The Sunset Witness (13 page)

Some people forgive the person responsible for their
pain while others say they never can forgive.  The circumstances might be
identical, but one forgives and one does not.  If neither person is influenced
by any religious conviction, one will still regard the pain to him as the most
important consideration while the other will regard his pain as less important
than the overall good that results from his forgiveness.  One person cannot
remove himself from the decision while the other's decision is made without
placing any importance on himself.  One is selfish while the other is self-less.

I decided to change my theme.  Selfish love is
powerful, destroys everything in its path, and is, ultimately,
self-destructive.  So, I had my theme nailed down, and I knew who my characters
were.  Now, I had to figure out how to tell their story.  I'd begin at the
beginning.

Ryan Nichols' mother said she feared he might drown
while surfing.  Her comment sparked a memory from Nate's first summer in the
neighborhood in 1994.  Sarah, Nate, and I were at my house.  Sarah was flirting
with Nate on the far side of the pool.  They didn't see me close the patio door
and walk toward the pool.  I waved and called their names, but they were
oblivious to me.  Mother had tried to get me to take swimming lessons, but I
disliked being in the chlorine and never stuck with lessons long enough to be
confident in the water.

That day I chose to jump into the deep end and became
frantic when I could not touch the bottom.  Panicky, I yelled for their help while
trying to stay above the water.  Somehow, I managed to get to the side of the
pool and climbed out.  They still had no idea I'd nearly drowned.  I wrapped up
in a towel and went into the house.  I sat on the floor of my bathroom sobbing. 
Since then, drowning has become synonymous with betrayal.  Until that day at the
pool, Nate had belonged to me.

After nearly drowning, I have feared being in water
over my head.  As I watched the rushing water cover the beaches, streets,
vehicles, homes, and people in Indonesia and Japan, I relived the summer day at
the pool.  Instead of being at a safe distance and height like the camera, I
was at the level of the rushing water as it surged several stories above my
head and crashed over me.  That probably explains why I took the tsunami
warnings to heart when others laughed at them.

By the time I'd reconsidered my theme and written my
recollection of the day by the pool, it was time to shut down my laptop and
change for work.  Friday night at Twyla's would be busy.  I was looking forward
to my tips.  I planned to drive to Hoquarten on Saturday to shop.  Ever since
Michael and I'd stopped seeing each other, the mural in the kitchen was even
more upsetting.  I hoped to find something decorative so I could conceal the
passionate couple.

The Robinsons were at Twyla's Friday night, but they
were too late to get their usual table in front of the window.  Instead, they
sat at one of my tables.  Another couple who'd been college friends was staying
with them for the weekend.  First, they ordered appetizers with a bottle of
white wine and then ordered the filet mignon with a bottle of Twyla's most
expensive red wine.  For dessert, they each had a slice of the Decadent
Chocolate Cake with espresso.  My tip from their meal alone was fifty dollars.

My wages covered my rent at the beach house, my phone,
and my car insurance and operating costs.  The rent included utilities,
internet, and cable television.  My tips had to cover everything else.  I had
plenty of clothes and I'd always done my own manicures.  My hair had to be
trimmed about once every six weeks.  I never spent much on makeup.  I mostly
ate cereal and salads at home, and I was allowed one meal a day at Twyla's as
part of my pay.  She thought I could give better recommendations to the guests
if I'd partaken of the cuisine myself.  I'd always been healthy, so I never
needed health insurance.  I was a careful driver and didn't like sports, so I'd
never been in an accident.  My budget was not restrictive.

As I walked home from Twyla's Friday night, I tried
to picture what would work best to cover the mural in the kitchen.  Once I was
home, I realized a piece of furniture like a cabinet would be in my way.  There
was also the problem of paying to have it delivered from Hoquarten or
assembling it myself.  Furniture would probably be too expensive.  I considered
a wall tapestry, but the ones I'd seen were expensive and dark with classical
themes.  Once I was home, I booted my laptop and searched for ideas.  I found a
site with step by step instructions on how to mount a piece of fabric to artist
canvas and hang it on the wall.  That would probably be the least expensive way
to cover the mural.  I'd go to a sewing shop in Hoquarten for the fabric and,
hopefully, find a craft shop for the canvas and decoupage.

I remembered seeing a measuring tape in the kitchen
drawer.  I measured the mural from top to bottom and side to side so I'd know
how much fabric it would take to cover it.  I backed up from the wall to get a
sense of the type of pattern that would not be overwhelming up close.  My gaze
fell to the halter top on the girl in the mural.  I'd remembered the halter was
one piece.  Now, it appeared one side of the band at the bottom overlapped and
was attached to the other with a button.  I found my phone and the gallery
app.  The photo I'd taken the first time I saw the mural clearly showed the
halter to be in one piece.  There was no overlapping band or button.  Someone
had changed the mural.

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 sound of
the foghorn.