CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The moment I met the elderly Reverend Timothy Miller, I knew he was a patient man. Lauren was pacing his office with a scowl on her face, but Reverend Miller sat at his desk quietly drinking tea while everyone scurried about his office. Tony had his camera set up behind one of the guest chairs, and Bill’s camera was to one side of the desk, practically pointed at the other one.
“Where the hell have you been, Summer?” Lauren snapped.
“I got lost,” I said, crossing the room to the minster’s desk. “Hi, I’m Summer. Thank you so much for meeting with us today.” With Lauren’s tight schedule and need to follow everything by the script, I had a feeling she wouldn’t approve of our questioning the Dollar General employees. Better to keep it to ourselves, especially since we hadn’t discovered anything.
“You got lost in the Dollar General?” Lauren asked in disbelief.
“Have you been inside the Dollar General?” Dixie asked. “There’s miles and miles of discounts.”
Lauren stared at her blankly for a second, then shook her head. “Never mind.”
Karen handed me another piece of paper. “We’re all set up for you to talk to the reverend. After we finish up, we’re going to talk to one of the people in Otto’s Sunday-school class in the classroom. We’re on a tight schedule, so we’re going try to do this in two takes with both cameras rolling.”
“Okay.” I noticed two chairs in front of Reverend Miller’s desk. “I want Dixie sitting in on this one.”
“That’s not necessary,” Karen said.
“Actually,” I said, starting to look over the questions, “it is.” I held the paper out to Dixie and leaned close to her ear. “What do you think?”
“There’s nothing about what happened Sunday,” she whispered.
“Exactly,” I said with a knowing smile. I sat in one of the chairs, and Dixie sat in the other.
“Reverend, I’m sure Karen and Lauren filled you in on what we’re doing, but just to be clear, Dixie and I are going to ask you some questions about Otto Olson. Tony and Bill will be filming, but we’re going to pretend they aren’t here.”
He nodded slightly and set the teacup back down on the desk.
After Karen started the scene, I smiled at the minister. “How long have you known Otto Olson?”
“Many, many years,” Reverend Miller said. “I married him and his wife. She’d attended since she was a child.”
“Has he always attended church here?”
“He stopped coming for a long while after his tragedy, but he’s been in regular attendance for the past three years now. He lost his driver’s license several years ago, so different parishioners take turns picking him up. Lately, Falene Able has been picking him up, but he wasn’t there when she stopped this past Sunday.”
“Do you know why?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Does he miss very often?”
“No. Hardly ever.”
“Your parishioners,” I said. “They don’t mind that Otto drinks?”
“Some do, but most of them hope he’ll see the light.”
“And you?” Dixie asked. “Do you think Otto will give up drinking?”
He hesitated. “Of course I join my parishioners in their hope, but I’m also a realist. Otto Olson drinks because he’s heartbroken. He’s biding his time until he can be with his family.”
“That’s so sad,” I said.
“And yet I fear it’s true.”
Lauren called “Cut,” and as we started the scene again, I couldn’t help thinking how odd this was. We were discussing a real missing man, yet we were treating the show like a scripted sitcom. We were using Otto’s possible tragedy as entertainment, which suddenly felt very wrong.
When Lauren called “Cut” and told everyone to pack up and move to the classroom, I excused myself to go to the restroom, needing a moment to pull myself together. I leaned the back of my head against the wall and took a breath. There was something sinister going on with Otto Olson, and I didn’t trust Lauren to let us do a thorough investigation. Cale had blown me off, but I had someone else to try.
A sign I was truly desperate.
Before I could change my mind, I placed a call to the police station.
“Sweet Briar Police,” a young woman said. “This is Amber.”
“I need to speak to Luke Montgomery.”
“Who’s calling?”
“A concerned citizen.”
She sighed. “If you’re calling because of that fit Luke threw at the emergency city council meeting, you’ll need to come into the office and fill out the form.”
What? “No. That’s not why I’m calling. I need to talk to him about a missing person.”
“Is this about the dead man who was found behind poor Ruby Garwood’s garage?”
She wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t already heard, but hearing it from someone at the police station made it more real. “Is it Otto Olson?” But as soon as the question left my mouth, I knew it couldn’t be him. If it had been, surely Cale wouldn’t have told me Otto would turn up.
“Otto? I forgot that he was missin’. Holy Toledo! This is Summer Butler, isn’t it? I know y’all are lookin into Otto’s disappearance.”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Betty Green knows Gretchen McBride. Your show bein’ here is the biggest thing to hit Sweet Briar since Priscilla Trout heard Sherry Baker yelling for help in her bedroom. Willy found her naked as the day she was born and tied up to the bed. He thought something devious had happened, but Sherry fessed up that her boyfriend, Herbie, had tied her up for some kinky sex. He got pissed and left her like that after she compared his performance to Jimmie Dale’s.”
“I’m not sure we’re as exciting as that,” I said. “But I am worried about Otto. That’s why I’m calling.”
“If it makes you feel any better,” she said in a low voice, “the dead man’s not Otto. I don’t know who it is—they won’t tell me because they think I’ll blab it—but Luke would be more upset if it were Otto. Now, you didn’t hear that from me.”
I pushed out a sigh of relief, but something she’d said stuck out to me. “Why would Luke be upset?”
“He has a soft spot for Otto. He’s a champion for the underdogs in this town like—” She cut herself off. “Like lots of people.”
That was weird, but I didn’t think now was the time to address it. “I have some information that I should tell Luke.”
“Well, he’s still at the crime scene, but I can give you his cell number.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Just don’t tell him where you got it.” Then she quickly rattled off a number I repeated twice in my head.
“Thanks.” I was having second thoughts about calling Luke, so I entered his number before I could change my mind.
“Montgomery,” he grunted into the phone when he answered.
I closed my eyes when they started to burn with tears. There was something seriously wrong with me if hearing him grunt his name in my ear could make me heartsick. It had been a decade, for God’s sake. We’d been no more than kids.
“Hello?” he said when I didn’t answer.
Pull yourself together. “Luke, it’s Summer.”
“What the . . . How you’d get this number?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m calling about something important. Otto Olson.”
“I don’t have time to get dragged into your show’s nonsense, Summer. There was a very real murder in the middle of the night, and I’m trying to figure out who did it.”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” I said in a sympathetic voice. “But I think something bad happened to Otto.”
He paused. “Why do you think that?” he finally said, sounding less antagonistic.
“Because Fred and Al said he was scared on Sunday. Scared enough to not want to go to church.”
He paused. “You found that in your investigation?”
“Yeah. We’re at the church now, but my producer is treating this like it’s a joke, and I have a really bad feelin’ about it.”
“Okay . . . Look, I really am busy right now, but I hope to be free in a couple of hours. Maybe you can call me then to tell me what else you’ve found out.”
I was shocked he was taking this seriously. “Okay. Thanks.”
The next interview didn’t take long. The woman tried to convince us that Otto had hidden gold on his old property, then plugged her housecleaning service by saying Otto would have used it if only he’d dig up that gold and start spending it.
After we stopped filming, I pulled Lauren to the side. “Is this the angle we’re taking? That Otto has gold hidden on his property?”
“You have to have a few false leads,” Lauren said. “Otherwise finding him would be too easy. We’ll have a couple of other interviews this afternoon.”
“Please don’t tell me you’ve hidden him somewhere to prolong our search.”
Her eyes lit up. “I don’t, but that’s actually a good idea in case he does turn up.”
I shook my head in disgust.
Dixie was busy talking to Bill, so I left the room to give myself a chance to think.
I paced the hall for a few minutes and was about to go back to the classroom to see where we were headed next, when a twentysomething man with short brown hair and a scruff of a beard stepped out of a dark classroom and blocked my path.
After all the cloak-and-dagger nonsense, I nearly screamed—then I noticed the broom in the man’s hand. Get a grip, Summer. He was the janitor, but his plain blue T-shirt and jeans had thrown me off.
“I know you’re lookin’ for Otto. I know something.” His voice shook and he looked nervous.
“What do you know?”
He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the dark classroom he’d just left. “Otto hasn’t been right for the last couple of weeks. He’s been nervous and on edge. I asked him if everything was okay, and he told me he didn’t know.”
This fit with what Fred and Al had told us.
“But there’s more.” He looked uncertain, then said, “I went fishing out at Lake Edna yesterday, and there’s a path that leads into the woods. I saw a bike there, and I could swear it was Otto’s.”
“How do you know it’s Otto’s?”
“Sometimes his rides to church flake out, or he needs to go to the store or somethin’ and his sister can’t bring him. It’s pretty recognizable. It has big ol’ tires and a basket in the front, and the color’s all messed up. It used to be red, but one day he was drunk and spray-painted it blue, only it didn’t stick very well. The bike I saw at the lake looked just like it.”
“Lake Edna?”
“Yeah, at the Sunny Beach rec area. Out on the walking trail. It was chained off, but I saw the bike out there.” I knew the place well. Luke and I had gone there together countless times over the summer I’d spent in Sweet Briar.
I nodded, feeling sick to my stomach. “Thanks, but how do you think his bike got out there? That has to be twenty miles. That would probably take him all day.”
“Dunno. That’s why I wasn’t sure it was his, but the more I think on it, the more I wonder.”
Now I had to convince Lauren to go out there.
Everyone was almost done packing up by the time I got back, and Lauren announced we were breaking for lunch before we started investigating a new case in the afternoon.
“I thought you said we had more interviews about Otto’s disappearance,” I said.
“Two of them flaked out,” she snarled. “Now we’re scrambling. This show is cursed.”
“Dixie and I are gonna run out to Lake Edna.”
Dixie’s eyes widened.
“What in the hell for?” Lauren asked.
“I haven’t been out there since I was seventeen,” I said. “I want to see it for old times’ sake. Besides, it’s our lunch break, so as long as we’re back before call time, what does it matter?”
Her brow furrowed and she studied me for several seconds. “Fine. But take Bill with you to get some B-roll of the place.”
“Hey!” Bill protested. “It’s my lunch break too.”
This was working out better than I could have hoped. If we found his bike, we could have Bill film it. “We’ll feed you,” I said. “There used to be a really good chicken place on the way. Is it still there, Dixie?”
The way Dixie was watching me told me that she knew I was up to something. “Yeah, Mama Jane’s has the best Southern fried chicken south of the Mason-Dixon Line.” Then she gave him a flirty smile. “You can ride in the middle. There’s plenty of room. No need to be ridin’ in the back like you do with Tony.”
His gaze dipped slightly to her generous cleavage. “Okay.”
I scowled. I wanted Bill to come with us, but I didn’t like Dixie using herself like that.
“Okay, get going!” Lauren said, waving her arm in a big sweep.
Bill picked up his camera case and started for the door.
I started after him, then stopped. “What about Chuck?”
Lauren’s face scrunched up in irritation. “Why do you need him? Bill’s only getting B-roll.”
“Okay.”
Dixie and I trailed Bill to the truck, leaving the rest of the crew in the poor reverend’s office. Dixie reached over and turned off my mike, then pulled off hers and turned it off as well. “What’s really goin’ on?” she whispered while Bill put his gear in the back.
I told her about my call to Luke and what the janitor had said. She was silent for several seconds before she said, “I’m surprised you called Luke.”
“Well,” I said, sounding defensive, “he was the one Gretchen talked to in the first place. I thought maybe that gave him automatic possession of the case.”
“You might be right, but you should have called Willy.” She shook her head. “No, you should have told me, and we could have figured it out together.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
My apology caught her by surprise. She finally said, “Okay, now that we have that established, what’s your plan? Obviously you want Bill there.”
“I do, but not at the price of using you to get it.”
She waved her hand, and I grabbed it and pulled her to a halt. “Don’t do it, Dixie. Don’t use your body and your looks to get men to do what you want.”
Horror filled her eyes and she jerked loose. “You think I’m a slut?”
“That’s not what I mean at all.” I ran a hand over my head, frustrated that this was coming across wrong. “Look, Dixie, although I’ve done a shitty job of showing it over the last few years, I love you. I don’t want you to get hurt. I know firsthand that letting men use you and treat you like an object chips at your soul little by little. Don’t do it. It might seem like it’s worth it in the short run, but you’ll hate yourself for it later.”
The hardness in her eyes faded. “Is that what happened to you with your costar from Gotcha!?”
Little did she know. “Something like that. But he was only one of several. Just don’t do it, okay? We’ll always find another way.”
She threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug without saying a word.
I squeezed her back, then noticed Bill standing at the back of the truck and looking like he was having second thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” I asked as I released Dixie and headed back toward him, prepared to do a lot of sweet talking.
“I don’t have anything to tie the camera down, and I don’t want it sliding around.”
“Do you need to sit back there with it?” Dixie asked. “Because it’s a beautiful day, and I would be happy to sit back there with you.”
I sucked in an angry breath, pissed that we’d just had that conversation and she was doing the exact opposite of what I’d told her, but she turned her back to him as he lowered he truck gate to climb in.
“I know what you’re thinkin’,” Dixie whispered to me, “but I wanna do this. He’s actually a nice guy.”
“He’s a lech,” I hissed back. “I saw him checkin’ out your boobs, Dixie.”
“So what? Men check women out.” Then, before I could protest more, she spun around, her long platinum-blonde hair swinging with her. “Can you help me up?”
I nearly snorted. She’d grown up on a farm. She’d been crawling in truck beds before she could walk. And I would know. I’d been there with her. But I got into the truck and turned over the engine, telling myself that Dixie was a grown woman, capable of making her own decisions.
So why did I suddenly feel so responsible for her?