The Sunset Witness

by Hayes, Gayle

  It seemed I sat at the drop leaf table a long time while looking at the mural and trying to remember the chain of events. I'd not looked at it closely before or after I ran from the house the week before. Deputy Nelson looked at it but did not touch it. Likewise, Detective Gannon looked at it up close but didn't touch the surface. Did the person who removed the knife to discredit Sarah also conceal the slit it created with more paint? That would have taken some time, unless the person was prepared and knew exactly what to do. I decided to call Detective Gannon and tell her I suspected the murderer had touched up the mural. Possibly, she would want to check paint purchases at local craft shops. She might have a list of suspects who knew Ryan Nichols. One of them might know something about art.

  Discovering the alteration to the mural right before I got into bed did not help my mood. I'd felt vulnerable and fearful my first two nights in the beach house. Now, I felt betrayed because Sarah had left me alone in Sunset to deal with the man she could identify. I was still trying to push away thoughts of Michael. I felt alone and sad. I wound the music box and listened to Beauty and the Beast. It didn't help. I found myself wondering what kind of beast murdered Ryan Nichols and then terrorized me.

  Saturday, June 11, 2011

  After taking a while to drift off to sleep Friday night, I wanted to sleep later Saturday morning. Instead, I got up early. According to the Robinsons, the faster road to Hoquarten was closed beginning Friday until repairs were finished. With the detour, it would take about twice as long to drive there and back before my shift at Twyla's.

  Thick fog made it difficult to see very far ahead. I was surprised it shrouded the road even after I'd driven several miles inland. A deer darted across the road after I emerged from a curve. I was tense and tried to concentrate on taking deep breaths to relax. Once the road left the mountain range, it was straighter. I enjoyed seeing various shorebirds in the bay, including herons wading near the shore. The sun had burned through the fog, casting a soft light on trees and water.

  Hoquarten was still sleeping when I arrived. I enjoyed not having traffic to consider as I quickly changed lanes to turn in a new direction. I'd Googled craft shops thinking I should find the artist canvas before I had fabric cut to certain dimensions. I found the craft shop easily enough. Once I found the canvas, I browsed the shop to satisfy my curiosity. I was surprised anyone would have time to devote to crafts. It appeared to be a big business. I was more inclined to buy the items someone else crafted. Several items tempted me, but I resisted the urge to buy anything. So far, I was able to move easily from one place to another with everything I owned in my car. I did not consider Sunset a permanent home, so I decided to wait until I had one before I invested in decorations. I was surprised to find fabric in the craft shop. I discovered a bolt with the right amount of material and a beach scene including a lighthouse, anchor, gulls, and a sailboat in bright red, blue, green, and yellow. It would add some cheerfulness to the kitchen. I found a stapler and a jar of decoupage, paid for everything with my tip money, and left the store.

  I found a Walgreens and bought a pregnancy test kit. I was four days overdue and anxious. Getting pregnant was not in my plans. I'd begun to have a semblance of a writing routine and was still getting adjusted to life in Sunset. I'd not been with anyone except Michael, and our relationship was rocky to say the least. Here I was hoping to dissuade him from carrying out the hit and ruining his life while facing the very real possibility I was carrying a new life we had created. I was beginning to have some signs I might be pregnant. On the other hand, I might be suffering from a late period because of the extreme emotional state of my life since I arrived in Sunset.

  My next stop was at the Post Office to collect the mail sent to me by general delivery. Although my lease with Dinah was for one year, I opted not to get a post office box for a while longer. I never received much mail. After recent events, I doubted I'd set down further roots.

  Aside from a reminder my car insurance payment was due in two months, I had a letter from a law office in Oregon. At first, I thought it must be in my general delivery basket by mistake. Then I remembered the accident I witnessed on my way to Sunset. I thanked the post office clerk, bought a book of stamps, and went to my car. The letter was from the attorney for the truck driver who'd hit the woman on the bicycle. The trucker's attorney was anxious to interview me. He thought I could testify that his client was not talking on his cell phone at the time of the accident. Evidently, it was important for his client not to have been talking on his cell phone. However, I clearly remembered he was. I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd simply call the attorney on Monday and tell him I couldn't help his client. I put his letter and the statement from my insurance company in my purse, and headed back to Sunset.

  I waved at Frank and Dennis as I passed them on Main Street and was relieved to see both of them were still all right. I needed to talk to Michael, but I'd not felt up to it until then. After almost three days to recover from the shock of his confession, I was less emotional. I had to talk him out of doing what would not only have taken Frank's life but ruined his own. I resolved to call him Sunday when I'd have the entire day to recover from a confrontation.

  When I arrived at the restaurant, the scruffy-looking man I'd first seen in the parking lot was setting up his equipment outside. He appeared to have had a shower and was wearing clean clothes. His hair was brushed away from his face. I remembered I'd noticed his accent when he wished me "g'day." I was surprised when Simone said the man had been hired to paint a pictorial tribute to the history of Sunset on the windows of the restaurant for Founders' Day.

  There seemed to be something in the air that night at Twyla's. Joel and I sang happy birthday to a middle-aged man who was clearly uncomfortable at the attention. Later, two couples sat at the same table, and the men nearly started punching each other after one of them toasted the other couple's anniversary. The wife of the man who had offered the toast must have had an affair with the other man. His wife pitched her wine at the other woman. After the two couples stormed out of the restaurant, it took some time to clean up the mess and extra effort to soothe the startled guests who remained. Joel joked that such events usually come in threes. Then a man who was, hopefully, too drunk to notice relieved himself in front of the windows with a view of the ocean. The moon would be full in a few days, which might have explained the primeval emotions of the evening.

  After the last guests had left, I balanced the cash drawer and prepared the deposit for Monday morning. Although I could have used the extra money, I was glad Twyla would be closed Sunday.

  Joel and Simone were in the kitchen discussing Breanna when I told them I was leaving. Joel said he'd walk home with me, and then he remembered he had something for me at his apartment. He asked if I was in a hurry to get home. I was actually glad to have an excuse not to go home alone. Michael was never far from my thoughts. Each room of the beach house sparked a memory of Michael as he licked wine from my lips, showered with me, or held me after making love.

  It was quite a hike up the hill to Joel's apartment. I vowed to get back to my exercise routine so the hike would not leave me out of breath the next time. Joel and I hadn't talked about Michael. I was unsure how to bring it up. I asked Joel if he'd heard from the roommate who was touring Europe. He said he actually preferred Michael in many ways and wished he planned to stay longer. I asked if Michael was leaving. Joel said he was leaving earlier than he'd thought. Joel was not surprised that I asked these questions. I assumed Michael had not mentioned our short, but passionate romance when Joel was preoccupied with Breanna.

  When we reached the sidewalk near Joel's apartment, I stopped and stood there for a minute or two to catch my breath and enjoy the view over Sunset. There were yard lights here and there below us. I could see the back of Frank's house and the roof of the restrooms in the parking lot of the beach access. Trees and shrubs blocked my view to the beach house. I enjoyed the intermittent flash of light from the lighthouse and the soun
d of the foghorn.

  Joel's apartment was a surprise. He was very neat in his appearance and meticulous as a waiter, so I was unprepared for the clutter in his apartment. A variety of shoes had been kicked off and pointed every which way at the entrance. Clothes were draped over chairs in the living room, cans of soda were abandoned on tables, and books and games were left open wherever they were last read or played. I wondered if he or Michael was the messy one.

  Joel excused himself to take a phone call, and I wandered around the room looking at the artwork on the walls. The paintings were modern and beyond my interpretation. I liked the choices of color and was surprised to see the artist had signed Breanna at the bottom right corner of each one. I thought we might've had a lot in common if we'd made the effort to get acquainted. Perhaps we clashed because we were so much alike. I had to admit she had a talent for painting.

  I was looking at the view from Joel's A-frame window when I heard Michael say my name. I was startled, and spun around, surprised to see him standing a little ways away. My first reaction was anger. I was sure Joel had nothing to give me and that Michael asked him to lure me to the apartment so he could ambush me. Then I remembered what Frank had said about Roxy. She believed in him, and he loved her for it.

  "Before you get mad, let me explain," Michael said.

  "I'm not mad. You startled me."

  "I knew I shouldn't have done this as soon as I heard you come in. It was a pretty juvenile move, I know. But I didn't think you'd let me in your house. I need to talk to you."

  "Let's leave Joel out of this. We can talk on the way to my place."

  Michael seemed shocked when I didn't scream at him again. He disappeared down the hallway and came back a minute later. We walked without talking until we reached the road from Sunset to the lighthouse. Then Michael thanked me for giving him another chance. As we descended the walkway above Sunset, I could see the parking lot and then the porch of the beach house. Michael still hadn't said a word in explanation, so I did.

  "I'm sorry I screamed at you and ordered you to leave. It wasn't like me. I lost it when you said you agreed to kill someone."

  "You were right to get angry. I was angry at myself. I don't know how I got so messed up. Mom did her best to give me a nice life. But I blamed her because I didn't have a dad. My real dad dumped her and then my step dad died in Iraq. She said she hadn't been close to her dad. She wasn't speaking to him when he died. I think she had her own issues, but I needed a father. That's no excuse for what I did, but I think I was trying to fill the hole in my life with things."

  "I didn't have a great relationship with my father until it was almost too late. I wished his clients weren't such an embarrassment. But I never refused anything he bought for me, either. On some level, I knew he was buying my approval," I said.

  "I had a lot of college debt on top of the stuff I bought on credit. Law school is expensive. Then a friend of mine wanted to celebrate his birthday with a night at the casinos. We saw a show and played some slots, blackjack, and roulette. I had a good night, and I couldn't wait to do it again. It seemed like the answer to my prayers. The next time I went alone. I was serious about winning. I left in the hole. I kept going back and getting in deeper and deeper."

  We had reached the parking lot, and I sat on the bench near the landing above the beach. Michael paced back and forth as he explained.

  "To make matters worse, I lost my job. I got hired right after the bar exam by a criminal defense firm in Vegas. I was the new kid on the block, and I took whatever shit no one else wanted. I was in the casino parking lot one night when I saw a robbery. The cops arrived and arrested the guy after he had the wad of bills in his possession. It was too perfect. I figured he must've been set up by somebody. Whoever it was could live without the wad of bills. They had a score to settle with the guy who took them. Anyway, the next Monday morning, I get this guy's file on my desk. I'm supposed to go before the judge and jury and tell them this guy didn't do it. I waited for my boss to get good and ready to talk to me and then I laid it on him. No way was I going to defend this guy. He gave me all this bullshit about my duty as an attorney. The guy deserved a competent defense, and he was going to get it from me. I quit on the spot. So now, I'm in debt and unemployed.

  "When I was offered the hit, I laughed at first. I thought the guy was joking. What do I know about killing anybody? He said I didn't have a record, so I was the last person anyone would suspect. He said the guy was old and going to die soon anyway. He said I'd be doing him a favor. I had a few drinks in me by then, and I wasn't thinking straight. When I woke up the next morning, I thought, 'shit, Michael, what have you done?' I couldn't believe I was so stupid. I swear to God, what happened next is the truth. I was begging God to help me, and the phone rang. It was Joel. We'd lost touch, and he was letting me know he was in Sunset and needed a roomy. He thought I was high 'cause I sounded so weird on the phone.

  "So I told the guy at the casino I was on my way to Sunset, and it might take a while to get in a position to where I could off the old man. I told him I'd take care of it. Of course, I had no intention of taking care of it, but I thought I could warn the guy, at least." Michael sat down next to me on the bench.

  He took my hand and looked into my eyes.

  "Rachel, that's what I was trying to tell you before. I know I can quit, because I see what gambling has done to my life. I could've handled the credit card and school debt over time, but now I owe a bunch of guys who wanted the money yesterday. They're going to be real pissed when they realize I didn't off the guy, either. They gave me a stolen gun and showed me how to use it."

  "I'm cold. Let's go inside. I'll fix some cocoa," I said.

  I was overwhelmed by Michael's confession. He didn't make excuses for himself. I could tell he realized where he'd gone wrong. I believed he'd stop gambling. I understood when he explained he'd been drinking, and the hit on the old man sounded less sinister than it did the next morning. I admired him for not defending the man who robbed someone else. It was a set of circumstances that would be hard for many people to fathom, but I'd seen how easily people dig holes for themselves when I worked at my father's law firm. Sometimes decent people get caught up in a series of events that lead them to do things they later regret. I suppose if I'd not been in love with Michael, I might have had less sympathy for him. But I was in love with him, and I wanted to help him climb out of the deep pit he was in so we could have a life together.

  We drank hot cocoa, cuddled on the futon with the afghan around us, and listened to Rachmaninov again. It seemed to be the soundtrack of our lives with periods of calm followed by intrigue. I had no idea what lay ahead. It wasn't only the amount of money but who the creditors were that worried me. It seemed we had three problems. Michael still had credit card and college debt along with gambling debts. He'd not carried out his contract on Frank. He was a witness to the staged robbery in the casino parking lot. He could probably restructure his credit card and college debt. There would be no negotiating with the owners of the casino. I had no idea how much he owed them, and it might take everything in my savings. The bigger problem was his failure to honor his contract on Frank. Dennis said someone would be coming for both of them. Would someone come for all three? There was no way out of that one. How much danger was Michael in for witnessing the robbery in the casino lot? A robbery would be one thing, but if he saw something staged by the mob, he'd have to be silenced. I closed my eyes, listened to the tide roaring into shore, and wondered how something so benign could have caused me so much fear. I was faced with real, imminent danger, and there seemed to be no escape.

  Sunday, June 12, 2011

  I woke up to the sounds of men's voices in the parking lot as they got gear together. After a half hour of shouted questions and good-natured banter, the last of the group headed for the beach with boards for surfing or windsurfing.

  Michael and I did a run on the beach and then walked back toward the beach house. He'd not yet made an effort
to find Dennis. He was surprised I knew him and also surprised to learn Dennis had been hired to hit Frank. He was told Dennis ratted on the mob. In view of De Luca's acquittal, Michael thought the hit had more to do with Dennis not fulfilling the contract on Frank. Michael was interested in Frank's story, partly because his mother had grown up in the Seattle area. I suggested calling Frank to ask if he was free to have brunch with us. Michael liked the idea. He also wanted to talk to Dennis.

  Frank was happy to hear from me and said he would call Dennis. We agreed to meet at the diner. While we ate, the conversation was light with talk of favorite sports teams and Frank's memories of growing up before, during, and after World War II. Dennis was twelve years younger than Frank, so he grew up in the aftermath of World War II and enjoyed the post-war prosperity. Dennis' most vivid memory was the assassination of President Kennedy. He was a truck driver at the time. He thought the mob was behind the assassination. Frank disagreed, saying he thought Kennedy was killed for planning to withdraw from Vietnam. Michael had been quiet. He calmly pointed out that Kennedy often said Vietnam was too important in preventing the spread of Communism to let it fail. Kennedy was proud of having beefed up the military-industrial complex and gave a speech about it the day he was killed. Michael agreed with Dennis. The mob wanted revenge, and the CIA made it easy for them.