The Witness

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  Elodie hurried to Olivia and Ebby, a worried look on her face.

  “Felicity’s calling an ambulance,” Olivia said. Ebby was mumbling incoherently as they eased him onto one of the chairs on the front porch.

  “Can you go with him to the hospital, Olivia? I’ll see that the champagne flows so everyone will get good and snockered. Then I’ll slip away and meet you.”

  “Ambulance is on its way,” Felicity said.

  Tears welled in Elodie’s eyes. She grabbed Felicity’s arm, as if she were going to faint.

  “Catch her,” Brian said.

  “Elodie?” Felicity cried out, grabbing Elodie just as she was about to topple.

  “I’ll be fine,” Elodie said, leaning on Felicity. “Just give me a second.”

  They heard Mark’s voice over the PA system followed by laughter. Ebby started to quietly sob, his shoulders heaving, as Felicity supported Elodie, who looked like she was about to have a heart attack. Brian kept a hand on Ebby’s shoulder, his touch steady and sure. When Olivia caught his eye, he said, “It’ll be all right.” Olivia wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to Ebby.

  Elodie took a deep breath, then another. The color slowly returned to her cheeks. She pushed away from Felicity. “That’s enough nonsense. You two take Ebby to meet the ambulance. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  “Elodie, you should be checked out by the ambulance,” Felicity said. “You look a little weak, dear.”

  “No ambulance. I am about thirty minutes from completely losing my composure. I need to use that precious time to extricate myself from this party. I will see you at the hospital. If I need medical attention, I will get it then.” With that, she turned and walked back to the tent.

  No one said a word as they waited for the ambulance. The fifteen minutes it took to get there seemed like hours. By the time Ebby was loaded up, he had stopped crying. “I killed her. My God. I’m a murderer. I can’t hold it in anymore. I’m a murderer. I killed my mother.”

  “Only one of you can ride in the ambulance,” the paramedic said.

  “I want Olivia,” Ebby mumbled.

  “Should I wait for Elodie?” Felicity asked.

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Olivia said. “Can you drive her? She’s had quite a bit to drink.”

  “Yes,” Felicity said. “You’ll stay with him and make sure he’s okay?”

  “I will.”

  “Okay. See you soon, Ebs.” Felicity squeezed his arm and hurried off.

  “I’ll follow,” Brian said.

  “Thanks,” Olivia said. She climbed into the ambulance and reached for Ebby’s hand.

  “Olivia?” Ebby cried out.

  “I’m here,” Olivia said.

  As the paramedic took his vitals, he said to Olivia, “Is he on anything?”

  “No, I don’t think so, but I have no way of knowing for sure,” Olivia said.

  The paramedic looked at Olivia. “Given the murder confession, I’m obligated to call the police.”

  “I understand,” Olivia said.

  As they drove away from the house, sirens blaring, Olivia had a premonition that things were about to get bad for Ebby Engstrom. Very bad indeed.

  Chapter 9

  Olivia

  Sunday, January 4

  When the ambulance pulled up to the emergency entrance at Marin General Hospital, the police were waiting for them. Ebby clung to Olivia’s hand so hard, the paramedics and the nurses agreed it would be best if she were allowed to remain by his side until he was seen by the doctor. Olivia followed along, aware of the two uniformed officers traveling in their wake. Ebby continued to cling to Olivia’s hand as they wheeled him into a curtained bay in the ER. At one point, he sat up, looked at the two policemen and said, “I killed her. I murdered my mother. Are you going to take me to jail?” Then, turning to Olivia, he said, “I’m going to prison for the rest of my life,” before he collapsed in tears.

  He remained hysterical as the paramedics moved him from the gurney to the bed, tossing his head from side to side, his face damp with sweat. Every few minutes he would gasp and become frighteningly still, his panic-stricken eyes darting around the room. Outside the curtained-off area, one of the policemen peered through a gap in the curtain trying to get a look at Ebby.

  A nurse approached the policeman who was trying to look in. “Excuse me. You need to go wait over there. Don’t make me tell you again.” She stepped into the room and moved over to Ebby. Olivia waited while she took his pulse.

  “Are you his next of kin?” the nurse asked.

  “No, just a friend.”

  “Name?”

  “Olivia Sinclair.” The nurse’s eyes shot up in recognition when Olivia said her name.

  “Olivia needs to stay here,” Ebby said through dried lips. “Please. I’m giving you permission to speak with her about my condition. I killed my mother. My God. I killed my mother. I need Olivia. Lawyer. Olivia …”

  “Okay, Mr. Engstrom. Don’t worry. She’ll stay right here.” The nurse bent over Ebby and put a reassuring hand on his arm. “What did you take?”

  “I didn’t take anything,” he said.

  “Does he have a history of drug use?”

  “No,” Olivia said.

  The nurse noted the chart. Outside the cordoned-off area, Olivia saw a portly man with red hair and thick glasses in conversation with the paramedics and the police officers. Soon the curtain swooshed open and the red-headed doctor came in.

  “I’m Dr. Lister.” He stepped close to Ebby and spoke to him in a voice that was kind and unthreatening. “Ebby, can you hear me?”

  “Yes,” Ebby croaked.

  “I’m just going to examine you, okay? My stethoscope is going to feel cold on your chest.” Dr. Listen spoke softly as he listened to Ebby’s heart. “Do you mind if I flash a light in your eyes for a minute?”

  “No,” Ebby said.

  The nurse handed him the chart she had been scribbling in. Olivia watched as Dr. Lister read the nursing notes, jotted something down, and handed it back to the nurse. “Start him with that to keep him calm. And I think he’s rather dehydrated, so let’s get a drip going and monitor him closely.

  “Ebby?” Dr. Lister stood over Ebby’s bed. “This is what I’d like to do, if it’s okay. I’m going to give you a sedative to keep you calm. I think you’re dehydrated, so I’m going to start an IV. In a few hours, you’ll wake up and feel much better. At that time, we can talk about your mother, okay?”

  “Okay. Thank you,” Ebby said through cracked lips.

  Dr. Lister stepped away from the bed. “We’ve a private waiting room for family. Let’s go speak there.”

  “I’m not going to leave him with those policemen out there.”

  Dr. Lister peered at Olivia over his glasses, before he nodded at her. “Understood. Give me a minute.” Olivia waited while the doctor stepped outside the curtain and spoke to the police. “This patient is not able to see or speak to anyone tonight. I’m going to need you gentlemen to leave.”

  When they were gone, Olivia moved over to Ebby’s bed and said, “I’m going to speak with the doctor, okay?”

  Ebby mumbled something incoherent, but he let go of Olivia’s hand, opting instead to clutch the bedrail as though hanging on for his life.

  “This way,” Dr. Lister said as he led Olivia into a room furnished with two overstuffed comfortable-looking couches and a mismatched assortment of chairs arranged around a large coffee table.

  “Have a seat, Mrs. Sinclair,” Dr. Lister said. “What can you tell me about Mr. Engstrom? What’s brought this on? Does Mr. Engstrom suffer from paranoid delusions?”

  “Dr. Lister, I’m an attorney who Ebby hired to help him navigate a tricky legal situation with his family. I don’t mean to sound uncooperative, but I don’t feel comfortable telling you Ebby’s story. His aunt should be here any minute. I’d feel more comfortable if she were the one to speak to you.”

  Olivia was interrupted by two sha
rp raps on the door. It opened and the nurse stuck her head in. “Mr. Engstrom’s family is here.”

  “Thank God,” Olivia said.

  Elodie pushed past the nurse, Felicity and Brian tagging behind her. “I’m sorry it took us so long to get here. I was in the middle of my birthday party when Ebby – never mind that.” She held out her hand. “I’m Elodie Engstrom, Ebby’s aunt. I raised him after his mother died. Please, tell me he’s going to be okay?” Her voice cracked with emotion as tears welled in her eyes.

  Dr. Lister, who had stood when Elodie and Felicity came into the room, gestured to the chairs. “He’s going to be fine, Mrs. Engstrom. I’m Dr. Lister. Please, ladies, let’s all have a seat.” Once everyone was seated, Dr. Lister remained standing. Olivia noticed the surreptitious glance at his watch. “I can’t spend a lot of time right now, so let me tell you what I know. I believe Ebby is suffering from some sort of a breakdown. Additionally, he is dehydrated and exhausted. I’m hoping you can enlighten me as to his repeated claims that he murdered his mother.”

  Elodie took a deep breath. “I’ll give you the short version, Doctor. Thirty years ago, Ebby witnessed his mother’s murder. Ever since then, he’s suffered from dissociative amnesia. He was under the care of a psychiatrist and had been managing rather well until about four months ago. He quit therapy and weaned himself off his various medications.” Elodie took a handkerchief out of her purse and wiped her eyes. “Since that time, he’s been having vivid flashbacks of the night his mother died. He thinks he’s remembering it.”

  “He is remembering it,” Felicity interjected. “He’s determined to remember what he witnessed that night. He wants to find out what he saw. And – I’m sorry, Elodie, but this needs to be told – he thinks he’s the one who murdered his mom. But he didn’t do it. I was at the house that night. I know he didn’t do it. And I’ll tell the police that if they ask me.”

  Although Olivia was impressed by Felicity’s loyalty to Ebby, she was surprised at how certain she was of Ebby’s innocence. Then she remembered that the two were childhood friends and were probably as close as siblings.

  “Okay,” Dr. Lister said. “The police were here. We’re obligated to report these things. But I’ve sent them away and I’m going to keep Ebby overnight for observation. He really does need to resume therapy, even if he doesn’t take medication. If he’s remembering the events that caused the dissociative amnesia, he needs medical care during the process. I’m going to suggest that.”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Elodie said. “He’ll be glad of a familiar face when he wakes up.”

  “No, I’ll stay,” Felicity said. “You need to get back to the house, Elodie. I can stay here.”

  “Dr. Lister,” Olivia said. “I’m concerned that the police will try to speak to Ebby while he is in the hospital.”

  “That won’t happen, Mrs. Sinclair. Not under my watch.”

  A nurse peeked into the room. “Excuse me, Doctor, but they need you on the floor.”

  “Of course,” Dr. Lister said. “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Once Dr. Lister left them, Olivia turned to Elodie. “I don’t want Ebby speaking to the police. He could very well wake up tomorrow and not remember anything that happened today.”

  “But surely he should cooperate with the police?” Elodie said. “He hasn’t done anything wrong. Isn’t it best if he’s honest and forthright?”

  Brian, who had tucked himself into the corner of the room, spoke for the first time. “They don’t operate that way, I’m sorry to say. They’d trick him, try to get him to admit to something or get permission to go snooping in his house. Olivia’s right. We don’t want Ebby speaking to the police.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Elodie said.

  “Elodie, I don’t have time to mince words right now, so I’m going to be direct with you. The police won’t just ignore Ebby’s confession. They have to look into it. They’d be remiss if they didn’t.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I’ll stay with him,” Felicity said. “Let’s get permission for me to spend the night in his room. Don’t they have fold-out beds? If the police come, I’ll call Olivia.”

  Elodie’s voice softened as she patted Felicity’s arm. “You’re a good girl, Felicity.”

  “He’d do the same for me,” Felicity said.

  “I think it would be prudent for you to get him a good criminal lawyer. I’ll make some phone calls for you, if you’d like,” Olivia said. She was tired all of a sudden, emotionally drained. She wanted to go home, take a hot bath, and put on her pajamas.

  “No calls. You’ll be his lawyer.” Elodie spoke in that stubborn tone of hers that Olivia had come to know over the years.

  “It’s unethical to represent a friend. I can’t.”

  “Olivia Braithwaite Sinclair. You have to represent Ebby. You’re the only lawyer with a personal connection to him.”

  “Exactly! Given my history with your family, given our friendship, honestly, Elodie, it’s not a good idea. You need a neutral attorney, someone who doesn’t know you. My emotional connection to you and to Ebby could be a hindrance.”

  “I want you, Olivia. Please don’t make me beg.”

  Olivia sensed Brian watching her. When she met his gaze, he gave her a look so full of compassion and understanding that she capitulated to Elodie. Just knowing that Brian was in her corner gave her courage.

  “Okay,” Olivia said.

  “Great. Now that we’ve got that settled, let’s find the doctor and convince him to let me stay tonight.” Felicity took Elodie’s hand and led her out of the room.

  Once they were gone and Olivia and Brian were alone, Brian said, “I was about to ask if I could buy you a drink, but you look knackered, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

  Olivia wished Brian would take her home and crawl into bed with her. But as her mother used to say, “If wishes were horses …”

  He put his arm around her. The feel of him sent a jolt to her heart. “Come on, I’ll drive you home. We can get your car tomorrow.”

  As they walked out into the cold January night, Olivia said, “We should prepare for a search warrant, don’t you think?”

  “Probably. I doubt they’ll let it go,” Brian said. They got into the car, and once Brian had started the engine and cranked the heater, he turned to her. “I think Ebby’s having a type of PTSD reaction. Olivia, I know what you’re going to say to this, but you should be prepared to face the idea that Ebby might well have killed his mother. He’s a good guy – I get it. But he was thirteen at the time, and you have to admit, it sounds as though his life was hell.”

  “He didn’t kill anyone,” Olivia said. “I need you on board with this one.”

  “I’m on board, Liv. I’ll help you in any way I can. You know that.”

  “I know,” Olivia said. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, wishing that things were different between the two of them.

  Chapter 10

  Brian

  Sunday, January 4

  Stomach rumbling and desperate for two fingers of Scotch in one of his Waterford tumblers, Brian pulled into the parking space at his apartment complex. As he walked toward his front door, he thought of the frozen pizza he’d make for his dinner and had a moment of longing for his dead wife. He used to come home at ungodly hours when he was a homicide cop. Maureen would always be waiting for him, a smile on her face, a drink at the ready. “Miss you, babe,” he said out loud as he put his key in the lock.

  He let the wave of nostalgia wash over him, savoring the memories of Maureen and all the times he had walked in the door, as eager to see the woman he loved now as he had been the day he married her. The memory was short-lived. Brian was no longer at his old house. He was in a small apartment by himself. When he stepped inside, the smell of roasting chicken and garlic met him. His stomach rumbled in response.

  “Brian?” Leanne stepped into the hallway. She wore an apron decorated with martini glasses and had a smile on
her face. “I thought I’d surprise you. I hope that’s okay? I went to the farmer’s market today and bought a huge chicken and a bunch of vegetables. Please tell me I didn’t overstep? You’ve got that look on your face.”

  A week ago, Brian had let Leanne do laundry at his house when her washing machine had gone on the fritz. At that time, he’d given her a key and had forgotten to get it back. For a minute, Brian felt irritated at Leanne for presuming to commandeer his time, for coming into this apartment and acting like she lived there. Then he thought of the frozen pizza that awaited him. Why was he so hard on Leanne? She was just being nice. And she knew Brian’s position. His stomach rumbled.

  “I’ve had a long day, and I’m starved. Roast chicken sounds wonderful.”

  Leanne sighed. “Oh, thank goodness.”

  Brian followed Leanne to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine as she took a perfectly roasted, golden-brown chicken out of the oven and set it on the cutting board. As she strained the drippings from the pan to make gravy, Brian refilled her wine glass.

  She held her glass up in a salute. They took their time over dinner, languishing over the meal until they finished the bottle of wine. Although Leanne wanted to watch a movie, Brian was too tired. He thought about begging off and calling it an early night.

  “Brian, I want to talk to you about something.”

  Here we go. Brian hoped Leanne wasn’t going to revisit the relationship conversation.

  “It’s not about us, don’t worry.” She gave him a sheepish smile. “I was just wondering how well you know Olivia.”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “At first, I figured you had known her for years, but then you told me you had only met her last October. I know that she was accused of murdering her husband’s mistress. Now that I know you, I see the expertise you bring to your business relationship, all the clients and work that you have. At dinner the other night you let it slip that Olivia is struggling to find her way professionally, and I can’t help but wonder what she brings to the table.” Leanne stared at her wine glass, as if giving Brian room to think. “We haven’t known each other very long, but I consider you a friend. If our roles were reversed, I’d want you to tell me—”