The Witness

have troublemakers. I’ll try to steer clear of him while I’m here.”
    “He’s in jail, and likely to be there awhile. You’ll find most people who live here are friendly. We depend on tourists, and artists like yourself. That’s a serious camera you’ve got there.”
    “My baby.” He tapped it. He really wanted the pictures, nearly as much as the information she so breezily passed on. “I still do film now and then, but digital’s my primary choice.”
    “If you get anything you want to sell, you can take it into Shop Street Gallery. They buy a lot of local photography.”
    “I appreciate the tip. A couple sales’ll keep me in hot dogs and beans for the next few weeks.”
    He chatted with her for a few more minutes, then walked back toward the center of town. If Sunny O’Hara was anything to go by, Roland thought, the client wasn’t going to be pleased with the report.
    He headed for the diner. Diners and waitresses were usually good information sources. He chose a booth with a good view of the comings and goings, set his camera carefully on the tabletop.
    He was tempted to take a picture of the waitress—he really did love saturating himself in the persona, and she had a good, interesting face.
    “Coffee, please.”
    “How about some pie to go with it? Cherry’s especially good today.”
    “Cherry pie?” He thought of encroaching middle-age paunch. So he’d do fifty extra crunches tonight. “I don’t think I can say no.”
    “Warmed up? Vanilla-bean ice cream?”
    Okay, seventy-five extra crunches. “Yes, ma’am. I don’t know anybodystrong enough to say no to that. If it’s as good as it sounds, I’m going to be in here every day while I’m in town.”
    “It is. Visiting?” she said, in nearly the same easy tone as Sunny.
    He gave her the same cover, even showed her a few pictures he’d taken of the mural house.
    “You never know what she’ll paint on it next. Those are right nice pictures, too.”
    “Thanks.”
    “I’ll put your order in.”
    He doctored his coffee while he waited, studied his guidebook like a good tourist. She brought back a generous wedge of pie with ice cream gently melting on the laced crust. “Sounds good, looks good.” Roland forked off a bite. “Tastes even better. Thanks, Kim.”
    “You enjoy, now.” She glanced over, and so did he, as Brooks walked in. “Hey there, Chief.” When she gestured to the booth directly in front of him, Roland decided to double her tip.
    “Just coffee.”
    “You ain’t heard about the cherry pie à la mode. I got it on good authority nobody can say no.” She sent Roland a wink as she spoke, and he toasted her with a forkful.
    “It’d be wasted on me right now. Lawyers.”
    “Well, sweetie, that calls for two scoops of vanilla-bean on the pie.”
    “Next time. I just came in for a decent cup of coffee, and some breathing room to review my notes.”
    “All right, then. Blake’s lawyers?” she asked, as she poured the coffee.
    “New ones. Harry got the ax, and between you and me, I think he’s doing a dance of joy at the firing. Blake hired on a firm from up north.”
    “Yankee lawyers?” Kim’s mouth twisted in derision. “I shouldn’t be surprised.”
    “Armani suits and Louis Vuitton briefcases, at least according to the paralegal Big John Simpson’s got doing research on the case. They’ve gotmotions on top of motions. Want a change of venue for one thing. The judge doesn’t like them, so that’s something.”
    “Want to get him away from here, away from where people know what a nasty piece of work that Blake boy is.”
    “Can’t say I blame them. But here or on Pluto, fact’s fact. The trouble is facts aren’t always enough in a courtroom.”
    On one step back she slapped both fists on her hips. “You don’t think he’ll get off? Not after what he did.”
    “I’m not going to think it, because if he gets out of this whistling, the next time, I know in my gut, he’s likely to kill somebody.”
    “Well, my Jesus, Brooks.”
    “Sorry.” Brooks rubbed at his tired eyes. “I should’ve taken my crappy mood to my office.”
    “You sit right there and have your coffee, and you don’t let all this weigh on you.” She leaned down, kissed the top of his head. “You did your job, and everybody knows it. You can’t do more than your job.”
    “Feels like I ought to. Anyway … just the coffee.”
    “You holler if you want anything else.” Shaking her head, she walked away,