Book Five, Chapter 11: Killer on the Loose

Antoine let Dina out of her cell, and we prepared to start our investigation. The beginning was easy; the murder of Sheriff Thomas Patcher had occurred in the parking lot of the sheriff’s department. That section had been marked off with police tape.

On-Screen.

“There really isn’t anything to investigate,” Antoine said. “Seems like the assailant just came up from behind him and lacerated his throat. We’ve got the local coroner trying to determine if the head was cut off in one go or if it happened after the sheriff bled out.”

There really wasn’t much to see at the crime scene, just a pool of blood. The crime scene photos weren’t much more helpful either. The killer had left the head, which was quite an ugly thing to see, but I couldn’t find any additional clues.

“We canvassed for witnesses,” Antoine said. “One woman claims to have seen a tall man walking in the dark around the time of the murder. That’s all we have so far for the sheriff, at least.”

Off-Screen.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy,” I said.

Antoine nodded. “I’ve been working on this since yesterday. I woke up sitting in my police cruiser outside of this crime scene.”

“Whatever happened to the old sheriff?” I asked.

“They got mad at him after the harvest failed that year. The public sentiment seemed to be that if the search hadn’t gone on so long, people would have been able to get their crops out of the field before the frost. They decided to pin the whole thing on him, kicked him out, and put one of the Patchers in his place.”

We got in our cars and followed Antoine to Tugg Montgomery’s junkyard. We weren’t driving; we had brought a cameraman just like last time. This one’s name was Ted, and just like Nick, Ted didn’t say much.

Everywhere we went, we would do an investigation, and then Kimberly would film a report on it. Sometimes, we would be on screen for it, and other times, we wouldn’t. We didn’t know what to do, so we just tried to stay in character.

At the Montgomery junkyard, the scene was quite a bit more gruesome.

On-Screen.

“Somehow Mr. Montgomery ended up with his hands in this crusher, which held him in place while the attacker removed his head,” Antoine said.

“We’re gonna have to clean that description up when we film the interview,” Kimberly said.

Antoine nodded.

“There are no witnesses per se, but the victim’s wife was at home during the crime.”

“We should talk to her,” Kimberly said.

The junkyard was large and sprawling, and at the front of it was a very poorly kept and modest home. Antoine knocked on the door.

“Sheriff’s department,” he called out.

He seemed to get a kick out of being able to call himself the sheriff, and I was sure that helped him with NPCs. Moments later, a small gray-haired woman came to the door.

“Sheriff, you’re back.”

“Yes, we just have some follow-up questions.”

“What are they doing here?” she asked, looking at me, Kimberly, and Dina.

She kind of had a point.

“I brought in third-party consultants, given that we’re shorthanded. They’re here in an investigative capacity. I’m sure you don’t mind.”

On the red wallpaper, her name was Virginia Montgomery. She was an ordinary NPC, and if I were to read her expression correctly, she absolutely did mind us being there. But she didn’t say anything; she just let us inside, staring at Dina the entire time. We still didn’t have a good explanation for why Dina would be with us, but we just tried not to draw attention to her.

“You can sit here,” Virginia said. “Would you like some lemonade?”

Antoine thought for a moment and said, “No, thank you.”

I couldn’t blame him; the place was not particularly hygienic.

The interview began like normal, with pleasantries, and it proceeded to be woefully unhelpful with Antoine leading things.

“There was nothing out of the ordinary,” Virginia said as she fixed her hair bun for the third time.

Kimberly stepped in.

“Ma’am, it sure would help us figure things out if you could tell us how Tug was acting leading up to his passing.”

“I told you,” Virginia insisted. “There was nothing out of the ordinary.”

Kimberly didn’t respond. None of us did. We just watched and waited for her to continue.

Virginia shook her head. “Maybe Tugg was a little bit excited, but I don’t think it has anything to do with his death.”

“Excited?” Kimberly asked.

“He said that someone was following him the last few days,” Virginia said.

“And you didn’t think that was relevant to his death?” Antoine asked.

“Well, it’s just the person he said was following him couldn’t have been following him,” she said nervously.

“Who?” Kimberly asked.

For a moment, Virginia didn’t say anything.

“Virginia, whoever it was, we need to know.”

“He said Benny Harless was following him,” Virginia said. “He said he was being followed by Benny Harless’ ghost.”

We looked at each other.

Kimberly looked back at her and asked, “And why exactly would Benny Harless’ ghost be haunting Tugg Montgomery?”

Virginia realized she had messed up. She sputtered out a few words and said, “No reason. It’s just, I don’t know, maybe he ripped him off on a few deals they made… there was nothing out of line.”

We continued talking to her. As far as NPC interviews go, we had her on the ropes, but it seemed we had exhausted her of information about Tug’s death. She didn’t know what Tug had meant by being followed. She didn’t know much of anything.

There was a lull in the conversation, and in that lull, I noticed something on the far wall.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” I said. “Why do you have one of those shrines that the Patchers always have?”

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Virginia looked back at the shrine, which showed Aurelius and Mavis Patcher. A candle was lit underneath.

“Well, Tugg was a Patcher,” Virginia said. “His mother was, at least. Tug always loved being a part of the Patcher family, even if he wasn’t part of the main line. Tug always valued family.”

That made sense. How many other Patchers were there in town?

“Family is where you find purpose,” I said, echoing the phrase that was written on the shrine.

“Exactly,” she said. “That’s exactly right. Now, if you don’t have any more questions, I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Outside, we remained on screen.

“It’s the Patchers. It’s always the Patchers,” Dina said. “I told you they were involved. The only question is how was the death of Benny Harless related to my daughter’s disappearance.”

“Well, he was one of the last people to see her alive. Maybe he remembered something,” I said.

“He could have called something into the sheriff’s office, and maybe Tommy Patcher was the one to get the call,” Antoine suggested.

“So, what’s next?” Dina asked.

“We need to go see Margaret Petty,” I said.

“Who’s Margaret Petty?” Antoine asked.

Margaret Petty was the woman with answers.

“Evening, Sheriff,” Margaret said as she answered the door of her mobile home, confused. “How can I help you?”

While she didn’t like the idea of being woken up late at night, she did have a kind tone to her voice.

Antoine looked back at me and then at her and said, “Ma’am, we’re here to ask you a few questions about your Comstock Foray. You left that car in the care of Benny Harless, didn’t you?”

Margaret, a larger woman with curled hair, turned her head and asked, “You woke me up to ask me about my stolen car from 1966?”

Antoine paused and then sheepishly said, “We just have a few questions.”

“I thought your people said that the case was closed, that the car had been stolen and sold for parts. Why are you asking me about this all these years later?”