CHAPTER FOUR
Bill, another cameraman, hopped into the back of a pickup truck and filmed us as we drove the ten blocks to the McBrides’ house. As soon as we were alone together, Dixie turned in her seat to face me. We were going about ten miles an hour—apparently it was easier to film us that way—so I was able to shoot a glance at her every now and then.
“So,” she said, “Maybelline started a Facebook page for Sweet Briar gossip—”
“Maybelline? The one who owns the café downtown?”
She laughed. “How many Maybellines do you know?”
Touché.
“She hears all kinds of things at the café and then posts about them online,” Dixie continued. “People tell her things, knowin’ she’ll post their stories without usin’ their names.”
“I don’t think I’m gonna like where you’re going with this . . . ,” I said.
She grinned. “Today, she posted about your encounter with Luke. Someone called it a reunion of star-crossed lovers.”
I rolled my eyes and groaned.
“There’s even a photo. Looks like there’s still a spark, Summer.”
She held up the phone as I pulled to a halt at a stop sign. The photo showed me with my side to the wall and Luke pressed to my front. I was looking up at him expectantly while he stared down at me with a dazed expression.
“I’m here to make this show,” I said as I drove through the intersection. “Not rekindle my love life.”
“So no boyfriend back in LA?”
I shot her a look of warning, but she only laughed. “I’m gonna take that as a no. And just so you know, Luke’s currently single and has been for a good six months.”
“I don’t want to talk about Luke,” I said. It wasn’t exactly true, but I was trying to ignore the impulse. “I want to talk about you. I’m sorry I haven’t been back, but Meemaw . . .”
“Made it pretty clear you weren’t welcome?” she filled in. “I don’t blame you one bit. She barely agreed to take me back in after I got out of juvenile detention.”
“Dixie,” I said in horror. I’d assumed everyone in the family believed in Dixie’s lack of ill intent as much as I did. But Meemaw was one tough customer.
“You know Meemaw,” she said, echoing my thoughts. “But Teddy told her if I wasn’t comin’ back, then he was leavin’, and no one would be runnin’ the farm, and that was that. She got over it. She’s not happy with you bein’ here, but Teddy pulled his threat again, and it’s all good.”
“Teddy wants me here?”
“Of course he does! We Baumgartner cousins need to stick together. We’re family.”
“Meemaw doesn’t think so. She told me I was disowned. That I was as good as dead to her.”
She scowled. “Meemaw’s a cranky old woman who holds a grudge like her life depends on it. But I know she wants you here. Something in her changed when she found out you were comin’ home. Give her time.”
I was pretty sure there wasn’t enough time in the world for her to get over it.
“I wanted to come back . . . ,” I said, thinking this was the wrong time to bring this up, but not sure when the right one would be. “But I let other people talk me out of it. I was told I was too stupid to know what to do with my career and my life, and I listened. I let other people have more influence on my life than I should have. When Pawpaw and your parents died, I was in the middle of filming that stupid movie in Thailand—”
“Summer, you don’t have to explain.”
“I do. I had the director in one ear telling me the movie was depending on me to shoot those scenes. If I left, I would inconvenience a lot of people and cost the producer thousands of dollars. I’d never work again. And then I had my mother in my other ear, telling me I needed to stay. That Pawpaw and your parents were already dead, and it would do no good for me to drop all my responsibilities to go home.” My voice broke. “I wanted to come, Dixie, but I was weak. I will never forgive myself for that, and apparently neither will Meemaw.”
“Summer.”
“No. It’s okay. I understand. I don’t blame her, and I’m surprised you don’t hate me too. Especially after everything you went through.”
“Hate you?” she asked in disbelief. “How could I hate you? That summer you came back to Sweet Briar, when Meemaw had cancer, you were already this big star, but you were so nice to me. And when you found out that Juliette Benson was giving me a hard time for having a flat chest, you found her at the pool and told her that Baumgartners were late bloomers, and everyone knows late-bloomer breasts were the best.”
“You were my little cousin,” I said. “Of course I had your back.”
“And now I have yours.”
My chin trembled. “You have no idea how much that means to me, Dixie.”
“We Baumgartner girls need to stick together.”
But it didn’t ease my guilt for not being there for Dixie in her time of need. The letters I’d sent while she was in detention now felt like such an insignificant gesture, and the few phone calls we’d exchanged later had been cursory. I was the oldest out of the three of us. I should have made more effort. I should have stopped feeling sorry for myself and lamenting my problems long enough to realize the other people I cared about were hurting too. That Meemaw wasn’t the only one who got a say in who was family.
I swallowed hard—and changed the subject because I needed to stay collected on the shoot. “Say, Dixie, can you tell me what you know about Otto? It would be good to have some idea about what we’re walking into.”
“I used to work at the Dollar General, and Otto and his buddies like to hang out in the grassy area next to the parking lot.”
I shot her a glance. “Wouldn’t it be easier to go to a bar?”
“The closest is the Jackhammer out on West Highway 10. Otherwise, you have to go up to Edna.” She pushed out a breath. “Otto’s a cheap drunk anyway. He wouldn’t pay bar prices. He and his friends, Al and Fred, sit in lawn chairs around the picnic table and drink.”
My mouth dropped open. “I find it hard to believe Luke would allow three guys to drink in public like that.”
She grinned. “They’re pretty good at hiding it.”
“Still . . .”
“Everyone loves Otto. Sure, he’s a drunk, but he’s a friendly one, and honestly, he doesn’t have much else. So people look out for him.”
“Huh.”
“Like I said, he usually hangs out next to the Dollar General, but he goes missing every so often. His health’s not the greatest nowadays, so that might have something to do with it. Hasn’t stopped his drinking any. I noticed he wasn’t there last weekend, but I haven’t been over there since then.”
“Maybe his sister will have a better idea about how long he’s been missing. Do you know anything about her?”
“No. I didn’t even know he had a sister until Lauren mentioned her. He never talks about his family.”
Ten minutes later, after Bill finally got the footage he needed, I turned onto Gretchen McBride’s street, pulling up in front of the second house from the corner.
We were met by the crew when we got out of the truck. Lauren told Tony and Chuck to go set up in the house and then turned to me and Dixie.
“Here’s the list of questions you need to ask,” she said, handing me a paper. “When we finish here, we’re running by the Dollar General to talk to two of Otto’s acquaintances.”
I took the list and glanced it over. “Dixie already knows a lot about Otto Olson that’s not on this list. We should combine that with what we learn here and then decide where to investigate.”
Anger flashed in Lauren’s eyes, and she opened her mouth to say something before promptly closing it and pursing her lips together. After she took a deep breath, she said, “While I appreciate you taking some initiative, Summer, we have things planned out for this case. Every lead or clue we plan to have you look into has already been scheduled over the next two weeks, so I would appreciate it if you would just follow the script. We’ll do multiple takes to make sure we get plenty of angles and expressions.”
My mouth dropped open. “Let me get this straight—is everything scripted and coordinated? I thought this was a reality show.”
Lauren burst into genuine laughter. “What part of you being a private eye is reality?”
I wasn’t sure what annoyed me more—her tone or the fact that she had a point. “So you just want me to pretend I’m investigating?”
Lauren patted my cheek. “Now you’ve got it, Darling.” She offered me her best interpretation of a warm smile. “Karen interviewed the McBrides last night and put together a plan. But we have a lot of places to go today, which means we’re on a very tight schedule. We need to get in there and film this interview ASAP.” Her smile looked like it hid sharp teeth. “Please.”
I smiled back, just as fake. “Well, since you said please . . .”
Lauren spun on her heels and marched into the house.
This was going to be a long two weeks. I read over the short list of questions. Most of them looked pretty bland, but there were a few sensational ones, such as How long has your brother been the town drunk? I was definitely rephrasing that one.
Dixie leaned over and glanced at the paper. “Looks easy enough.”
I handed it to her. “Make sure I stay on track.”
“Don’t you need the paper to remember the questions?”
“I memorized them already.” Then I saw her look of surprise. I added, “I’m used to memorizing pages of scripts . . . or at least I used to be. I’ve got this.”
When we entered the small ranch house, the McBrides were sitting on a sofa that had seen better days. Gretchen McBride looked like she was in her late forties. She was wearing a pair of khaki pants and a white shirt covered in flowers that washed out her complexion. Karen really should have spent part of her time last night helping Gretchen pick out her clothes. Nevertheless, she looked plenty put together considering that her brother was the town drunk. A slightly older man sat next to her, his eyes wide and his hands shaking with nerves.
I walked over to the couple and offered my hand. “Mr. and Mrs. McBride? I’m Summer. Thank you for letting us into you home.”
Mr. McBride wiped his hand on his jeans, then stood and shook my hand. “I ain’t never done nothing like this before, and I sure ain’t never met a real TV star before.”
“That’s not true, Pete,” Gretchen said in a patient tone. “You met Pipsqueak, the clown on that show that used to air on the local access channel.”
“He wasn’t a real star.”
“You sure thought so.” She lifted her hands in the air and performed her own interpretation of jazz hands. “You were all spazzy then too.” Gretchen lowered her voice and winked. “He’s nervous.”
My eyes shifted quickly to Lauren then back to Mr. McBride. I was pretty sure my career had just been compared to the status of a D-star clown named Pipsqueak. “I’m not sure what Karen told y’all about how this works, but we’ll be being doing a couple of takes. So how about we try a take or two with you with your wife, Mr. McBride, and then we’ll see how everyone feels?”
He nodded. “Okay. But call me Pete.”
“Okay, Pete, let’s get started.”
The crew had already arranged the living room furniture, and they indicated that I was to sit in the chair to the side of the McBrides’ sofa. Lauren said Dixie could stay out of sight for the interview. Chuck performed another sound check, and then we started to shoot.
After our on-camera introductions, I rested my elbow on the armchair, leaned closer to Gretchen, and said, “I hear your brother is missing. When was the last time you saw him?”
“Last Friday.” She sniffed and dabbed her nose with a tissue. “He’s known to disappear for a few days at a time, but never for so long.”
“Have you notified the police?”
“I called Luke, and he said Otto was probably off fishing and that I needed to wait longer before involving him.”
“Is that what he does when he takes off?” I asked. “Does he go fishing?”
“He used to,” she said. “Over at the creek that runs through the Masseys’ land.” Then she hastily added, “They gave him permission.”
I nodded. “You said used to. He hasn’t lately?”
“No. I don’t think so. A few weeks ago there was a big storm comin’ in—they were threatenin’ a tornado—so I sent Pete out there to look for him. Otto doesn’t have a car—just his bike—and I was worried sick he’d get blown away, but he wasn’t out there.”
“Where was he?”
“That’s just it, I don’t know. I mentioned it to Otto the next time I saw him, and he blustered about and wouldn’t give me a straight answer.” She pinched her lips and turned more serious. “Something is goin’ on with him the last couple of weeks. He hasn’t been himself.”
“How so?”
“He’s been nervous, you know? Like extra jumpy. I think he’s hidin’.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Hiding from what?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I hired you.”
I took a moment—both to build dramatic tension and because her words had put an actual lump in my throat—then nodded again. “Can you give me a list of his friends? Who he hung out with? Also, do you have a key to his house or apartment? It would be great if we could check it out.”
“Yes, of course,” she said, then pulled a list out of her pocket. The paper got stuck, and she had to buck her hips up a few times before she worked it loose and handed it to me. “I made it last night.”
I opened the paper and saw a list of names and addresses, only it was a copy of her handwritten note. I could only presume that Karen had the original.
I summoned up Karen’s list in my head, making sure I’d touched on all the questions. I handed her one of the business cards from my pocket, then grabbed a pen from the table next to the sofa and scribbled down my cell number. “This is my number. If you think of anything else that will help, give me a call or text. I’ll let you know when we find something.”
I stood, and she and her husband stood too.
“Thank you,” Pete said, shaking my hand. “I know most people in this town think Otto’s a joke, but he means something to us.”
“I’ll do my best to find him.” I dropped his hand, and Lauren yelled “Cut.”
We set up to reshoot the whole thing, and I couldn’t help thinking how Pete’s description of Otto, and how the town saw him, differed from Dixie’s. The interview went pretty much the same, although it seemed much less natural on Gretchen’s part, which wasn’t a surprise. She did all the talking, but after I finished asking her Karen’s questions, something occurred to me, and I turned to her husband. “Earlier you said that the town thinks Otto’s a joke. Could you explain that? What has given you that impression?”
He blinked, looking like a raccoon caught in a flashlight beam while it raided a garbage can, but to his credit, he didn’t contradict my lie about how I’d heard the information. “People say things.”
“Like what?”
“They think he’s simple. You know, slow-minded. But he’s not. He’s sharp as a tack. I think he likes to play dumb because nobody expects anything from him. He doesn’t want that to change.”
I leaned forward, feeling like I was onto something. “Why not?”
“On account of his wife and kids.”
Gretchen shushed him and lightly swatted his arm. “She doesn’t want to hear that.”
“Actually,” I said gently, “I do.”
Gretchen released a heavy sigh. “Otto was married once. A long time ago. His wife and kids . . . they were in a fire. They didn’t make it.”
I gasped. “I’m so sorry.” I reached over and put my hand on her knee. “How long ago?”
She covered my hand with hers. “About fifteen years now. It happened while everyone was asleep.”
“But Otto got out?” I asked, pulling back my hand and sitting up again.
Gretchen hesitated. “Otto and Cheryl had had a fight. He was stayin’ over at his friend’s house.”
“Oh, dear.”
“He was never the same after that.” She shook her head, her mouth turning into a frown. “He was a suspect for a while before they cleared it up. He had a drinking problem even back then—that was the reason for their fight—but his reason for sobering up left with them.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She nodded, wiping a tear from her eye. “Otto’s a good man—flawed, but good.”
“Everyone is flawed,” I said. “There’s no judgment on my part.”
“Just find him. Please.”
“We’ll do our best.”
Lauren yelled “Cut” and immediately wanted to start the scene again, but Gretchen was quietly crying. I looked up and realized Dixie wasn’t next to Karen anymore.
“Where’s Dixie?”
Karen shrugged. “She went outside just a few moments ago.”
I stood to go after her, but Lauren grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going? We have another scene to shoot.”
I gestured behind me. “Poor Gretchen needs a moment to get herself together, and I’m worried about my cousin.”
“What on earth for?”
“Because both of her parents died in a fire nine years ago.”