The Witness Series Bundle

by Rebecca Forster

  "Sounds like he cared about more than profits."

  "Mr. Oi came from nothing. He knew what it was like to have a family to feed and no work. He kept a hundred families fed, and they turned against him. I think he was more outraged by the disloyalty than the union's actual demands. He kept to himself, but I could tell it was eating at him. I think it finally got to him this week. He was just off."

  "Could it have been something other than work? Maybe he had personal problems. A girlfriend?"

  "You mean the woman that lives with them? I didn't get the feeling he was involved with her."

  "Any other women?" Mike pressed.

  "I really wouldn't know, detective," Dan said. "He respected me as a businessman, and I respected him. I doubt he knew my wife's name or how many children I have. That's the kind of relationship he had with everyone here. Perhaps it was different in some of his other companies, but I doubt it."

  "You weren't cutting checks to women not employed here?" Mike pressed.

  "No." Dan was emphatic.

  "Were there any men that made you nervous? Money paid out? People who upset Mr. Oi so that his demeanor changed? Trips he took that did not seem to be directly tied to business?"

  "If you're talking about some sort of blackmail or a mistress, Mr. Oi would have dealt with it himself. I can account for every cent that goes through this company." Dan sighed. "There was one thing. It's probably nothing, but Mr. Oi wasn't himself when he came in that morning. I mean, the day it all happened."

  "What was different?"

  "Remember I said he had been preoccupied all week? Well, that morning he was more than agitated. He locked himself in his office. He came out a little past three. That was the last time I saw him." Dan tossed his pen on the table and put his fists to his eyes. He rubbed them hard and when he dropped his hands he looked like a college kid who had pulled an all-nighter. "Boy, I hope I never have to go through anything like this again."

  "I hope so, too," Mike commiserated. "So no one saw him that day after three, is that correct?"

  "No, sorry, I saw him. Just not in the usual way, you know. Usually his door was open, he'd be up and down all day, going around checking the things, looking in on the line. That day the office door was closed. I went in around noon. He was on the phone and hung up as soon as he saw me. I had a lot of stuff that needed taking care of. Invoices needed to be signed. There was a problem getting a shipment of chrome out of Europe because the Albanians hadn't filled out the environmental impact paperwork properly. And there was a scuffle out front. One of the salaried employees and a temp got hassled trying to get in the building.

  "It was a busy day but he didn't even want to know about what was going on outside. He signed what he had to sign and sent me away. I saw him go to the restroom at three. The door closed. I didn't see him again."

  "Did you get a sense of what he was doing the rest of the time?"

  "The safe was open. I remember that."

  "Was that unusual?" Mike asked.

  "Kind of, since I didn't know it existed. It was a wall safe behind a picture. I remember thinking it was like an old movie."

  "Did you see what was in it? Anything you could identify?"

  "There was something in it, but I couldn't tell you what. I just noticed it, did my business with Mr. Oi, and that was it. I never would have mentioned it to anyone if it hadn't been for what happened. The police saw it. Mr. Oi must have been in a hurry because he didn't close it all the way." Dan sat forward and picked up his pen again. "So, you'll let me know if I can let Kat in?"

  "We'll leave the office sealed for now. I'll advise her." Mike drummed his fingers on the table, and then asked: "Who takes over in case anything happens to Mr. Oi?"

  "The board is going to move someone in temporarily. Everyone is scrambling right now."

  Mike made appreciative noises and moved on with his questions.

  Do you know the name Rosa Zuni?

  Anything about the address where Mr. Oi died?

  The name Jak Duka?

  Did you ever see Mr. Oi with a gun?

  When the answers were no, no, no, and no, Mike made a note, underlined something and said:

  "What about disagreements among the board members, employee problems? Anything that comes to mind."

  "Got it all here." Dan was happy to be on home turf. Xeroxes flew across the table along with explanations.

  We keep a record of anything that might possibly lead to legal action–

  Simple customer complaints–

  Defective items, quality control issues, missed deadlines–

  Mike stacked the papers as quickly as Dan Jenkins handed them over. He glanced at each one, flipped through correspondence from disgruntled customers, Oi's legal team, and reports on manufacturing problems. Wendy would spend hours pouring over these documents, but Mike gave them all a once-over as Dan went on.

  "If any of this was a matter of life or death, I would have known about it. Remember, Mr. Oi is – was – full owner of five different businesses that intersect with both the automotive and the airline industry. He also has interests in manufacturing heavy equipment for the port. This would include trucks, forklifts and even the container cranes. These only represent Marshall Fasteners' open complaints. There are others in various stages of completion. Some we're fighting. Some are on appeal. Some will die a natural death. Some we'll settle to save court costs. Mr. Oi wanted to fight every action, but he could be brought around."

  "He was a very busy man," Mike commented.

  "He was quite hands off, actually. He knew everything that went on, but he only micromanaged one thing."

  "And that was?"

  "The negotiations with the union." Dan Jenkins jerked a thumb toward the closed door behind which Mr. Oi's effigy sat. "They're the ones that did that. It wouldn't surprise me if one of the security guards let them in. It wouldn't surprise me if one of them killed Mr. Oi. He was a strong man, but they are thugs. You want to look at someone. Look at Mark Wolf. Or how about Sam Lumina? He's a troublemaker. Swaggering bastard. I think he scared some people."

  "Even Oi?"

  "No," Dan said sadly. "Maybe that was Mr. Oi's mistake."

  ***

  Josie paced back and forth in front of Billy's bed, speaking quickly and quietly into her phone. She didn't want to disturb Billy, but if he woke and had something to say she wanted to be there to hear it. When she walked one way, Josie looked into the hospital hall; when she walked the other way she could see out the window and onto the parking lot. Mike Montoya was on the other end of the line looking through the windshield of his car, waiting for a traffic light to change.

  "We should have toxicology in the next two days," he assured her when she told him about Trey and the bath salts.

  "I'm not saying Billy did salts, I'm saying that guy who brought them might have flipped out. Maybe that's why Billy was in the water – to get away from this guy."

  "Ms. Bates, if he just admitted to you that he was in the house and that bath salts were a factor-"

  "He didn't say he was using. He said he was in the house, but he said this guy brought the drugs," Josie insisted. "What happened in that house could only be done by someone who was strung out."

  "And the motive would be?"

  Traffic was moving forward, but not as fast as Josie Bates was moving. Mike was processing this information, but he couldn't be as excited about it as she seemed to be. One guy strung out might have gone on a rampage, but he would not have come to Rosa Zuni's house armed to the teeth. A hurt kid muttering something in the hospital had to be taken in context.

  "Good grief," Josie exclaimed. "Take the information and plug it in. You've got a mystery, Montoya. There's got to be something that ties all this together and drugs is as good as any explanation."

  Josie paused. She pushed back her long bangs and rolled her eyes. She sounded like a fishwife. She knew it, but Montoya sloughed it off, and asked fo
r the names of the people at the pier. Josie gave the information to him and added:

  "The Hermosa cops will know who they are. I can give you a contact." Josie paused. "Maybe this Trey guy was dealing for someone in that house. At least you can tell the lab what to look for. Oh, and Montoya?"

  "Yes, Ms. Bates?"

  "Hannah remembered that the man at our door was wearing a cheap blue jacket. The rain made the dye run, and the guy's wrists were blue tinged. Knit cuffs, not elastic. It was zipped up and there was a logo and–"

  Josie was about to tell him her impression of the logo but the phone fell away from her ear. She could hear Montoya calling to her. She raised the phone again.

  "I'll call you back."

  Josie snapped the phone shut and walked into the hall. She looked one way then the other trying to spot the man who had come into Billy's room only to duck out again. He could have been an orderly, he could have been a visitor who made a wrong turn, he could have been a cop, but something told her he was none of the above.

  Josie went down the hall, turning her head at every sound, following air that was prickly with something the man had left in his wake: nerves, concern, shame, confusion. She stopped in front of a room at the end of the hall. She could hear a nurse's steady stream of conversation. Josie pushed the door open just far enough to see that this was a private room. Past the curtain, she saw flashes of a nurse tending to her patient.

  "Can I help you?"

  Startled, unaware that she had been standing and staring long enough to garner attention, Josie stepped back. A bald, clean-shaven man was seriously considering that she might be up to no good.

  "No," Josie said. "Thanks."

  She went back the way she came, feeling the man's eyes on her. Everyone in this hospital was looking for an assassin. Not that she could blame them for being skittish. Evil recognized no boundaries: movie houses, churches, grade schools, so why not hospitals? She was almost back at Billy's room when her phone rang.

  Josie answered it, listened, promised she'd be on her way in minutes, and went back to Billy's room to get her purse. He was asleep so she didn't linger. He probably wouldn't remember she had been there or what he had said to her. Just as well. There was another fire sparking and Josie was going to make sure she stomped it out.

  ***

  The man inside the bathroom heard the nurse wash her hands at the sink in the room. He prayed she wouldn't come into the bathroom, but if she did he was ready. He wouldn't kill her, but he would make sure she didn't remember him. He closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall, and sweated. He heard the water shut off and the nurse tug on the towel dispenser.

  Once again, things went quiet. He strained to hear anything that would let him know if she was still out there, but he heard nothing. He glanced at the toilet. He wanted to pee. No, he wanted to throw up. He was frightened, which was weird. He hadn't been frightened before. Before he'd felt like a goddamn king of the world. Now he felt like a little kid hiding from the Boogie Man. And, like a little kid, all he wanted was to get away and run to someone who would protect him or find somewhere he could hide.

  Opening the door a little further, he smashed his cheek against it and rotated to get a better look the other way. He could hear a laugh track on the television. His palms were sweaty. He wiped them on his pants and then again on his blue jacket. He stripped off the jacket and folded it over his arm. Knowing his escape had to be now or never, he chose now.

  Half expecting to be confronted, he was relieved to find no one around. On the television the same group of people laughed the same laugh again. He moved swiftly toward the hall door, lay as flat as he could against the wall, and peered out. A second later, he left the room and started to walk. Long and wide, the hall seemed to undulate in front of his eyes as if he were walking on the pitching deck of a ship. He was almost to the end of the hall, hurrying on, head down, thinking of nothing more than getting out of the hospital when he ran into a man.

  "Sorry." Instinctively, he looked up as he spun away. Still moving as he held out his hands in apology. "Sorry. Sorry."

  "No problem," the bald orderly said.

  The man went on. Everything was good. His shoulders pulled back, his chest puffed out. He had not done what he'd come for, but he at least saw the kid. He turned into the lobby and ran for an elevator. He called 'hold it' and a hand shot out, stopping the doors just in time. He squeezed in.

  "Thanks," he said.

  "No problem."

  Josie Bates reached for the button to close the doors, and that was when the man started to sweat again.

  CHAPTER 12

  1998

  Once again Teuta traveled alone to the house where her parents had lived. Yilli was gone many years and now the old woman was dead. She had been dead a long while when she was found and that saddened Teuta. No one should be alone when they died.

  Now the mother was buried and Teuta sat in the light of the fading day in the house of her childhood, remembering when there had been goats, and work, and smells of good food cooking. Her father and mother had no understanding of investments, they had no money to give the government, so they had not suffered as the rest of the country did, as she, Teuta, and her family did.

  Teuta was sitting, starting to think of her own family – for what good was it to think of her parents now that they were dead? – when she heard the sound of a car bumping over the uneven ground. She looked out the window, curious but not curious enough to get up until the car stopped and a big man got out.

  Teuta narrowed her eyes to try to see him better. She touched her headscarf. She arranged her face not so much in a scowl but in an expression that said she was not afraid to be alone and have a visitor she might not want. But then a woman also got out of the car and then a child.

  It was only the family who would live in the house, come to see if they liked the rooms. Teuta welcomed this family and wished them happiness. She did not say that it had been a sad house for her father, Yilli.

  When they had looked in all the rooms and went away saying they were pleased that they would live there, Teuta slept in her childhood home one last time. In the morning she left the house and did not have a regret. In fact, a great weight was lifted off Teuta. She now lived far, far away. In her new home no one would know hers were the children of Yilli the goat herder's child.

  2013

  Archer drove down Century Boulevard near LAX. Traffic was moving through a canyon created by the rise of nondescript airport hotels, unmemorable restaurants, and dated office buildings. Archer's destination was somewhere between the legitimate airport businesses and downtown in a no man's land of dollar stores and strip joints.

  Before he left Hermosa, he talked with Adam over eggs and bacon at Burt's. Adam confirmed that on the night in question Billy was in a good mood as always; Cher was suggestive and stoned, as always. The third guy, Trey, had come and gone with Billy. He and Cher left soon after Billy and Trey. It was late and Cher's constant chatter got on Adam's nerves. Not to mention it was cold and incredibly wet. The surf, though, was awesome.

  Yes, they had all smoked a little weed; no, Adam hadn't seen any bath salts. Adam didn't know anything about Rosa Zuni. Luckily, Archer knew a little bit more than Adam. A quick call to the landlord after Josie gave him the woman's full name landed him the name of her employer, but the management company wasn't going to give some private cop information on the owner of the building. He could look it up in public records. Public real estate records weren't going to tell Archer what he needed to know about Rosa Zuni so he headed to where she worked: Undies. He pulled the Hummer into a parking lot that needed to be repaved and took a look around.

  It was ten in the morning, and the joint was open. Actually, the place never closed. The doors opened at 5:30 a.m. and closing time was 2:00 a.m. Archer always wondered what moral parameters three and a half sober hours satisfied. Of course, that assumed patrons were actually sober during those hour
s and not just drinking in their cars until Undies opened once again.

  Archer set the emergency brake and yawned. The last thing he wanted to see in the morning were half-naked women holding onto poles while they pretended to dance. Strike that. He didn't mind seeing Josie half-naked anytime of the morning. Right now all he wanted to see was the back of his eyelids, but there was work to be done. He needed to find a thread that would lead him to a relative of the Zuni's, and if all went well, hook him up with Trey the mystery man.

  Archer was considering his two chores when a Chevy drove into the lot. The car was old and on its last legs; not so the woman who got out of it. Archer draped his arm over the steering wheel, lowered his sunglasses and took in all her glory.

  She wore purple leggings, a red tank top, a multi-colored scarf, and stiletto-heeled platform sandals. Her hair was long, curly and growing out brown from a magenta dye job. On Rodeo Drive she would have looked like a movie star, a fact that Archer lamented. Hollywood used to do glamor like nobody's business but now it was all about looking like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed, inking every appendage with faux Chinese poetry, and acting like you were pissed off all the time. The woman hefted a giant bag over her shoulder and when she turned around it was clear that the only films she might have starred in were X rated. It was amazing she could even stand given the massive boobs that had taken root on her top half. What made the sight so incredible was that the damn things looked real.

  She pushed the door shut with a thrust of her hip, didn't bother to lock the vehicle, pulled her bag close, strode across the lot, and opened the front door to the building. Archer got out of the Hummer, locked it, and followed her into Undies.

  ***

  "Hannah broke two of Tiffany's fingers, Ms. Bates. The girl's mother is talking about suing." Mrs. Crawford's voice remained steady, but it was clear that she was shaken.