The Witness

by Terry Lynn Thomas

  “And I’m sorry to say this to you, Ebby, because your mother loved you, in her own way, but she was an odious woman. The brother who raped me ended up going to prison for bank robbery. I came to find out that he had a history of rape and violence toward women. I did my best to stay away from the family. I couldn’t stomach watching Cynthia in the home that had been my sanctuary. I bought my house at Stinson Beach and was tactfully polite in public. But the truth hung between us. Things like that never go away. After Elliot died, I thought she’d move on, marry someone else. I prayed for it, to tell you the truth. But she didn’t.

  “It took me years to regain a sense of normalcy after the rape. But I will never forget the smirk on Cynthia’s face when she told me her brother, the man who had raped me violently, was going to be living in this house. My God, I lost my mind. We fought, but she wouldn’t back down. When I told her that I would go to the police and tell them what she and her brother had done, she laughed in my face. Called me a liar. Told me I had it coming to me. The letter opener was right there. I picked it up and started stabbing her. And God help me, the act was cathartic. Once I started, I couldn’t stop.” Fiona pulled a handkerchief out of her dress pocket and wiped her eyes.

  “When I was finished there was so much blood – I was covered in it. I hurried out of the house. I’ll never forget the feel of the adrenaline as it pumped through my veins. My intention was to call the police and confess. But as I stood in the dark night, under the winter stars, I realized, as far as I could tell, no one had seen me, no one knew I was there. I knew Felicity and Elodie were upstairs with Allegra. I couldn’t bear to go back in the house, and figured I’d just wait outside until the police came. Then I would confess. I didn’t realize you were in your cubby, Ebby, I must have walked right past you. I watched through the window as you walked through the door into the office and found your mother’s body. I realized you’d seen the whole thing. You heard me argue with your mother, and saw me kill her. There was nothing I could have done. I couldn’t get to you fast enough from where I was standing. God, I’ve never felt so helpless. You ran to her and held her in your arms. The way you screamed …” Fiona wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I am truly sorry that I did that to you. You didn’t deserve it. I watched Elodie come down the stairs in her bathrobe. She swept you into her arms and carried you away, back upstairs. When I heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel drive, I ducked into the bushes. I was surprised to see Melinda come walking up the driveway. She was dressed head to toe in black, like a cat burglar. From my hiding place I watched through the window, fully expecting her to scream bloody murder when she saw Cynthia’s body. But she didn’t scream. She grabbed the bag of coins and slipped out of the house with no one the wiser. I have to give her credit for composure under pressure.

  Fiona started to sob. Ebby moved toward her, but she held up a hand. “Don’t. Please.

  “I was going to drive to the police station and turn myself in before you could tell them what you saw, but something made me drive home to the beach. I had my revenge, I reasoned that I deserved one night of freedom near the ocean before I went to jail for the rest of my life. The next morning, Elodie called and explained that Cynthia had been murdered, the sovereigns had been stolen, and that you had been found holding her body, and were now suffering from amnesia. No sooner did I hang up from speaking to Elodie, than I heard on the morning news that Bertie had driven his car off Mt. Tam on his way home from my house. It seemed as though the graces had given me an alibi. I decided not to confess, until such time as your memory came back. I spent the morning burning my clothes and cleaning the blood out of my car before I came back to the house to support Elodie. When the police questioned me about my whereabouts when Cynthia was killed, I told them I was in bed with Bertie, which couldn’t be verified, of course. Bertie was dead. But I knew my freedom was a temporary gift. When you remembered what happened, I was going to confess.”

  Ebby tried to wrap his mind around Fiona’s story. “Why did you hire an investigator, Fiona? Weren’t you worried you’d get caught?”

  “That’s exactly why I did. I wanted to see if I’d left a trace. I couldn’t believe the police didn’t figure out it was me. Apparently, I’d committed a perfect murder. Truth be told, my life was over after I was raped. And I’m ready to end it now.” Fiona nodded. “You can turn off the recording, Felicity, and hit send.”

  Felicity fiddled with her phone. “Okay. I sent it.”

  “But why—”

  Fiona smiled. “I know what you’re trying to do, Ebby. I’m finished talking. I’d like you to leave.”

  “Go ahead, Felicity,” Ebby said.

  Felicity didn’t have to be asked twice. She hurried out of the room, just before the policewoman stepped in, her gun drawn.

  “Put the gun down,” she said.

  Fiona laughed. “Do you realize how ridiculous you sound? I’m ready to die.”

  When she held the gun up to her temple, Ebby cried out, “No!” and charged her.

  The gun went off. Ebby and Fiona landed in a heap on the floor.

  Ears ringing from the gunshot, Ebby watched as chaos broke out around him. A squad of uniformed and plainclothes policemen charged into the room. Time seemed to move in circles, and before long, bright lights flicked through the living room window as an ambulance pulled up to the front door.

  “Fiona,” Ebby cried out. She lay under him, not moving. Careful not to crush her, he gingerly lifted himself off her body, eventually coming to a squat next to her. Taking her hand, he said, “Fiona, I’m so sorry. Please don’t die.”

  His aunt was lying on her back now and was so still, Ebby thought she was dead. He stood and made room for the paramedic, who started to poke and prod at Fiona, all the while talking to her. “Miss Engstrom? Can you hear me?” When his hands moved down to her lower back, Fiona yelped.

  The paramedic said, “I think her hip’s broken.”

  A uniformed policeman asked Ebby to wait outside. He stepped out into the cold January day and saw Felicity sitting in a police car, a blanket around her shoulders, looking at him with worry and concern. As he made his way toward her, Olivia, Brian, and Elodie came rushing up the driveway to him.

  Ebby took Elodie’s hand and pulled her away from Brian and Olivia. “Felicity explained why you lied to me.”

  “I hope you’ll understand that I was forced to make a decision. Leave you holding your mother, covered in her blood, and have you go through hell to explain what you saw to the police and maybe to a judge in a courtroom. Even if you didn’t remember, they would have interviewed you, cross-examined you. You would have carried that stigma with you for the rest of your life. I couldn’t let that happen to you, Ebby. You were already a young man without parents, an orphan. Allegra and I made a choice that night to lie in order to protect you. I don’t regret it. Not one bit. And I would do it again in a New York minute. You may not be able to forgive me. I’ll respect that. But I stand by my actions that night.”

  “Did you know Fiona killed my mother?”

  “No. I had no idea. No idea at all. I can’t hardly believe it.”

  As Elodie stood before him, he saw the worry and concern – for him – in her eyes. He’d been a witness to a horrible tragedy. For the first time, he was able to grasp the blind love that motivated his aunt. The time had come to let it all go. The time had come for Ebby to be free. With a breath and a sigh, he let his anger go and pulled Elodie into his arms. “I realize why you made the choices you made, and I thank you for them.” As he uttered those words out loud, he felt his burden lift, felt the weight of what he had carried leave his body. Elodie leaned against Ebby and wept.

  He held her and tried to soothe her, catching Felicity’s gaze. She nodded at him, as if she sensed the chains of the past slipping away. Ebby knew that all was now well with the world.

  Chapter 37

  Brian

  Saturday, January 17

&n
bsp; Brian chose The Left Bank for his fated date with Leanne, reasoning the outdoor seating would provide the necessary privacy for a murder confession. He had a role to play and didn’t need an audience. To assert control, he had arrived early and ordered a dry martini, extra olives. Resisting the urge to down the drink in one go and order another, Brian watched the other diners through the window as he forced himself to sip, intrigued by the scenarios he imagined playing out at the different tables. Six well-dressed professional-looking women had commandeered the corner booth and were celebrating something with a bottle of Dom Perignon. At the small table next to them, two men were in earnest conversation while they ate steamed clams, Brian’s favorite dish, dunking their crusty bread into the savory saffron-infused broth. At another table, a man and a woman ate dessert, not speaking to each other. At first glance they seemed like an ordinary couple who had fallen into the quiet routine that comes with familiarity. Brian smiled when he saw the woman’s foot slide up the man’s pant leg under the table.

  Two men sat at the long wooden bar. Solitary diners. Widowers? Lonely? One of them read the paper, while the other simply stared into his drink, cognac from the looks of it. Brian’s heart galloped with anxiety when Leanne walked into the room. He took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm, to stay in character. He watched as both men at the bar turned, surveying her in that way men do. Brian had to admit that Leanne – Andrea, he reminded himself – was a beautiful woman. She took pride in her appearance and dressed to impress. Initially Brian had fallen for Leanne’s flashy good looks. Now he found them garish. What had he ever seen in her?

  He stood as she approached the table. When Leanne rose onto her tiptoes for a kiss, it took everything he had to respond with feigned passion.

  “I’m glad to see you,” Leanne said.

  Brian took Leanne’s hand and met her eyes. “We need to talk.”

  She furrowed her brow, and for the briefest second Brian wondered if the Minnesota police were wrong, if this whole situation wasn’t some horrible mistake.

  “I know who you are,” he said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Leanne – or should I say Andrea?”

  She froze at the mention of her real name, at the hint that Brian could know her real story. She looked around, a calculating look on her face. “Is this some sort of a set-up?”

  “Of course not. But I do know about you. About your husband.” The waiter came over. Brian ordered another martini.

  “Same for me,” Leanne said. Once the waiter left, Leanne said, “You need to let me explain. It’s not what it seems. I was scared for my life.”

  To his surprise, Brian found himself wanting to believe this woman. Not because he cared about her, but because he was looking for exoneration, some indication that he hadn’t fallen victim. “Why did you run? If you didn’t have anything to hide, you could have cooperated, helped them clear things up.”

  “I tried to cooperate. My husband worked for the DA’s office. The police weren’t going to take my side. Surely you know how the old boys’ network operates.”

  Brian realized that Leanne’s husband had a few different jobs, a few different backstories. They were all a lie, and Brian hadn’t picked up on the inconsistencies. He let that irritation at himself go. Her confession would go a long way towards his redemption. She stopped talking when the waiter brought their drinks and left them with their menus.

  “He used to beat me on a regular basis. Once he threw me down our basement stairs and locked me down there for two days. He broke my jaw and dislocated my shoulder. I went to the police after that, but they didn’t do anything.”

  “Did you kill him, Leanne? Just tell me the truth. I’m not going to judge you.” While Brian spoke, he thought of Maureen as she lay dying of cancer. He knew his love of Maureen and his grief for her would show in his eyes. He told himself the emotional toll for this exploitation of his beloved wife’s memory would be worth it.

  She fiddled with the two skewered olives in her martini, not meeting Brian’s eyes. “I did. And I would do it again. That man abused me. It was only a matter of time before he killed me.” Leanne reached for Brian’s hand over the top of the table. “I swear to God, I killed him in self-defense.”

  Andrea Seaton was a cold-blooded murderer, a sociopath. He knew she was lying about her husband. Detective Summerfield had let him read the entire investigation file, along with the police reports. A slow, planned poisoning was not the same as killing someone in self-defense. And there was no record of abuse, no broken jaw, no dislocated shoulder.

  “You believe me, don’t you?” Leanne asked.

  “Of course. I can’t believe you have to ask me that,” Brian said. “I was a cop for a long time. I’ve seen families torn apart by abuse.”

  He saw Detectives Summerfield and Daniels across the street. Thank God this charade is nearly over.

  “You’re a compassionate man, Brian. Thank you for listening.” Leanne said. “Will you come away with me? We could start over. I’ve got money. We could go to Mexico or Canada. You love me, don’t you?”

  “I’m not …” Brian said.

  “What?”

  Detective Summerfield approached their table. He stood behind Leanne, a pair of handcuffs in his hand.

  “I’m not a compassionate man. Your husband never abused you. You dosed him with antifreeze and caused him a slow and painful death. You’re a monster, Andrea or Leanne – whatever your name is. You belong in prison so you can’t hurt anyone else. And guess what, sweetheart? I’m going to testify to make sure you go away for a very long time.”

  “Mrs. Seaton?”

  Leanne turned around, startled.

  “Did you get what you need?” Brian stood and buttoned his coat.

  “We did. Thanks, Mr. Vickery,” Detective Daniels said.

  A white van was parked in the lot across the street from the restaurant. Brian saw Olivia get out of the back. Resisting the urge to run to her, he wheeled around to face Leanne. “You picked the wrong mark. Once I discovered you stole my wife’s identity, I volunteered my cooperation.”

  “Liar. I had you convinced, and you know it,” Leanne said, venom in her voice. “We would have been married in six months.”

  “Don’t think so,” Brian said. “Olivia was onto you from the beginning.”

  When Detective Daniels pulled Leanne to her feet, she started to scream. Brian turned his back on her and walked out of the restaurant, toward Olivia, who waited for him on the sidewalk out front.

  “You were great. Rathman said he’d give us a ride to my house—” She furrowed her brow and stared at him. “Are you all right?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “Let’s walk back to your house instead. I need to clear my head.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll just go tell them, okay?”

  Brian nodded. He watched Olivia speak to Detective Summerfield, just as Leanne was led from the restaurant. What would have happened if Olivia hadn’t been suspicious? If she hadn’t pushed him to see Leanne from a different perspective? As they headed up the hill toward Olivia’s house, Brian realized his relationship with Leanne could have turned out so much worse.

  Chapter 38

  Olivia

  Saturday, January 17

  The walk to Olivia’s house under the waning crescent moon went a long way toward relieving Brian’s anger at Leanne. Once they got home, they ordered Chinese food and opened a bottle of wine. As they ate with chopsticks out of the cartons, they talked about future travel plans and the anticipation of Denny having her child.

  At least it was over. Leanne was out of their lives for good. All that was left was for Brian to testify at Leanne’s trial. Olivia would go with him to Minnesota. After the trial, they would travel north and make a vacation of it.

  She put on the kettle for tea, and tossed the takeout containers into the garbage, which she tied shut and then took to the bins outside. Shivering in the cold, Olivia h
eard footsteps crunching on the gravel behind her. She turned and for a minute didn’t recognize the woman who stood under the halo of the streetlamp.

  “I want you to give them a message for me.”

  “Melinda?” She’d cut her hair short and bleached it blond. She wore jeans and industrial-looking boots with thick rubber soles. Wire-rimmed glasses completed the look. Olivia wouldn’t have recognized her if she saw her on the street.

  “We thought you’d be long gone,” Olivia said.

  “Not yet. I’m getting ready to leave. Right now, I’m hiding in plain sight.”

  “The police will find you, Melinda.”

  “I haven’t done anything wrong. I’m not hiding from the police,” Melinda said. ‘I’m hiding from Mark. He’ll be arrested soon. He’s up to his ears in felonies. Once he’s in custody, I’ll slip away.”

  “You stole the Engstroms’ collection of gold coins,” Olivia said.

  “I’m considering it my divorce settlement. This family owes me for putting up with Mark all these years.”

  “Did you know that Fiona killed Cynthia?”

  “I had a suspicion. They had an interesting relationship. I overheard arguments between them over the years. Fiona had zero respect for Cynthia. Cynthia was horrible to her. I overheard them fighting once. Fiona was furious, yelling at Cynthia. Cynthia was taunting Fiona, saying her brother, Gary, was going to move into the house. Fiona lost it. I don’t know what happened between those two, but Cynthia was evil, and as far as I’m concerned, she got what she deserved. She tortured me from the minute I started dating Mark. I’m not going to give you a recitation of my grievances, as I don’t have time. But Cynthia insulted my hard-working parents, called them white trash, and did her best to keep Mark and me apart.