A Singular Witness

Annie

Everatt Neilson stared out of the spotless glass forming a barrier between himself and the great roiling storm clouds that had begun crowding out what was left of the afternoon light.  He was aware that it was common child's play to equate the shapes of clouds with animals or other objects, but he had always found that the sky only truly came alive in a storm.  He watched with fascination as great peals of thunder let loose streaks of lightning that burst forth from the clouds and seemed to sizzle in a charcoal haze that choked out the sun.

Neilson walked slowly over to his desk and locked the top drawer.  He then straightened his tie, put his suit coat on, and walked out of his office, checking to make sure that the door was locked as he left.  The air in the elevator was flat and stale as he traveled down to the parking garage, a vast concrete cavern where the only sounds were the echoes of car doors and engines, and the incessant hum of fluorescent lights. 

Everatt drove an electric hybrid Lexus.  He'd paid off market to have the external engine sound the car was programmed to make at low speeds as a safety precaution disabled.  The parking attendant still looked spooked every time Neilson appeared at the garage exit seemingly out of nowhere, in near total silence.  By the time he pulled out of the garage and onto the street level, the rain was coming down in sheets.  His own headlights were little more than a glowing orb of white light that floated out in front of him, lending nothing to visibility.

He drove two miles or so before he resigned to pull over.  On a corner just ahead of him there sat a single story white brick building with a sign that read 'Kaisers'.  The large neon red block letters of the sign swam in the rain, forming a shining puddle in the street.  An 'open' sign glowed over the door, and the few patrons sitting at the tables inside stared dolefully out at the rain, soggy coats still dripping on the black and white tile of the floor beneath their chair legs.  Everatt slowly parked in the nearest available space to the entrance.  He opened his umbrella in sync with his car door, quickly slamming the car door closed behind him and making a quick dash into the restaurant.  He surveyed his surroundings and found the restaurant was exactly the kind of place he'd never had any use for.  The interior looked like it had been maintained in precise original condition for well over a century. 

Behind the marble bar, which loomed over chrome topped stools, stretched an enormous mahogany service station, at the center of which was a large mirror framed by stained glass panels.  There was an air of nostalgia about the vintage ice cream parlor that Neilson could sense, but for which he held no appreciation.

He sat at a small table near the door and looked over the drink menu.  A tall thick woman with bleached hair approached in a waitress uniform that fit too well.

"Know what you want?"  She asked, a weary smile lifting the worn pouches of her cheeks.

Neilson studied her for a moment, noticing the small gold nametag pinned to her lapel, the name ANNIE spelled all in caps. 

"I'll have a hot toddy."  He said.

He noticed when she moved her hand to write his order that there were multiple pock marks filled in with scar tissue in the fleshy crook of her arm.

"A hot toddy is just what the doctor ordered tonight.  I'll have that right out, Mister."  She shuffled toward the bar and Neilson turned his attention back to the rain.

It was still pouring, torrents of water rushed along the curb on either side of the street.  Neilson vaguely wondered whether the river would rise.  The waitress was back with his drink in no time at all.

"Hope it warms you up."  She said, setting the drink down in front of him.

"Thank you, Annie; isn't it?"

"It is."  She sighed.

He narrowed his eyes,  "Tired of the name?"

"No; just tired of being me tonight."  She smiled, but her eyes drooped heavily.

Neilson narrowed his gaze ever so slightly.  "You'll be off soon enough though, won't you?"

"I suppose.  We close in an hour.  Doesn't seem soon enough."  She covered her mouth with the back of her hand, stifling a yawn.

"There's always closing time."  Neilson murmured.

She tried unsuccessfully to hold back an even bigger yawn.  "Thank the Lord in heaven." 

Neilson watched her walk back to the register.  He sipped his hot toddy and wondered where she was going in an hour's time, and how she planned to get there. 

Annie looked back at him, but only briefly.  She wearily surveyed the sparse customers that sat at the few occupied tables, and satisfied that their drinks were full enough, she placed a phone call.

Neilson was able to make out bits of her conversation in spite of the hushed tone she tried to maintain.  She seemed intensely concerned about a sick child, or some such dull nonsense.  It was always the biggest disasters that bred the most.  Like earthquakes that spawn tsunamis, addicts could always be counted on to dump waves of unwanted children on the system.

After a lengthy conversation, Annie hung up and sheepishly made the rounds, waiting on the few customers who hadn't bolted the moment the rain let up a bit.

"Care for another?"  She asked Neilson, eyeing his empty glass.

He drew out a few bills and laid them on the table.  "No.  It's high time I head home and let you do the same."

It occurred to him how easy it would be to lie in wait in his silent car until closing, and follow her home.

At the mention of home, Annie's face fell.  "My dog is sick.  She had surgery and they kept her at the vet's for a few days for observation.  That's why I was on the phone.  I have a Chihuahua, a long hair.  For fifteen years I've come home to her, and now when I open the door after work, it feels like falling down a hole.  There's nothing there." 

She pulled out her phone without waiting for him to respond, and showed him the picture on her lock screen.  A small fawn colored bit of fur stared back, but it was just a picture.

Neilson thought he'd seen the same dog before somewhere.  He said nothing, but nodded stiffly as he rose, dropping an extra bill on the table as he left.  He stood for a moment out on the pavement, feeling the fine drizzle that sprayed beneath his umbrella on the breeze.

Back in the driver's seat of his car, he didn't turn on the lights or start the engine.  He sat and waited.  After a few moments, it came to him.  As a boy he'd been left fairly regularly with an elderly aunt.  She was widowed and lived alone, with a small Chihuahua.  That was the dog he'd remembered when he saw the picture.  His aunt had called her dog Queenie.  The little dog had always been at the door when he arrived for a visit, wagging her tail eagerly. 

Queenie's tail curled over her back like a decorative plume.  One afternoon while his aunt was working in her garden and Everatt was watching from the back porch, where he sat bored, he lit the long hair of the dog's tail on fire.  She ran off screaming and howling as the fire traveled the length of her tail like it was a fuse.  His aunt had turned the hose on the dog to put out the flame.  When she took Queenie to the vet afterward, he had to cut off what was left of the little dog's mutilated tail.

That evening the only thing Everatt's aunt said to him was, "The only thing worse than being cold, is failing to seek out any warmth."

A long time had passed before Everatt visited that aunt again.  When he did, Queenie had greeted him as usual, wagging her little stump.

Neilson rarely recalled things from his childhood, and the present resurfaced abruptly with the sound of someone talking loudly in the parking lot.  Annie had stepped out of the restaurant's side door and was standing just in front of his car. Unaware of his proximity, she was chewing her nail while she spoke. 

"Yes, I'm Annie.  I called earlier about my dog.  You have her there for observation.  I was just hoping for an update on her condition."

She startled when Neilson turned on his lights.  Blinded by the sudden glare, she raised a tired hand to shield her face.  He started the engine but it made no noise as he shifted into gear.  He slowly reversed, and rolling out of the parking lot, drove away.