Dawn in Eclipse Bay

reasonable.”
    “I’m sorry, but I’ve made my decision.”
    He frowned. “Obviously that confrontation with Witley was traumatic. Your state of generalized anxiety is extremely high. But I think that when you have a chance to calm down you’ll see that you’re overreacting.”
    She straightened away from the desk, walked to the door and yanked it open. “If you don’t mind, I have a lot of things to do here today, Anderson. I want to leave town the day after tomorrow. That means I don’t have time for this conversation.”
    He hesitated and then apparently decided that further argument would get him nowhere. “Very well. We’ll discuss this later.”
    Don’t hold your breath, she thought. But she managed what she hoped was a civil smile.
    He hesitated and then took the hint and walked out into the hall. He paused.
    “Lillian, perhaps—”
    “Goodbye, Anderson.” She shut the door very firmly in his face.
    It felt good.
    Probably overreacting, but what the heck. She had a right to overreact. Between Gabe, Witley, and Anderson, she’d had a very difficult week.
    She went back to the desk, picked up the phone and called a familiar number.
    Nella Townsend answered on the second ring.
    “Townsend Investigations.”
    “Nella, its me.”
    “Hi, Lil. What can I do for you? Got a new client you want me to check out?”
    “Not exactly. I want you to get some background on a man named Campbell Witley.”
    “Not a client?”
    “No. Ex-boyfriend of one.”
    There was a short, distinct pause on the other end of the line.
    “A problem?” Nella asked.
    “I don’t know. That’s what I want you to find out for me.”
    “Okay, what have you got?”
    “Not much. All I know is that until sometime last fall he was seeing Heather Summers, a client, on a regular basis. You did a check on her when she signed up with Private Arrangements.”
    “Got it. This shouldn’t take long. He’ll probably pop up in her file. I should have a preliminary report ready for you by the end of the day.”
    “Great. I’ll pick it up on my way home. Thanks, Nella. I really appreciate this.”
    “No problem. Got any plans for tonight?”
    “I’ll be packing.”
    “Packing takes energy. You need to eat. Why don’t you have dinner with Charles and me?”
    “I’ll bring the wine.”

    At five-thirty that afternoon, Lillian sank into a deeply cushioned chair in the living room of Nella’s apartment and kicked off her shoes.
    “I’m exhausted. It took an entire day to pack up that office. I thought I’d be finished by two o’clock. How can a person accumulate so much stuff in an office?”
    “One of the great mysteries of life.”
    Nella picked up the blue folder lying on the table and carried it across the room. She wore jeans and a deep yellow blouse with a spread collar. The gold necklace at her throat gleamed against her dark brown skin. She wore her black hair cut close to her head in a style that showed off her excellent bone structure.
    She took the chair that faced Lillian’s, curled one leg under her and opened the folder.
    “I thought you told me all of your files were stored on the hard drive of your computer,” she said.
    “The client files are on the computer along with the program, but that still leaves a lot of paper. Receipts, correspondence, notes to the janitorial staff, messages from the company that leased me the space, you name it. I had to go through every single item and make a decision about whether to keep it or toss it.” Lillian exhaled deeply. “But it’s done and Private Arrangements is no longer in business.”
    “Congratulations,” Nella said. “Feel good?”
    “Yes, but I’ll feel even better after you assure me that Campbell Witley is not a serial killer.”
    “He looks squeaky clean to me.” Nella glanced at some of her notes. “Witley was in the military at one time, as you guessed. He received an honorable discharge. After leaving the service he took over his father’s construction business and has been very successful. He was married for six years. Divorced. No children. No record of arrests, no outstanding warrants, no history of violence or abuse.”
    “Just what I wanted to hear,” Lillian said.
    “I also managed to get hold of his ex-wife. She said Witley was the domineering type and inclined to get a little loud at times, but she sounded shocked at the suggestion that he might turn violent. She said he was, and I quote,