The Sunset Witness Read Free

wings, and I have a long way to go."  I
laughed.  "Is there anything else you need before I leave?"
    "Not unless you let me pay you," he said.
    "I only have one friend here, and she's
leaving.  I'd like to consider you my friend, but it won't work if you insist
on paying me."
    I pretended not to notice the tears in his eyes and
went to the kitchen to refill his water.
    "I should go now, but I'd like to visit again,"
I said.
    "You're welcome any time.  The door is always
open."
    "Do you think that's safe?"  I asked. 
After living in a big city, I was naturally suspicious.
    "How long have you been in Sunset?" he
asked.
    "Just a few hours.  I'm from Philadelphia."
    "Well, you'll like it here, then," he said.
    When I first arrived in Sunset, I found that I'd come
to a dead end on Main Street before I'd driven what would have been half a city
block in most places.  It is as if the town was shoved to the edge of the
mainland as far as possible before the hillside turns a corner with sheer drops
to the ocean.  The town is an eclectic mix of houses and apartments that perch
precariously on the terraced hills above the Pacific Ocean.  Many homes have an
A-frame design and most of those have generous windows with expansive ocean
views.  Although the homes are generally in good repair, at first glance they
appear to have been hastily thrown together.  There are no rows of neat neighborhoods. 
Homes seem to have been haphazardly stuck here and there and are tucked into
the hillside wherever space allows.  From Main Street, there appears to be no
street access or even a walled path like one might find in Europe.  The only
uniformity is in the homes' exterior gray color that is dreary on a sunny day
and oppressive in the fog and rain.  Perhaps the owners intended for their
homes to blend into the scenery instead of distracting from it.  Sarah had led
me to believe the only access to this wide spot at the bottom of a cliff was a
steep, winding road.
    As I walked from Frank's home back toward the diner,
I noticed that his home as well as those few on Main Street and on the first
terrace above it were older than the homes on the hill and that a few owners,
like Frank, had painted the exteriors white, blue, or green.  They were so
close together that from a distance, it appeared they shared a common wall. 
Frank was the only one who had at least two vacant, treed lots next to his home
on the south side.  I could see no motels or hotels.  A sign advertised CABINS,
but I saw nothing to rent.  I wondered if the three structures that looked like
miniature motel rooms on the other side of the treed lot next to Frank could
have been the cabins.  The diner was next to the sign advertising cabins.  On
the same side of Main Street a small deli advertised espresso and shared a
shallow lot with parking for only two vehicles.  The retaining wall at the rear
of the lot was covered with morning glories.  The building on the corner next
to the road leading in and out of town was vacant.
    On the ocean side of the street were an auto repair
business and the restaurant Sarah had told me about.  It seemed strange there
were so many places to eat with, apparently, only the cabins for visitors.  There
was a vacant lot next to the restaurant before a steep hill led to a parking
area for beach visitors.  I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever find Sarah's beach
house when I saw two small houses adjacent to the parking area, tucked behind
dense shrubbery, and perched above the beach.  I crossed the street to my car and
then parked it in a space to the side of Sarah's house.
    The porch leading to the only door was nearly
obscured with foliage.  Once I found the loose brick and the key Sarah had hid
behind it, I opened the door and went inside.  I started the tea kettle and was
looking for a cup, when I realized I hadn't replaced the key.  As I was hiding
the key behind the loose brick, I noticed the public restrooms that had a view
to