Eyewitness (Thriller/Legal Thriller - #5 The Witness Series) (The Witness Series #5) (24 page)

“Where were you when the cops came?” Josie tapped his knee to get his attention.

“I wasn’t over there. When I left your place I just kept running. I woke up over on 22nd about ten in the morning. I started thinking it was a bad dream but then I see the yellow tape and I just kinda kept my distance. I mean, what was I going to tell them? That Billy had a knife with blood on it? That wouldn’t be cool.”

“Could you identify the man you saw?” Archer asked.

“It was dark. He was like a shadow.”

“And you’re sure there was only one guy?”

“That’s what I saw.” Trey shook his head again and then looked sadly at the two of them. “This sucks. I mean about the knife. Billy seemed so normal, you know?”

***

Josie went home alone and satisfied. Trey’s timetable from the beach to the house and back again didn’t leave Billy time for an assault or to kill two men. That information would be enough to keep Carl Newton at bay during the hearing in Healy’s court.

Archer went home too, but he wasn’t alone. Trey was going to be his houseguest, sleeping on the deck lounge until Archer could get him to Montoya. If Archer locked the connecting door he could get some sleep and the only way Trey could get away would be to scale down three stories to The Strand. Trey was down with the arrangement since they convinced him nobody would care about the bath salts, and no one would think he had a hand in the killings. The promise of a full breakfast at Burt’s sealed the deal.

Letting herself into the dark house, Josie didn’t think anymore about the two men while she made the rounds of her home. The kitchen was clean, and the coffee ready to be brewed when the sun came up. Max slept on his bed but he opened his eyes when Josie touched him. She got on her knees and put her cheek close to his snout. He kissed her with one lazy lick and was asleep again.

She picked up the mail Hannah had put on the entry table: bills, fliers, a catalogue from a cruise line. To the side of the table, a large box rested against the wall. Josie carried it to the dining room table. The packing tape came away. She opened the box, broke the gold seal, and pushed back the white tissue paper. She had no idea how long she looked at the neatly folded dress inside. In the end she refolded the tissue paper, closed the box, and set it back against the wall. The first time she touched her wedding dress, Josie didn’t want to have anything on her mind except Archer and her vows.

Finally, she looked in on Hannah. No matter how long they were together, this ritual felt surreal. There was a moment between putting her hand on the doorknob and the door opening when Josie wondered if she had dreamed Hannah. But when the sliver of light from the kitchen was wide enough to illuminate the room and the bed, Josie was as reassured. Her charge, this child, was there.

The girl slept deeply. Her arm was thrown over the pillow she hugged to her body, and her hair spread across the pillow under her head. Josie smiled at the fairytale tableau. Princess Hannah rested, but there was a pea under her mattress that kept her dreams from being sweet. There had been one since the moment she was born and this time that pea was Billy Zuni.

Josie took one last look around the room. The little red lacquer stool Hannah had brought with her from the Malibu house and the box where she kept the reminders of those fateful days were in their place. Thankfully, the days of cutting away her pain seemed to be behind her.

Josie went in and picked up the cell phone that had dropped beside the table. She put it back where Hannah could reach it and resisted the urge to touch the sleeping girl. On her way out, Josie glanced at the easel. For a second she was tempted to raise the sheet that covered the canvas Hannah guarded so zealously. Instead, she passed it by. Hannah would show it to Josie when she was ready. In her own room, Josie fell on the bed fully dressed and slept.

Everyone was safe: Billy and Rosa in the hospital, Hannah and her in the house and Archer in his.

For now, the world was right.

2006

Greg Oi glanced at the sleeping girl beside him and the little boy beside her. They looked like the children they were with their hands clasped together. They had never been in an airplane, never seen an airport, never had new clothes such as he bought them, and they were exhausted. He reached over and checked their seat belts. He pushed the button so the back of the airplane seats no longer reclined. The stewardess passed and smiled at him as if to say he was a good father. Just as well. No one in America would understand that the girl was his wife and the boy was now his son. But no one would ask. This was a strange country. People saw only what they wanted to see and were outraged only when it was the fashion to be.

He looked forward as the landing gear went down and the big plane started its descent into Los Angeles. What, he wondered, would these two make of their new home? He turned his head to look out the window and wondered what either of them would make of him when they saw him for what he really was. Then he smiled. They would make nothing of the way he lived his life because they had no choice. It was the bargain
Teuta made.

It was done.

2013

Morning found Mike Montoya and Wendy Sterling behind the gates in Rolling Hills and parked in Kat Oi’s driveway. Wendy eyed the house while Mike fielded a call from Archer. When he was done, he said:

“Josie Bates’ investigator is bringing in the guy who was with Billy.”

“Great,” she mumbled.

Mike slid his eyes her way. “Don’t you want to know what his story is?”

“Sure. What’s his story?” Wendy fidgeted with her seat belt, reached down to pick up her purse, lowered the visor, and looked in the mirror. Still she didn’t look at him. Mike reached over and flipped the visor back up. “It was fine you came last night. I needed to see that DVD.”

“It could have waited until this morning. I had no right to intrude.” Wendy spoke as if she was exhausted by the conversation before it took place, but it hadn’t and she wanted to get it over with. “I’m sorry about your wife. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable. I feel like a fool.”

She turned on him. Shame and anger sparked in her eyes.

“Am I the only one who didn’t know? Was everyone laughing at me and the way I was carrying on with you?”

“No. Nobody else knows. Or if they do, they don’t say anything about it. And nobody was laughing at you. I don’t think there’s a man in the place who wouldn’t be flattered by your attention.”

“You weren’t,” Wendy pointed out.

“Yes, I was. I just didn’t know how to respond.”

“You could have said that your wife was damn sick, and you didn’t have an ounce of energy for games, and that I was being slutty.”

“But you weren’t, so let’s forget it. We’ve got work to do.”

“Yeah. Okay. Forget it.” Wendy pushed her door but didn’t get out. There was something she needed to know. “How bad is it? I mean, how long?”

“God knows and maybe Kay. Neither of them are saying.” Mike put away the phone and checked his inside pocket for his paperwork. He opened his door but before he got out of the car, he said: “I bought her a necklace for our anniversary. She loved it. Thank you.”

Wendy swallowed the lump in her throat and got out, too. They met in the middle of the wide driveway. When they reached the porch, Mike pressed the bell. Kat Oi opened the door and scowled at the pair. Mike handed her the warrant.

“It’s duly executed, Ms. Oi.”

Beneath her expert make-up, her face was pinched and pale. The last few days had taken their toll, and Mike was not without sympathy.

“Who’s she?” Kat Oi glared at Wendy.

“I’m Wendy Sterling, Detective Montoya’s criminal analyst. I’m assigned to your husband’s case.”

“Did you bring her along ‘cause you’re going to have to frisk me or something?” Kat demanded.

“No, Mrs. Oi. We’re here to search the premises.”

“For what? What are you looking for?” She threw out her hip and planted one hand on it as if her posturing was enough to keep them out of her house.

“We can refer you to the warrant,” Wendy answered, but still Kat Oi didn’t take the paper. Wendy stepped forward. Kat dropped her hand and side-stepped to block her.

“You can both wait outside until I get my attorney over here. I’m not just going to let you tear up my house without someone here to make sure that I’m getting a square deal.” Kat put her hand on the door to close it. Mike put his hand on the other side and the door remained open.

“It would be wise to call your attorney, but we don’t have to wait for your lawyer, Mrs. Oi.”

Mike inclined his head toward Wendy. She took her cue and pushed politely past Kat.

“Detective Montoya tells me you have a young woman in your employee and another girl in the house who is not related to you.” Wendy slowly pirouetted, taking note of everything there was to see. Finally, she smiled at Kat. “If you could tell them we’re here, we’d appreciate it.”

“Nobody’s here but me.” Kat shot her a withering look.

“When do you expect them back?” Mike herded Kat away and shut the door.

“I don’t.” Kat crossed her arms and rubbed them through her pretty blouse. “They’re gone. They were my husband’s relatives.”

“He has a lot of relatives,” Mike noted.

“And if he were here he wouldn’t put up with this bull. I don’t have to tell you what goes on in my house. You can look all you want. You can do what you have to do, but you better hurry because when my lawyer gets here he’s going to kick some ass. I’m a widow. My husband was murdered. You can’t push me around, and you can’t say I had anything to do with his murder. I have an alibi.”

She stormed toward the living room, muttering, railing, and flailing her arms. Mike winced when she wobbled on her very high heels.

“Well, if she just isn’t a piece of work,” Wendy muttered, and then smiled. “Shall we?”

From the living room they could hear Kat Oi’s voice rising to a shriek. Mike was happy he had not become a lawyer as his mother wanted. Even five hundred dollars couldn’t buy an hour of his time to be at Kat Oi’s beck and call.

“Good hunting,” Mike said.

They went their separate ways. Wendy to a physical search and Mike to Kat Oi who was in the living room.

“Red Riding Hood better not mess anything up,” Kat said when he joined her.

“She’s very conscientious and careful,” Mike assured her.

“Maybe you should help her. It would make things go faster. That way you’d see there’s nothing for you to find out here.”

“I’m sure she’ll be good on her own. Do you mind if we sit down?”

Kat tossed the phone onto a table cut from a huge burl. She crossed her arms then uncrossed them. “I don’t have to answer your questions. I know that. Even if you read me my rights, I don’t have to answer anything. I could take the fifth.”

Mike unbuttoned his jacket and tugged at the knees on his pants as he sat down. He wished people wouldn’t watch so much television.

“Mrs. Oi. We aren’t here to accuse you of anything. We’re looking for any information or physical evidence that might point us to the person who killed your husband. You want that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she pouted.

“And you would rather I talk to you here and not at my office, is that correct?”

“Yes,” she grumbled.

“Good.”

“Fine. Okay. Don’t expect any coffee or anything,” she complained.

“I already had mine, thanks,” Mike said.

“Oh, now you’re a comedian.” She plopped herself on the zebra sofa.

“I want to ask you about Rosafa Zogaj.” Mike opened a small envelope he had been holding, took out three photographs and laid them on the table in front of Kat Oi. Her lashes lowered. She looked at them. She thought about them.

“We know she lived in this house. We know her brother was with her,” Mike stated.

Finally, Kat picked up the photograph of Rosa Zuni. A shadow passed over her face, and then she tossed the photo back on the table.

“I can’t believe she’s alive.”

“You know who she is, don’t you, Mrs. Oi?”

“I didn’t know her name until Fred showed me that marriage license. I couldn’t make heads or tails out of it. I don’t think he could either, but I knew it had to be her.” She sighed miserably as she crossed and uncrossed her legs. “I don’t know what made her so special.”

“How long have you been aware of her?”

“A year maybe a little less. I followed Greg to that club she works at. I saw them together, but it didn’t seem like she wanted him around. So I figured it was some kind of obsession thing for him. When you showed me the picture of her all cut up, the first thing I thought was that Greg did that to her. I thought maybe he went nuts or something because she didn’t like him. Then I realized it couldn’t have been him. He’s dead, too.”

“Did you ask him about her?”

“Once,” she admitted.

“And?”

“And he. . .” Kat hugged herself. She looked out the window. Mike looked at her. Her chin trembled. She confessed: “He cried.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Her head snapped back. “He cried, dammit. He went on and on about trying to do the right thing and honor and family. I think he loved that girl. I didn’t know what their relationship was. I don’t know anything about it, but it meant a lot to Greg.”

“Did you know about the boy?” Mike nudged Billy’s photograph across the table. She glanced at it.

“I never saw him before. Fred thinks Greg had a kid, so it might be him.” Kat took a deep breath and for the first time spoke the truth. “This hasn’t been the best week of my life. No matter what he did, or who that woman was, it doesn’t matter. I was happy with Greg. I always thought he was happy with me.”

“Mrs. Oi, is it possible your husband was involved in human trafficking?” Mike asked.

“Who said that? Who?” Kat shot straight up and pointed her finger at Mike. “You tell me because I’ll knock their block off. Greg helped people. Young people who needed jobs and couldn’t scratch out a living in Albania. And those girls were happy to be here. They could come here and work, or stay there and get married when they were twelve. You should see those places those girls came from. He was doing a good thing bringing them over here.”

“Did you ever see him hurt any of them?”

She slumped back again, “No. I never did.”

“Did he ever hurt you?”

“He slapped me once or twice,” Kat admitted. “But it wasn’t like he beat me.”

“The two women who were here a few days ago, were they part of his charitable efforts?”

“Yeah.” She mumbled. When Mike didn’t respond, when it was clear he expected more, Kat gave him what she had. She was tired and wanted someone to talk to. “Maybe I was dumb. I just accepted these girls coming and going. I didn’t ask. It wasn’t my business. They arrived. They lived here for a while, learned the language, and they went to work somewhere. All except Era. She lived here all the time.”

“How long was she here?” Mike asked.

“Two years about.”

“So she’s not a maid?” he confirmed.

“No. She helped out the new girls the foundation brought over. They can’t get a job if they don’t speak English or know the basics about America. That makes sense, right? Greg paid their expenses, but some of the guys in his association helped get them jobs. All the Albanians helped.”

“Do you know a man who goes by the name of Gjergy Isai?”

Kat shook her head. “No. Never heard of him, but it sounds like one of those guys from the old country.”

“The man who came to your door the night before your husband died. The one who came with Sam Lumina? Can you describe him again?”

She bit the corner of her bottom lip. “Old, big. Greg was big and so was this guy. They kind of looked alike. Like bears. This one had short grey hair. Buzz cut. I only saw him for a minute maybe.”

Mike nodded. The lady of the house had not been introduced to Gjergy Isai. At least now Mike had corroboration that Isai, Oi, and Lumina were connected as he and Wendy thought.

“Let’s talk about Rosa again.”

“Look, there’s no explaining Greg. I went back with him once to the place he came from. It was harsh. I mean really, really harsh. People wore the same clothes everyday because that’s all they had. There was no work. There were no rules, no regulations. Every house had a steel door. Do you want to know why?”

Mike’s silence gave her permission to go on.

“Because a bunch of years ago people from one village came in and shot up the village Greg came from. They killed a whole bunch of people over God knew what. Now every apartment has a steel door, every person – even the kids – have guns and weapons. We went to one of his relative’s houses and they had a whole room with nothing but guns. I saw little kids coming out of school playing with brass knuckles. What kind of people let kids have that kind of stuff? What kind of people shoot each other up for no reason?”

The eyes that looked at Mike Montoya were big and round and, for the first time, honest. She turned away and gazed out the French doors, seeming to look beyond her beautiful yard, the pool, and the tennis court. She was seeing a village overseas in a place that she couldn’t even imagine existed until Greg Oi took her there.