by Terry Shames
“I don’t want to scare you, but the woman had arranged for a date with a man on the same match-up site that your mamma was involved in.”
He takes a gasping breath. “Well, goddammit, we need to talk to the people who own the site and find out who this man is.”
I tamp him down with my hands. “Let’s go inside. Did you eat breakfast?”
It turns out Scott has been on the phone all morning and hasn’t eaten. Feeling like an interloper, I take eggs out of the refrigerator. Loretta doesn’t have any bacon, but there’s some patty sausage, which I fry up along with scrambled eggs and toast. While we eat, I try to calm Scott by telling him that it’s actually helpful that two women are missing. “We have a lot more people looking for them. We’re going to figure out what happened.”
“But will it be in time? I mean . . .”
I look him straight in the eye. “You know, your mamma and I are real close friends. I’m going to work nonstop until I find her.”
“I know it,” he mumbles. “I just worry that we won’t find her in time.”
“We’re all worried and, believe me, we’re on this. You know, it might be better if you go back home. There’s not a thing you can do here.”
He hunches over a cup of coffee, and I can see that he’s at war with whether to leave. I know how he feels. I’m feeling helpless at the moment. But at least for me, I know there are things I can do.
“Why don’t you consider it, and meanwhile, I’d like to take another look at your mamma’s desk and go onto her computer again.”
“Maybe I’ll call my wife,” he says. He heads outside again to make his call. I feel sorry for him. He seems like a man who’s used to taking charge, and there’s nothing he can do.
The desk hasn’t magically grown any leads since I last looked through it, even though I go through the file folders more carefully. I log into Loretta’s computer and pull up her history. Well, there it is. She went onto the dating site many times in the past couple of weeks. I hit the latest entry, but when I get to the site, it wants a user name and password.
I find the information on a Post-It in the middle desk drawer. And I’m in. This is where I should have been all along, and I would have been if I’d taken her disappearance more seriously from the beginning. Loretta may have felt the need to write down names on a yellow pad, but the dating site has kept them for her in her own file. I scroll through profile after profile. There are men of all shapes and sizes. Bald, wrinkled, smooth-faced, silver-haired, glasses, no glasses, smirks, shy grins, slick, angry, and even gloomy. You’d think if a man was trying to attract a woman’s interest, he’d at least manage a smile. But then I suppose there are women who like serious men. It’s all there, including a couple of men who I recognize, to my chagrin. I match the profiles with her list of names and see that she rejected both of them. If circumstances weren’t so grim, I’d laugh.
Most of the profiles have pictures with them, but among them I see no one who looks like the photo we found in Loretta’s desk. That means I have to contact each of the eight men with no profile picture to find out whether he’s the one in the photo.
The profiles show only a first name—and there’s no one named Andrew in the list. I hope that means that whoever Elaine Farquart was meeting was not the same person Loretta was meeting. But it seems farfetched that two different women would disappear around the same time with two different men. What I suspect is that whoever “Andrew” is, he used a different name on his profile and then when the women replied to him, he told them his real name was Andrew. I go back through the photos slowly. Is there anyone here who I think a woman would consider almost too good-looking? I should ask one of Loretta’s friends.
What strikes me is that Loretta is a social person. It’s hard for me to imagine her doing this computer dating completely on the sly and not confiding in anyone. If she did tell somebody, though, she might have sworn them to secrecy, and they might not be aware that it’s high time to break that promise. As word gets out, they’ll know.
Scott comes back in, looking better from having talked to his wife. “Marcie says I should come back home. She says I’m most likely underfoot here. Is that right?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I say. “But I don’t know what more you might do to help right now if you stay. You’re not that far away, and if we need you, you can be back here pretty fast.”
“That’s what Marcie said.”
“You haven’t told me what your relatives said when you called them. I assume you got nothing from them.”
“Nobody knows anything. I swear my younger brother thinks it’s my fault she’s missing. He told me I ought to keep better tabs on her. How am I supposed to do that?”
“He’s worried.”
“I know it. He’s all the way back east.” He grimaces. “I know him. He thinks everybody but him is an incompetent fool, and if he was here, he’d find her in nothing flat.”
“If it comes to that, maybe I’ll call him and get him out here.”
CHAPTER 11
Back at headquarters, I’m stewing over what steps to take next, when a phone call comes in from Ellen Forester. “You were right! Loretta did tell one of the members of the class that she was trying out a dating website. It’s Kathy Weinman. Kathy said she doesn’t know much, but Loretta did mention that she was going to go out with a couple of the men she met through the site.”
“Is Kathy at the studio now?”
“She’ll be here for a two o’clock class. I figured you’d want to talk to her, so I asked her if she could come in early.”
I don’t have time to sit down at the café for lunch, but I stop by and ask Lurleen to have the cook make me a roast beef sandwich before I head over to meet Kathy.
Kathy is a tall woman with red hair shot through with gray. Ellen lets us use her office to talk. It’s a working office, with stacks of papers on the desk and paintings leaning against the wall, some framed and others not. I bring the chair out from behind Ellen’s desk so it doesn’t feel so much like an interrogation. Kathy is one of those tall women who seems to be uncomfortable with her height. She slouches in her chair, knees together primly and hands in her lap, like she’s trying to make herself small.
“Did Ellen tell you what’s going on?”
“She said Loretta is missing.”
“We’re going to find her. Ellen tells me that you might have information for me.”
“I’m afraid it’s not much. I take a Wednesday afternoon class with Loretta, and last time she was in class, I went over to her house for cake, and she told me she had been looking online for companionship.” She shoots me a quick glance. “You know, like a man to go out with sometimes. She said she was going to meet one or two men she contacted through a dating website.”
“Did she tell you anything about the men?”
“Well, back up. I told her I thought she ought to have coffee with a man before she went out with him on a real date.” She flashes me a hesitant smile. “You know, in case he’s not a good match. Or if he turned out to have lied to her.”
“What did she say?”
“She was way ahead of me. She said she had already met one man, and they had gone for coffee. She said he was nice, but nothing special. She was planning to meet three more of them for coffee.”
“Did she say when?”
“I don’t remember the first one, but I think she was going to Bryan last Sunday afternoon and then to Bobtail on Tuesday.”
I remember Loretta was dressed up last Saturday when she came to see me about the goat rodeo. That must have been what she was up to. “Isn’t that kind of crowding it? Three men in five days?”
Kathy chuckles. “That’s what I said. But you know Loretta. She’s efficient. She said if she was going to make a serious effort, there was no reason to fool around, and she might as well get on with it.”
“Sounds like her.” I laugh, but my pulse speeds up. I may be looking at a lead at last. “Did you talk to her after she went to
Bryan?”
“No, we don’t usually see each other between classes. I mean we aren’t close friends, we just enjoy meeting after the workshop to go over the techniques we learned and problems we’re having with painting. To tell you the truth, I was surprised that she brought up the business about her dates. She said she didn’t want people in town to know what she was up to, in case it didn’t go well, but that she was dying to tell somebody.”
“You didn’t think anything about it when she was not in class last week?”
“I asked Ellen, and she said she didn’t know why she hadn’t come. But she seemed funny about it. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when she told me Loretta was missing.”
“You have any idea what coffee shop Loretta was going to with either man?”
“She asked me if I knew the one in Bobtail, which I do. It’s the one by the courthouse, The Hot Spot.”
I nod. I know that one well because I’ve been there with Jenny from time to time.
“The one in Bryan, I didn’t know, and I can’t remember the name. It was a funny name for a coffee shop. Reminded me of a Greek name. Like Constantine or something like that, but that wasn’t it.”
“If you think of it, give me a call.” I hand her my card. “You’ve been a great help. I appreciate it.”
“I hope everything is okay with her. She’s a good person.” She squares her shoulders. “I have an idea. I know this sounds silly, but have you thought about putting out a flyer asking if anybody has seen her?”
“I did think about it, and I think it’s a good idea. I haven’t had time yet.” And until this morning, I didn’t feel the urgency.
“I could help. I’ll get some friends to tack them up around Bobtail.” Back at headquarters, I’ve barely sat down at my desk when a man comes striding in. He looks familiar, although I don’t know where I’ve seen him. He’s my height, in his fifties, with a full head of silvery-gray hair, a hatchet nose, and a sparkle in his ice-blue eyes. He strides over to my desk. “Don’t bother to get up. You’re Chief Craddock, I bet.”
“That’s right.”
“I’m Reverend Arlen Becker. It’s a true pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“I’ve heard about you too.”
He throws his head back with a hearty laugh. “I’ll bet you have. Seems like I’ve stirred things up in town.”
“What can I do for you?” I’m impatient to get on with the search for Loretta, and I hope he’s not here to prod me about the rodeo. I’m in no mood. But I’ll bet that’s it.
“Dropped in to say hello. Won’t take but a minute of your time.”
“I was just going to pour myself a cup of coffee. You want a cup?”
“I never drink the stuff myself, but you go ahead.” When I come back with my coffee, he looks like he’s settled in for longer than a few minutes, leaned back in his chair with his fingers laced behind his head and one leg crossed at the knee. All in all, he looks like he owns the place.
“Reverend Becker, I’ve got a situation I’m working on, and I don’t have a lot of time. Did you need something specific?”
“Oh, let’s get acquainted before we get down to business. Tell me a little about yourself.”
“Not much to tell.” I tell him I’ve lived in Jarrett Creek my whole life, married right out of college, and we came back here to settle down. “Jeanne passed away a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. You have kids?”
“We weren’t fortunate enough to have children.” I could tell him that we raised my nephew Tom, but I’d like to shorten the conversation.
“My wife and I have two kids, a boy and a girl. The girl lives in Houston. She’s an architect. And my boy is at UT in Austin, studying to be an engineer, like me.”
I’m interested in spite of my impatience. “What do you mean, like you? You’re a preacher.”
“Now I am, but I was an engineer for almost thirty years. Five years ago, I got the call to minister to a church. I went to seminary and here I am.” That explains why a man his age has been assigned to such a small church. Usually the men who get assigned to the Jarrett Creek First Baptist Church are either young men just starting out or older men ready to call it quits.
“Well, I welcome you. I hope it’s a good place for you.”
“I’m sure it will be. I’ll let the Lord be the judge of whether I’m good for the place.” He chuckles. “Now, on the subject of the rodeo.”
The abrupt change of subject startles me. “Yes?”
“I understand your friend Loretta Singletary spoke to you about my concerns.”
“Yes, she did.”
“She said you weren’t enthusiastic about standing with us on the issue. I’m wondering whether I can be of help in urging you to reconsider.”
“It’s unlikely. As I told Loretta, I figure if the Baptist Church gets to be a co-sponsor, then other churches are going to want in on the action too, which could make a mess. Besides, I’m truly puzzled why you want to get involved in the rodeo anyway. It’s not like it’s a big religious event.”
He lets out that hearty laugh again. “You have me there.” He uncrosses his leg and leans forward. “But I disagree that it isn’t a religious event. Everything in life has potential for us to bear witness. We don’t ever know where the Lord is going to speak to us, and we have to be prepared. I don’t want to say anything against Catholics. I’m sure there are good ones. But the Catholic Church grabs people up with their glitter and ceremonies. Those of us in less showy churches have to be on our guard not to let people be sucked in by all that. Do you know what I mean?”
One thing I know is that he loves the sound of his own voice. “Have you seen the Catholic Church here in town?” Glitter is the last thing it brings to mind. It’s a tiny little structure with one stained glass window.
“I can’t say that I have, but the local church doesn’t have to have a grand building to entice people. People get drawn in by big cathedrals like the Catholics have all over. And Catholics have a lot more leeway in their religious life than we do in the Baptist Church. When they sin, all they have to do is tell the priest, and he fixes them right up. Baptists don’t have the luxury. We have to go directly to God. All this means is that we have to use every opportunity to make sure we don’t lose people to the Catholics way of life. I would not be a proper shepherd of my flock if I didn’t pay attention to their needs.”
“If you say so. But I find that most of the people in this town are pretty good folks, and I’ll let them make their choices.”
“Oh, no, no, no.” He waves his hand in a munificent gesture. “Don’t mistake me. It’s not whether you’re a good person; it’s whether or not you are saved. I hate to put it bluntly, but not everyone who is a good person is going to heaven.”
I hadn’t heard Maria’s car drive up, and I’m surprised and relieved when she steps inside. I get up. “Maria, let me introduce you to the new Baptist preacher, Reverend Becker. Reverend, this is Deputy Trevino.” He rises too and says hello, but he doesn’t offer to shake her hand. And I see a curious thing happen. Becker has dropped his jovial manner and is decidedly cool to Maria. I would say it looks suspiciously like he is affronted by having a woman in the room, and a Hispanic woman at that.
It’s all I can do not to announce to Maria that Reverend Becker was just telling me that, her being a Catholic, she was unlikely to go to heaven. “The Reverend is here on a mission.”
Maria looks puzzled, and Becker looks like he swallowed something unpleasant.
“I was going to run over to the Dairy Queen and get a hamburger,” Maria says. “I didn’t have time for lunch. You want anything?”
“No, you go ahead. But we have things to discuss when you get back.” And I hope she hurries.
“Did you find out something?”
“I did. Don’t be gone long.”
She cuts her eyes at Becker. “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” she says. When she leave
s, I say, “Reverend Becker, I apologize, but I need to put this discussion on hold. You may not be aware, but a member of your congregation, Loretta Singletary, is missing.”
He nods. “I heard that. She’s a busy lady. I imagine she has gone off on a little jaunt and forgot to tell anybody.”
So much for the shepherd tending his flock. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than that, and right now I need to concentrate on finding her. We’ll have to save this rodeo discussion for another time.” I’m still standing to emphasize to him that the meeting is over.
“I think we could . . .”
I interrupt by sticking out my hand. “Thank you for coming by. As soon as Loretta is back home, we’ll talk.”
He tries for one of those sparkly smiles but falls a little short. “Before I leave, there is one thing I promised my wife I’d ask you.”
“What’s that?”
“She heard that you have a nice art collection. In Houston, she practically lived at the art museums, and she said she’d give anything to see your art.”
My wife Jeanne’s mother was a serious collector of contemporary art, and Jeanne got me interested in it. We enjoyed finding new artists, and over the years we put together a nice collection. I’m proud of it, although hardly anyone in a small town appreciates what I’ve got. It would be nice to show it to an art lover.
“Tell her she can call me anytime. I’d be happy to give her a tour.”
CHAPTER 12
While I wait for Maria to get back from the Dairy Queen, I look up names of coffee shops in Bryan. I find one that, as Kathy suggested, sounds “Greek.” Mykonos Café is in the heart of the student district near Texas A&M.
I wonder if Wendy knows the café, and that gives me an excuse to call her to see how she’s getting on with her daughter. “Wait a second,” she says. “Let me . . .”
I hear her footsteps and a sliding door open and close. “Oh, my heavens!” she says. “This girl. She knows every one of my buttons and pushes them pretty much nonstop.” Wendy always says that the two of them are too much alike, and that’s why they frequently quarrel.
