Witness (2 page)

The breeze rippled her hair and she shivered. If she went back to their hometown to visit, would Bethany and Keilah believe her? Or would they think she had an overactive imagination? Maybe it would be better not to tell them about what she’d seen without some proof. She’d already mentioned to them the stress she was under at work, with the emergency room being so short-staffed. She couldn’t bear it if they thought her nerves had cracked.

She stroked Mason’s head and smiled down at him. “At least I’ve got you, boy.” A car rolled slowly past. Petra shivered. They needed to get out of the open. She urged the dog quickly up the walk. The car turned at the corner and was soon out of sight, but Petra still felt a sense of growing unease.

She’d never been the type to jump at shadows, and she didn’t like this new, fretful feeling one bit. As she went into the house and locked the front door, it hit her that her solitude had become sinister.

“C
ome on, Linda, you can’t leave.” Joe Tarleton ran a hand through his hair as he scowled at his secretary. “I know you’re having a bad day, but we can work this out.”

Linda sighed and shook her head. “Joe, every day in this office is a bad day. I can’t take it anymore.” She plunked the contents of her desk drawer into a cardboard carton. Pens, sticky notes, envelopes, paperclips. Joe took them out as fast as she put them in, heaping them on the desktop.

“Quit that!” She slapped at his hand.

“I’m serious, Linda. I need you. What’s it gonna take to make you stay?”

She barked a laugh and opened the next drawer. “I have two words for you.”

Joe blinked at her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Health insurance.”

Joe swallowed hard. “I can’t give you insurance.”

“Exactly.” She picked up the box. “I’m starting tomorrow at the medical office.”

“Aw, come on. Can’t you change your mind?”

She slid her purse strap over her shoulder and headed out the door. Joe ran after her.

“That doctor’s office can hire anyone. But you know the detective business. You’re good with the clients.”

“Health insurance, Joe.”

She shifted the box and managed to open her car door.

“Please. Let’s go get supper and talk it over. I’m buying.”

She shook her head and shoved the box into the car, across the front seat. “You can’t afford it. Face it. You can barely pay the rent. You should close this office and go to work for one of those big insurance companies you contract for.”

“No way.”

“That’s your choice,” she admitted, “but I’ve had enough.”

The door to the storefront next to Joe’s office opened, and two men in coveralls came out, each carrying two vinyl-covered stools.

“Hey,” Joe said, “they’re taking the fixtures out of the diner. Maybe somebody’s remodeling it.”

“Oh, they’re remodeling, all right,” Linda said, “but it won’t be a diner anymore. Apparently, it wasn’t profitable. Sound familiar?”

“What’s going in there, if not a new diner?”

She smiled as she got into the car. “A gift shop.”

Joe swiveled his head to stare once more at the front of the shop that occupied the other half of his office building. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No, I met the new tenants yesterday. They’re very nice ladies.”

“Ladies? You said
ladies?
”

“That’s right. Goodbye, Joe.”

A bleak sense of despair settled over his spirit. The workmen came out of the building again, this time lugging what Joe recognized as one of the booth seats. He’d eaten a lot of tasty cheeseburgers sitting in the back booth. Now he was going to have to walk two blocks to get a sandwich at the gourmet coffee shop or drive to one of the fast-food places clustered out near the interstate.

“Great. Just great.” He stomped back into his office. Linda was right. He was going broke. This town barely had enough desperate people to provide clients for the Tarleton Detective Agency. But he’d toughed it out for fifteen years. He’d get another secretary.

It would be hard to find someone at the wages he could afford to pay. Linda was right about that, too. He needed a big case, or at this point, any case if it involved a wealthy client. Maybe he should run an ad, but that cost money, and ninety-five percent of his clients came to him through word of mouth. Either a past customer or a friend at the police department recommended him.

He sighed and looked at his watch. Almost five. He should drop by the police station. He might run into some cops getting off their shift and pick up some new leads from them.

As he headed for the door, his sleeve caught on a screw that had partly worked its way out of the handle on his top desk drawer. The button from his cuff rolled into the shadows under his secretary’s desk. His
former
secretary’s desk.

Joe looked at his flapping cuff for a moment and shook his head. Par for the course on this gloomy Thursday. He’d had a flat tire this morning, then Linda up and quit on him, the diner was being replaced by a froufrou gift shop, and now this.
All right, Lord. This is one of the lousiest days I’ve had in a long time. Are You trying to tell me something?
He didn’t feel like waiting for an answer, so he went out, locking the door.

As he turned down the sidewalk, he almost bowled over two women standing outside the ex-diner. Both were looking up at the front of the building and didn’t notice him until he pulled up short.

“Excuse me,” he muttered.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” cried the nearest woman, jumping aside. “I didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry,” her companion echoed with a bright smile.

Joe nodded. “No problem.” They looked alike, and details like that always caught Joe’s attention. Not twins, but they had the same straight noses and creamy skin, though one was nearing forty, he guessed, and the other was several years younger. Their rich brunette hair waved softly, though the older woman’s had the slightest sprinkle of gray. Soft brown eyes surveyed him with frank curiosity, and he realized they must be wondering why he was staring.

“I’m sorry.” He put on his most affable tone. “I’m guessing you’re sisters.”

The younger one smiled. “Yes, we are. I’m Keilah Wilson, and this is my big sis, Bethany Offenkuffler.”

Keilah extended her hand, and Joe took it. “Hi. Joe Tarleton.”

“Tarleton?” Keilah asked, her eyes widening.

“As in Tarleton Detective Agency?” asked Bethany.

“Well, yes.” He’d have been surprised they’d heard of it if they weren’t standing five yards from the door with his name on it.

“We’re your new neighbors.” Keilah grinned and gestured toward the future gift shop.

“Ah.” It figured. If Joe hadn’t been so preoccupied, he’d have guessed that. “So, when’s the grand opening?”

“Memorial Day, we hope,” Keilah said. “There’s a lot of work to be done between now and then.”

“We plan to carry a wonderful selection of gifts.” Bethany smiled bigger than ever.

“So you can pop in any time you need to buy one,” Keilah said.

“Terrific. And you ladies pop in any time you need a case solved.”

They laughed and waved as Joe made his escape along the sidewalk, their cheery goodbyes echoing in his ears. Just what he needed. A couple of Pollyannas next door trying to sell him crystal unicorns and Maine shot glasses.

Petra woke to Mason’s frantic barking. She blinked and rolled over to see the red glow of her bedside clock: 1:30 a.m. She sat up, her heart racing. What on earth had excited the dog? Mason usually slept peacefully on his cushion in the utility room.

She reached for the lamp, then stayed her hand. Instead, she climbed out of bed and tiptoed into the hallway barefooted, relying on the faint moonlight that shone through the windows to illuminate her path. She followed Mason’s barking into the living room to find him batting occasionally at the drape that covered the patio door.

A shiver rocked her. The hair on her arms stood on end. “Hush,” she whispered. He stopped barking and turned to face her, ears aquiver. Then he looked back to the door and whined. She stole to the side of the drapery and pushed it back with one finger, peering cautiously out onto the empty deck. She stood still, listening. Her throbbing pulse and shallow breath dulled any sounds from outside.

After half a minute, Mason whined again. She reached to pat him, staring into the night at the hulk that was Rex Harwood’s house.

“It’s nothing, Mason.” But she knew it was something. He never barked at nothing. She let the drape resume its place. Maybe a raccoon had visited their deck. “Go lie down,” she told him.

She went back to her bedroom but found she couldn’t dismiss her fears. Every time her eyelids drooped, she stiffened and listened again…for what? She couldn’t stop the images from coming to mind. The woman struggling as the man tightened the scarf around her neck. Harwood had told the police his wife wasn’t due home until tomorrow. Was he sleeping tonight? Or was he coming to get her, too?

The clock now flashed four o’clock. She knew she would go to work with a headache. Not good. The emergency room nurses at Maine Medical Center needed to stay alert and sharp-witted on duty.

Petra breathed another semblance of a prayer and slowly forced her muscles to relax, concentrating hard from her neck and shoulders down the length of her body to her toes before finally drifting back into a fretful sleep.

Joe stayed out of the office as long as he could on Friday. The noise from next door was unbearable. Power drills, hammers, circular saws. Then there were the smells. Since the diner closed, the tempting smell of greasy onion rings ceased to waft beneath his door. Now it was paint fumes and cleaning solutions.

Last night, he broke down and bought an answering machine. He closed out a case he was working on for the insurance company and collected a check. It wasn’t much, but enough to keep his rent check from bouncing.

One of the dispatchers at the police department had come through for him, and he had a new case. That was a relief, since his last missing persons file had come to a dead end. The client decided it wasn’t worth continuing to pay him to try to run down her deadbeat ex-husband.

He missed Linda. The answering machine was a poor substitute. Its flashing red light teased him with the promise of two messages. He cast about for something to scribble the phone numbers on and ended up writing them on the back of his electric bill.

He called and made an appointment to meet the first potential client on Monday. Wasn’t there an appointment book somewhere? He strode to Linda’s former desk and opened and closed one drawer after another. Back at his own desk, he discovered the book in his top drawer.

He riffled through it, scrawled the woman’s name on Monday’s page and told her how to find the office. Now where was the second number? Oh, yeah, on the back of the electric bill.

Where was the electric bill?

He gave up and went to the coffeemaker. Linda always made the coffee. He picked up the can and shook it. Empty.

Too bad the diner closed,
he thought again as he went outside. The soon-to-be gift shop windows were sparkling clean now, highlighting the sad absence of a coffee machine or greasy breakfast sandwiches. Inside, he saw the two women opening cartons.

Bethany and…what was the other name? Not that it mattered. He envied them right now. They had that innocent anticipation, confident that their new shop would be a raging success. He got into his car and pointed it toward Wal-Mart. They had a coffee shop there. He could get a decent cup of hot brew and some notepads before putting in some work on his case.

Half an hour later he drove back into his parking space, feeling better after two cups of coffee. He had just reached his desk when the door opened.

“Mr. Tarleton?”

It was one of the sisters from the shop next door. The younger one.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, rising. “Can I help you?”

She smiled as she advanced toward his desk. “Remember me? I’m Keilah. From the gift shop.”

“I remember.” Joe determined to file the name away somewhere in his brain. He watched her, trying to figure out why she was standing in his office. Just as she set a small wicker basket on the edge of the desk, a delicious smell hit his nostrils.

“I brought you some cookies. Bethany and I were saying last night how distracting it’s probably been for you with all the noise from the remodeling, and we decided to bring you an apology gift.”

“An apology gift?”

“Sure. We do gifts for all occasions.”

He laughed. “Right. Thanks, but that wasn’t necessary.” The sparkle went out of her eyes, and he added quickly, “But very nice. Thank you.”

Her smile returned, a bit strained now. “You’re welcome. Chocolate chip.”

“My favorite.” He reached over and lifted the edge of the checked napkin. The fragrance increased, and he suddenly craved a bite. “They smell delicious. Would you join me?”

“Oh, no, thank you, they’re all for you. But I did want to tell you we took a message for you.”

“A message?”

“While you were out, a man came by. Bethany had stepped outside to get something from the car, and he said your office was closed and asked if she knew when you’d be back.” She shrugged. “Bethany took his business card for you. He’d like you to call.”

She held out the card, and Joe tried to suppress his eagerness as he recognized the name. Daniel Riker was a member of the city council. Things were looking up.

“Thank you, Miss Wilson.” He pocketed the card.

“Keilah. We’re neighbors now.”

“Right.”

“Oh, and there’s one more thing.”

Joe felt himself warming to his new neighbors. “Anything I can help with?”

“As a matter of fact, I was going to ask a small favor. Our new sign was just delivered, and there’s only my sister and me and one man who’s working on the shelving…”