant that Friday morning, sitting at a table, sharing a big breakfast, while the business they had built together bustled around them. The meeting had been fruitful. Ebby had made an offer. Javier had said he’d think about it.

  With a feeling of cautious optimism, Ebby had gone for a long walk on the Corte Madera Larkspur bike path before heading to Felicity’s apartment. By the time he got back home, it was 10:30. Felicity’s bedroom door was still shut. Unusual for her, as she was one of those women who rose with the sun and slayed her to-do list before lunchtime.

  Ebby put his ear to her door, listening for any sign that she was awake. “Felicity?” he called out. No answer. The door wasn’t locked, so Ebby slowly pushed it open, only to discover not only was Felicity’s room empty, but her bed had been made, and her purse and laptop bag were gone. Worried now, he dialed her number, but the call went straight to voicemail. Something wasn’t right. Felicity wouldn’t have left so early without telling him. Ebby didn’t know what to do. Call the police? And tell them what? Felicity was an adult. There was no evidence of foul play.

  Had she gone back to the Engstrom house for some reason? No. Felicity wouldn’t have gone back there, not without telling him first. Not after she’d made it so clear that she was tired of Melinda, tired of the memories. What to do? He decided to call Elodie and ask her if by chance she had seen Felicity, when his phone beeped, signaling a new text. When Felicity’s name popped up as the sender, he started to breathe a sigh of relief, until he read the message.

  Went to collect my paycheck from Melinda. My car won’t start. Can you come and get me?

  Without thinking, Ebby grabbed his keys and headed toward the house he swore he would never set foot in again. On the way over, he couldn’t shake the unexplainable feeling that something just wasn’t right. His heartbeat quickened when he reached the family property. He slowed when he reached the gate to the driveway. The winter trees bare of their leaves gave Ebby a view of the Engstrom house, which stood in shadowy relief against the gray winter sky. As he headed up the drive, he remembered that Felicity didn’t get paychecks. Her wages were automatically deposited into her account. Pushing away the panic that threatened to take away his reason, Ebby turned into the drive and headed toward the house. Without thinking, he hid his car behind an old, dilapidated shed and headed up to the house on foot. Cell phone in hand, he crept up the driveway, staying in the shadow cast by the tall shrubs that grew along the way.

  The house was seemingly empty when he let himself into the kitchen. A knot of fear had formed in his stomach. He wanted to call out to Felicity, but he stayed silent as he stood in the center of the room, heart pounding. Unable to shake the feeling that he had stupidly walked into some sort of a trap, Ebby took out his cell phone and dialed Olivia.

  “I was just about to call you,” she said. “It’s Melinda.”

  “What do you mean?” Ebby asked.

  “We’ve got video of Melinda selling th
e sovereigns. Where are you?”

  “I’m at the main house.”

  “Ebby, listen to me. Turn around and leave. Right now. The police are on the way—”

  Ebby held the phone away from his ear. He was so engrossed in the vivid memories, bright and clear as a spring day as they ran before his mind’s eye.

  “I can’t. I’m remembering. I’m remembering everything,” Ebby said before he dropped his phone.

  Chapter 36

  Ebby

  Friday, January 16

  Head pounding, Ebby woke up on the kitchen floor, the hard tile cold under his cheek. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, wanting to hold on to this last bit of time before he faced his past, faced the events he had witnessed that had nearly destroyed his life. He had finally remembered. Everything. The blood, his mother’s lifeless eyes staring at him.

  “Ebby, you’ve remembered, haven’t you?” The voice was kind, as it had always been. He rolled on his back. “Let’s get you into the living room. Felicity is waiting for us.”

  Mind racing and unsure how to process his memories from the night of the murder and his current situation, Ebby followed Fiona into the living room. Felicity sat on the couch, looking terrified. Her cell phone was in her lap, and Ebby wondered why she hadn’t called the police. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Felicity gave a subtle shake of the head, a silent request that Ebby not speak, while Fiona sat down on the couch, lifted up The Wall Street Journal that had been left open. A gun sat on the table. Fiona picked it up and leaned back.

  When Ebby’s mother died, Elodie had stepped in as his guardian and had loved him like a mother. She could always be counted on to provide emotional support and a soft spot to land. She made his favorite cookies and knew just to what to say when he felt the expected loneliness any child would feel at the loss of their parents. Meanwhile, Fiona was in the background, supporting her sister in the care and raising of a vulnerable young boy. As the family tomboy, it had been Fiona who taught Ebby to throw a curve ball and build a fire in the rain. Fiona, the fearless soul, who had taught him how to swim in the ocean and dive under the waves to swim past the breakers. Fiona, who took him surfing, paddling out with him on a long board, encouraging him to “Put your hands on the deck and stand up, Ebs.” He’d never forget riding that first wave, that feeling of freedom, as though he had harnessed the ocean. All due to Fiona.

  When his brother and Melinda had scorned him for his love of cooking and feeding people, Fiona had encouraged him to take over the diner and start his own restaurant, even providing the seed money he needed. She had been a career woman, a successful stockbroker in a male-dominated industry, a ferocious warrior with an eye for numbers and a knack for sports. She had always been there when Ebby needed her.

  But the aunt he revered had murdered his mother in an unspeakably violent way, and Ebby had seen it happen.

  Ebby turned to Felicity, and with a quavering voice asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Of course she’s all right. I’m not going to hurt either you or Felicity. I’m sorry for deceiving you both to get you here.”

  “Then why do you have a gun?” Ebby demanded.

  Ebby watched his aunt as she stood, took the gun, and moved to the window, where she stood with her back toward him, staring into the gray winter day, the gun held loose at her side. The swell of the dowager’s hump between Fiona’s shoulders served as a stark reminder of the years that had passed. He should have been furious at this woman who had killed his mother. He should hate her. But he didn’t. As he inventoried his feelings – a trick he had learned in therapy – he realized that all he felt now was exhaustion.

  “The police will be here soon,” Fiona said, as she moved away from the window.

  “What are you up to?” Ebby asked, eyeing the gun.

  “I’m going to confess.” Fiona turned to Felicity. “Are you ready?”

  Felicity gave Ebby an uncertain glance before she nodded.

  Fiona reached in her pocket with her free hand and tossed Felicity her cell phone. “Say the words, Felicity. Just how we discussed.”

  “What’s this about?”

  “You’ll see, Ebby. I’m clearing the way for you to be free of us. You and Felicity can start afresh, with Elodie.” Fiona turned her attention to Felicity.

  “Are you ready?”

  Felicity nodded.

  “And you give me your word that you will email this to the reporter at the Marin Independent Journal? You need to promise me you’ll send it before the police confiscate your phone.”

  “I will,” Felicity said. A lone tear ran down her cheek.

  “Go ahead. Say it just as we discussed.”

  When Felicity spoke, her voice was wobbly. “Today is Friday, January 16th, 2015. We are here to film the confession of Fiona Engstrom for the murder of Cynthia Engstrom.”

  “Fiona, wait,” Ebby said, his eyes flicked to the gun as he realized how this scenario was going to end.

  “No. Now is the time, Edward. I’ve carried this burden all these years and it’s broken me.” Fiona walked over to Felicity and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ears. When Felicity cowered, Fiona pulled her hand back. “I’m so sorry, Felicity, to bring you into this. Once this is over, you can begin healing. Elodie and Ebby will take you into the fold.” She turned to Ebby and said, “I lured you and Felicity here because I want you both to know what I did and why I did it.”

  “I would have come voluntarily,” Ebby said.

  Fiona shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t have. You made it very clear that you were never going to set your foot in this house again. Ebby, dear, you were a stubborn child and you are a stubborn man.”

  Ebby didn’t need to hear Fiona’s confession now that he’d remembered every word she had uttered to his mother on the night of her death, when Fiona had unleashed a litany of accusations that made Ebby’s mind reel. He wanted to believe Fiona’s accusations were a misunderstanding, that his mother wasn’t capable of the horrible things his aunt had suffered at her hands. But as the events of the evening sprung unbidden into Ebby’s mind, he knew in his heart that his mother had provoked Fiona, had hurled a litany of insults, like arrows to the heart, in response to the accusations. He knew because he had borne witness, and the horror of it all had caused his amnesia.

  “Don’t confess,” Ebby said. “The police don’t have any evidence.”

  “I never in a million years thought I would get away with it. You saw me, Ebby, and I’m sorry about that. Your mother pushed me to madness. God, we hated each other. Sometimes I think she married your father just to spite me. Your amnesia, though a tragedy for you, was a blessing for me. I’m ashamed of that, but it’s true. And I felt so guilty, that I almost turned myself in. But then I decided to wait it out, wait for the police to arrest me, but they didn’t.”

  “How did you come to be at the house that night?” Ebby asked.

  “Bertie and I went to dinner at the beach—”

  “Who’s Bertie?” Felicity asked.

  “Bertie was my lover of many years,” Fiona said. “That night, he had to get home, so he left my house early. Cynthia called me just after he left and told me her brother was going to move into the house after he was released from jail. I was so furious at her. I got in the car and drove here to confront her. I was so angry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  “My uncle raped you,” Ebby said.

  “Your uncle ruined my life. He took everything from me.” Fiona took a step toward Felicity.

  “Let me start at the beginning. Cynthia North and I became friends when we were thirteen years old. We met at summer camp, when we both snuck out of our bunks in the middle of the night to raid the refrigerator. After that we were inseparable, like sisters. Cynthia usually came to our house. She was impressed by the trappings of wealth. My mother didn’t trust her, and I felt like such a hero defending her.”

  The room was cold. Fiona moved to the
fireplace, striking a match and tossing it into the pile of shredded newspapers and kindling, while Felicity tracked her with the phone. “We were juniors in high school when she did something terrible, the worst kind of betrayal. Elodie and I went to the movies. Cynthia was there with her older brother, Gary. He was seventeen years old and had a car. It was good to see her. We got to talking, and when the movie was over they offered to give me a ride home. I left Elodie to ride home with Mom and Dad and took a ride with Cynthia and Gary instead.”

  Over Fiona’s shoulder, Ebby saw a policewoman in the doorway between the entry hall and the living room, quiet and as unobtrusive as shadows. Fiona didn’t notice as the detective made eye contact with Ebby and Felicity and put her fingers to her lips.

  “I knew something was wrong when they missed the exit for my house and kept going. I’ll never forget sitting in the front seat between the two of them. They looked at each other, and Cynthia nodded. I recognized the unspoken communication between siblings. They had a scheme, and I was the target. I felt like a field mouse with two hawks circling above.” Fiona stopped narrating long enough to throw a log on the kindling that had caught fire. When she spoke, her cadence was flat, her emotion clearly spent. “When we arrived at Cynthia’s house, I asked to use the telephone. I wanted to call my parents and have someone fetch me. Of course, they told me to go on in and use the phone in the kitchen.”

  Fiona closed her eyes and with her free hand, she reached up and clutched at her blouse. “I sensed Gary behind me. When I turned around, the look in his eyes …” Fiona shivered. “I can still remember it to this day. Positively demonic. I pushed him, somehow managing to knock him off his balance, and started to run. Cynthia tripped me. Sent me sprawling on my belly. Then she held me down and pinned my arms, while her brother raped me.”

  “Oh, Fiona,” Ebby said. He started to go to her.

  “I was so ashamed. They drove me home. I remember locking myself in the bathroom. I took a shower and tried to scrub Gary North out of my body.” Fiona spoke in a monotone, as she stared straight ahead. “Elodie knew something had happened, but I couldn’t tell her. I thought if I didn’t talk about it, the memory would fade. If I pretended nothing happened, I could go back to being that innocent, trusting young woman who went to the movies with her sister.” She laughed, a dry mirthless sound that broke Ebby’s heart. Tears flowed down her wrinkled cheeks unchecked. “Life went on. I graduated from high school and moved to Boston to attend college. I was about to start my senior year when I discovered that Elliot, my brother with the most gentle soul, was dating Cynthia, that they had fallen in love, and that somehow Cynthia North – the girl from the wrong side of the tracks – had managed to charm my parents.