The Sunset Witness Read online

  After I left the tea room and while I was puzzling over the miscommunication between Sarah and Twyla, I realized I still had not heard from Sarah. I decided to wait until noon when she would be at lunch to call her.

  Then I saw the man who was catching his breath when I was about to walk down the stairs to the beach. He came out of one of the cabins, got into an older Buick that was parked at the curb, did a U-turn, and drove past me. That was the first time I noticed the road leading south from the junction and following the coast.

  Before I returned to the beach house, I crossed the street and walked to Frank's house. He was sitting in a rocking chair on the front porch.

  "Good morning, Frank," I said.

  "Hello there, young lady. I guess I don't know your name."

  "It's Rachel Douglas. I was just hired as a waitress at Twyla's and don't have anyone to share my good news with."

  "Well, congratulations. I'll make it a point to eat there," he said.

  "I'll be working the dinner shift until 9 p.m. I'm taking over Sarah Duncan's place."

  "Don't believe I know her. Say, could I ask you a favor now that you're here?"

  "I'd love to do you a favor. What do you need?"

  "I lost a button off my blue sweater yesterday. I had it in my hand one minute, and the next it was gone. I think it rolled under the bed. Could you find that for me and thread a needle so I can sew it back on?"

  Frank's request was unexpected and reinforced my feeling that I belonged in Sunset. I had a job and my first new friend, too. I went into the bedroom, found the button easily, and located the blue thread and needle on top of his dresser. I brought the items to the porch and sat in the rocking chair next to Frank. I insisted on sewing on the button. I was happy he did not insist on paying me.

  "How long have you lived in Sunset?" I asked.

  "Not long. I'm from Seattle originally, but I've lived in Billings, Montana for the last twenty-four years. I never did get used to it, so I came back to the ocean to die."

  "You look pretty healthy to me, Frank. What were you doing in Billings?"

  "Trucking. I was a paper pusher, though, not the long-haul stuff."

  "I went to the university in Missoula. Are you familiar with that part of the state?" I asked.

  "My son drove me through there on the way out here. That's about it."

  "I'm glad to hear you have a family. The waitress at the diner said you didn't," I said.

  "Gloria's right. My son was killed in an accident on his way back home. He wouldn't have been on the road except for me. It's the damnedest thing. How does an old coot like me keep drawing breath when someone as good as him is taken in his prime?" Frank's eyes were moist like the day before, and he reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.

  "I'm sorry, Frank. He wouldn't want you to blame yourself, though. Was he the reason you left Seattle and moved to Billings?" I asked.

  "No. That was my own damn stupidity," he said. He blew his nose. "What did you study at the university?" he asked.

  "I went to law school there. My father wanted me to go to Harvard, but my boyfriend was going to UM. He partied a lot and flunked out. I stayed and got my degree."

  "Well, I like you anyway," he laughed.

  "You don't like people from Missoula?"

  "Don't like lawyers. But I'll make an exception this once." He smiled.

  I remembered Frank mentioned his daughter used to order an egg salad sandwich when Gloria was helping him with the menu the day before. I wanted to ask him about her, but he said he didn't have a family, so I was afraid I might open an old wound and cause him to cry again.

  "So how did you find Sunset? It's pretty far off the beaten path." I decided to redirect the conversation.

  "My son's the one who found this place on that web gadget," he said.

  "Oh. You mean online…on the internet?"

  "That's it. I guess it's this generation's answer to the party line." He laughed.

  "Oh, you mean the shared telephone system people used in the early days? It's not quite the same. You don't have to ask someone to hang up so you can use the internet. I think the day's coming when people won't have a landline anymore. Do you have one?"

  "Yes I do. It's all I need," he said.

  I suggested that Frank and I trade phone numbers so he could call me if he needed anything. I wrote my cell number on a piece of notepaper for him and added him to my contacts. I tacked the paper with my number on it to a small corkboard that hung near his phone in the kitchen.

  I returned to the porch. "I'd be lost without my cell phone. I feel safer traveling alone with it, it takes photographs, and I can surf the web to find where things are in a new place like Sunset. In fact, I've been wondering if there's a grocery, gas station, and laundry here." I was digging for my phone so I could Google those services.

  "The laundry is up the street where you see the sign renting cabins. You can get gas at the repair shop next to Twyla's if you don't mind paying a pretty penny, and you can get groceries down the road about a mile past the junction. If you want cheaper gas and groceries, you can get them in Hoquarten."

  "Sarah gave me the impression there is only the one road in and out of here. It's pretty narrow and curvy. Where does the road to the right of the junction go?" I asked.

  "It goes to Hoquarten. There's no need to take the upper road unless you want to see the lighthouse or kill time. But I read in the paper they'll be closing the coast road for repairs soon. In that case, the upper road is all we've got. There's no shopping in Sunset, really. You'll need to go to Hoquarten for most things. It's not more than an hour round trip on the coast road. I drove it myself until recently. Dennis has been good about asking if I need something when he's going there. He just left. I told him there's a nice-looking young lady from Philly in town. Dennis lived there most of his life. He's anxious to meet you."

  "I didn't ask your last name, Frank."

  "It's Case. Easy for a lawyer to remember," he said. He was laughing.

  Frank invited me to have lunch with him, but I explained that I'd eaten a scone at Twyla's and wasn't hungry. I promised to come by the next day and tell him about my first night as a waitress.

  I crossed the street and sat on a bench near the stairs to the beach. My call to Sarah went right to her voicemail, so I assumed she turned off her phone while she was having lunch. I was anxious to ask her about Twyla's mistaken idea that she'd returned to Pennsylvania, but I did not want to get into that in a message. I mentioned I'd start my waitress job that night and was looking forward to it. I ended by asking her to stop by Twyla's or to leave a message so I could retrieve it on my break.

  As I was approaching the beach house, a middle-aged redhead wearing a multicolored moo moo and flip flops struggled to get out of her car while ordering me to “wait just a minute.” I assumed she was a tourist who wanted directions. I stopped at the bottom of the porch and turned to face her.

  "I'm new here myself, so I probably can't help you," I said.

  "Are you Rachel Douglas?" she asked.

  "Yes. Do I know you?" I asked. She was carrying a clipboard, so this time I assumed she was either circulating a petition or working for some government agency.

  "I'm Dinah Devore. Have you seen Sarah? She still owes me for last month," she said. She was almost breathless from the exertion required to haul her extra weight out of the car and up the slight incline to the beach house.

  "Pleased to meet you. I haven't seen Sarah yet. So far, she's left me two messages that she'd be working late and didn't want to drive home in the dark. I've been hired as a waitress at Twyla's. I can assume Sarah's lease any time and start paying rent. Do you mind taking a check on an Arizona bank? I lived there last year while I finished a creative writing program," I said.

  "I have the lease right here. I'll have to ask you for two months in advance. I let Sarah pay a month at a time, but she's overdue. She didn't give me any idea when she planned on paying before she dropped out of sigh
t. I need to check the inside for damages, too," Dinah said.

  I was fishing for the key under the brick. "Please come in."

  "I wouldn't hide a key outside, now that we know the type of riff-raff this parking lot attracts," Dinah said.

  "I only left the key under the brick because that's where Sarah told me to look for it. I don't know if she has another key to let herself in if I'm not here." I replaced the key and closed the door. I was about to ask Dinah about her comment when she interrupted me and pointed to the mural on the kitchen wall.

  "Did you do that?" Dinah asked. She was livid.

  "No. It was here when I arrived. I thought the owner must have approved of it, so I planned to buy something to put in front of it. It makes me uncomfortable."

  "It wasn't here when Sarah rented the house. I'm going to assume she's responsible. I'll take the money out of her security deposit to have it painted over."

  "It doesn't look like Sarah's style of painting to me," I said. I'd not seen what Sarah was doing currently, but it had not occurred to me that she might have painted the mural. I thought my opinion about the style was worth mentioning in defense of a friend.

  "I wonder what else has gone wrong!" Dinah stormed into the living room and then checked the bathroom before coming back to the kitchen to look for damage there. "Well, it looks like that graffiti is the only damage. Do you mind living with it for a while? I might need to use her security deposit to cover the back rent. I don't have time to paint over that myself at the moment."

  "Why don't you call Sarah and ask her to paint over it?" I said. I hoped Sarah might be in less trouble if Dinah could use the security deposit as rent instead of a repair.

  "The number I have isn't good anymore. Do you have a new one?" she asked.

  I pulled up my contacts and showed Dinah the number so she could copy it to her list. "Sarah didn't mention a security deposit. How much do you want?" I asked.

  "It's always been equal to a month's rent. So you can write your check for three months of rent and thank Sarah for the inconvenience. This is the lease. Do you need to show it to someone?"

  "No. It looks fine. Here's my check. I'd like to add you to my contacts so I can call you when I have a question," I said. We traded numbers, and I signed the lease. Dinah was less angry now that she had a new renter, three months of rent, and was satisfied that Sarah's security deposit would be hers free and clear. She was carefully walking down the steps when I remembered what it was I wanted to ask her.

  "Dinah, what did you mean about our knowing what kind of riff-raff is attracted to the parking lot?"

  "The murder, of course. I suppose Sarah didn't bother to tell you about that, either. I don't have time now. Keep the door and windows locked. Be careful who you make friends with here. Other than that, it's a nice little community. You'll be glad you came," Dinah said. She gave me a little wave of her hand as she opened her door and got into the car.

  The small whirlwind created by Dinah's presence, her casual mention of a murder, the warning about making friends, and a nagging feeling that I didn't know Sarah anymore combined to leave me as stunned as if Dinah had delivered a sucker punch and left me sprawled on the porch.

  Dinah had my signature on the lease and three months of rent, so I unpacked my car. I needed to focus on something positive. I reminded myself it would be easier to put my belongings away now that Sarah had removed anything of consequence to her new apartment in Hoquarten. Aside from a few nearly empty groceries in the kitchen, a roll of toilet paper and a clump of blonde hair on the floor in the bathroom, and some crumpled paper in the wastebasket in the bedroom, there was no sign of her. I set my laptop, printer, and accessories on the small desk centered on the west window. I'd have a view to the ocean while I wrote my novel. I set my few decorations on the floor next to the futon until I had time to decide where each of them would fit the best.

  I hung my clothes in the closet and then touched up my uniform with the iron. After eating a few crackers with cheese from a jar over the sink, I washed them down with a bottle of water and then added water to the list of groceries I'd started on the drop leaf table. I found towels in the linen closet in the bathroom, dug my shampoo and conditioner out of my travel bag, and enjoyed a shower. I began to relax as I listened to the surf that I could see from the bathroom window while I applied my makeup and put my hair up in a bun.

  I checked for a message from Sarah and was surprised to find one. She said she probably would stay in Hoquarten until the weekend, and I might as well start sleeping in the bed. She hoped I was not disappointed in the house and was anxious to hear about my first night on the job. I felt better knowing when I could expect her, and she sounded more like the Sarah I knew. She was concerned about my reaction to the house, and I knew we would have fun trading anecdotes about Twyla's. If I knew Sarah, she'd do a hilarious impression of Dinah, which would leave me in tears from laughing.

  Frank and Dennis were standing in front of the building with the sign advertising CABINS when I reached Main Street. Frank beckoned for me to join them. He introduced me to Dennis, saying I was the young lady who had rescued him when he fell. I told Dennis I remembered seeing him when I was on my way down the stairs that morning. He said he'd left Philadelphia about fifteen years earlier and moved to Arizona. I told him I'd left Philadelphia two years before and recently finished a creative writing program in Arizona. He joked that I must be following him around.

  "Are you any relation to Robert Douglas?" Dennis asked.

  "I'm his daughter. How did you know him?"

  "He was on the front page of the Inquirer fairly often. Is he still in criminal defense?"

  "No. He passed away about two years ago. He quit the firm about twelve years ago."

  "Oh, sure. I don't get any older, so I assume no one else does, either." He laughed.

  "It was nice meeting you, Mr. Wagner."

  "You can call me Dennis."

  "I need to get to Twyla's. It's my first night, and I have to learn the routine pretty fast."

  "Nice meeting you, Rachel. Let me know if you decide to leave Sunset, so I can leave first." Dennis laughed.

  I could tell by the look on Dennis' face that he did not have a very high opinion of my father. I hoped he would not turn Frank against my father, too. It'd been years since my father's reputation had sabotaged a new relationship. I was trying to be positive and upbeat so I'd make a good impression at Twyla's, but I could not ignore the negative vibe I felt with Dennis.

  It was quarter to four when I arrived at Twyla's. The bakery area and dining room were empty. I walked around the bakery counter and announced my presence as I entered the kitchen. Simone and Joel were busy with dinner preparations. I introduced myself, and Simone left her task to show me around the kitchen.

  She was about the same age but not as tall as Twyla. She wore her hair in a pixie cut, and it drew me into her large, dark eyes. She spoke with a slight French accent. When I commented that everything she said sounded more interesting, she told me her parents left France as toddlers with an American soldier after World War II, dated when they were in high school, and married. Everyone in their families had been killed in Vire, Normandy in June of 1944. Simone graduated from Le Cordon Bleu Culinary Arts. She always knew she would be a chef. She was fluent in French, which not only kept alive the culture of her deceased grandparents but was invaluable when she moved to France to live and learn in Paris.

  Simone introduced me to Joel who was the server I'd shadow for the first night. He wore black slacks and a white shirt with a black bow tie and was my height. I guessed he was a few years younger than I. He reminded me of Justin Timberlake right down to the short, curly hairstyle. He said we'd "have each other's back," doing whatever needed to be done if one of us was less busy than the other.

  Joel's tables were the four next to the windows with ocean views and the one next to the short wall to the right of the kitchen. Those tables routinely left the best tips because they had the be
st views, and the one next to the kitchen had the best server access as we went in and out. My tables would be the remaining five. I thought two of them actually had better views of the ocean but the view could be blocked by someone dining at the window tables. The window tables were the first to fill.

  We would bus the tables ourselves. He showed me the linen storage and demonstrated the quickest way to set up a table with a clean, disposable, dusty rose cloth, crystal goblet with a dusty rose napkin inside, and utensils. A vase with a fresh flower from Twyla's garden shared the center of the table with crystal salt and pepper grinders. He showed me the carpet sweeper and urged me to use it often as long as it would not distract from the guests' dining enjoyment. Then he made sure I had an apron, pad and holder, pen, and a name tag. He thought the best way for me to learn the ordering process was to watch a variety of situations as he and Simone worked through the evening. I was pinning my name tag on the front of my black bib apron when the pair of bells at the top of the blue door announced we had our first customers.