The Disappearing Reverend's Wife

Some people are just fucking nuts. There's no other way to describe how they are other than fucking nuts. I mean, they'll put their trust in anybody who tells them something that's impossible to prove one way or the other and they'll give them money in hopes of getting what that anybody promises them. Not only will they give them money once, they'll keep giving them money and just ignore what that money is obviously being used for.

They're the same people who play the lottery every week. They're not dumb people, and in fact, most are pretty smart. It's just that the idea of getting something big by investing a little is too good to pass up. They also play "find the pea" with the guys on the corner of most large cities, and they're the people who really believe that Nigerian prince really does need their help to get his millions out of Africa.

That's what I was thinking when Reverend Thomas Roper was sitting in the chair across from me that afternoon. I knew him, well, I didn't actually know him, but I knew what he was. He claimed to be a charismatic preacher who was driven to pursue a life of piety and ministering to the faithful because he'd seen God when he survived unscathed after a horrible car accident and God had told him it was his destiny to spread the word. He had his own morning television show on one of the local stations and he was pretty good at all the "hell-fire and damnation if you didn't do unto others" shit.

He'd also been interviewed by one of the local newspapers. I read the reporter's introduction and about half of the interview before I needed a cigarette and a scotch to stop my mind from going nuts too. Reverend Roper had a world-wide flock of believer/donors that numbered about fifteen thousand and his church - The Church of Divine Promise - sat on twenty acres out on the edge of Nashville.

I'd driven by that church several times, and it was pretty impressive. According to the interview, the main part where the congregation sat and listened to Reverend Roper on Sunday mornings would seat four thousand and was usually filled. Attached to the church was the parsonage, but this building wasn't the austere living quarters of a preacher. It had an indoor pool, a television recording studio, and a gourmet kitchen in addition to a living room, formal dining room, and six bedrooms each with it's own bath.

In reality, Reverend Roper was a con man. I knew that because to be a good PI, you have to be a pretty good con man yourself, and as the old saying goes, "it takes one to know one". He was a great con man too. He'd stand in his pulpit every Sunday morning and give people the story that if they donated enough money - he said God needed at least ten percent of your gross income - and prayed enough, all things would come their way. You'd always find a parking place right in front of where you were going and you'd be cured of any ills before you even knew you were sick.

It was an impossible to dispute story. If things didn't go your way, the reason was obviously that you didn't believe enough and probably didn't donate enough. It couldn't possibly be just chance or the fact you'd fucked up somewhere along the line. God had a plan for everybody that would guarantee happiness if you just went along with everything Reverend Roper told you to do.

Now, my parents went to church on Sunday and tried hard to make a believer out of me. It worked until I got old enough to apply logic to what the church taught. For the most part, I believe the Bible is a good guide for getting through life - do unto others and all that - but nowhere in the Bible does it say that certain people have a direct line to God and can tell you what he or she wants you to do.

Anyway, Reverend Roper walked into my office that day, sat down, and smiled a a con man's fake smile.

"Mr. Meers, I have somewhat of a problem and I'm told you're very discrete."

I nodded.

"Yes, whatever your problem is, it will stay between us and only us. What can I help you with?"

He leaned forward as if he was afraid someone else would hear.

"I need you to find my wife and bring her back to me."

Well, I'd done a lot of cases like that. None of them had involved preachers though. I'd seen his wife, Virginia, a couple of times when I flipped past his daily TV show in search of something more interesting, like maybe a shopping show or a re-run of Gilligan's Island. She was always sitting beside him wearing a dress and looking appropriately devoted.

Actually, she looked bored more than anything. Her smile was always there when he said something that was supposed to be a profound revelation, but when you work with a lot of people, you start to look at their eyes more than their mouth because people can't lie with their eyes. Virginia's eyes looked like she was off in another world. Her body was sitting there in her perfect makeup and fluffed up pile of blonde hair, but her mind wasn't.

"How long has she been missing?"

He stroked his chin with his manicured fingers.

"Well, let's see. She was on my show on Monday morning, but on Tuesday she said she wasn't feeling well. She was gone when I finished the show. It was rather embarrassing to have to tell my viewers Virginia was ill so I told them she had gone to Peru to minister to the people there. It's Friday now so I guess it's been...

He counted on his fingers.

"...three days not counting today."

"She hasn't been in contact with you in three days?"

He shook his head.

"No, not even a phone message."

I was frowning by then.

"Maybe you should be talking to the police then."

I swear to God the look on his face was panic.

"Oh, no...no...A man in my position can't do something like that. It would be in the newspapers and on television. If the police found her uh...deceased, that would be fine. I'd get sympathy from my congregation, but if she's just run off...well, a man of the cloth has to have a faithful wife if he's to be trusted."

I had to work at not kicking his ass out of my office right then, but if I let my personal morals dictate what cases I take, I wouldn't eating regularly.

"I'll need some information to do that...and I'll need six hundred up front for the first two days of the investigation. If I haven't found her by then, my fee is three hundred a day."

Reverend Roper nodded.

"The money won't be a problem."

"OK. What I need is a physical description, where she might have gone, who her friends are, things like that, and if you have one, a picture would be a big help."

Of all the information he gave me, the picture was the most help. I couldn't believe Reverend Roper knew so little about his wife. I mean, most men at least know how tall their wife is and they have some guess at how much she weighs. When I asked those questions, Reverend Roper got a blank look on his face.

"I'm not really sure how tall she is. She's not as tall as I am though. How much does she weigh? I'm sorry but I don't know that either. Virginia's a little secretive about things like that."

All he knew for sure was she had naturally blonde hair, but the picture told me otherwise. Virginia's hair was almost white, and most blondes hair is more of a yellow color. Virginia had bleached her hair to make it blonde and since I didn't see a dark line in her part, she must have had her roots touched up every week.

Reverend Roper did give me some names of friends but didn't have phone numbers or addresses for them. He didn't know where she might have gone since none of her friends were that close. They were just church members she saw and talked with every Sunday. The only other information he gave me was that Virginia drove a blue Honda Civic and the license number. He apparently thought he deserved something better because he was driving a black Mercedes sedan with a vanity plate that said "BELEVER".

All in all, I came to the conclusion Virginia was more a prop for his scam than anything else. It wasn't just that he didn't seem to know her very well. It was because he was more worried about what his congregation would think than if something had happened to her. Every time he answered my question, he gave me that same fake smile and not once did he seem very emotional. Now, most men don't really show their emotions, but if my wife had decided to head out for parts unknown, I'd at least be a little worried.

Well, when mine did, I was more relieved than anything, but I thought a preacher would at least be a little concerned. She didn't tell him she was leaving or leave him a note. For all he knew, she could be laying dead in a road ditch someplace. Reverend Roper talked like he was just telling me it was likely to rain tomorrow.

The picture was of her sitting on the couch beside the chair that Reverend Roper was using, and I asked myself the same question I've asked myself at least a thousand times. How in hell did a woman like Virginia end up with an asshole like Reverend Roper? Virginia wasn't a beautiful woman because it looked like someone had troweled about half an inch of makeup on her face and her lipstick was bright red. I've always been more in favor of a more natural look without so much makeup. She was far from being plain though, and her face looked kind even if she did look bored to death. Her dress didn't fit very tight and it wasn't short at all, but it wasn't hard to see she had nice legs and a nice pair of tits.

I put the check he gave me in my desk after I noticed it was a check from Roper Ministries and not from an account for Thomas and Virginia Roper or even an account with only his name. I wondered if his congregation would understand why he was using donated money to track down his wife.

That afternoon, I drove to my bank and deposited the check. Normally, I'd have waited five days to make sure the check cleared, but I didn't for two reasons. I figured the six hundred wasn't even close to what Roper Ministries took in every day so the check would probably clear. I probably would still have waited except I was pretty concerned about Virginia. People don't usually just up and leave without telling somebody where they're going unless they don't have a choice.

That last thing is why I decided to start at the parsonage. If Virginia had told Reverend Roper she didn't feel well and then left in the middle of his TV show, somebody had to see her leave and if she was with anyone else. If she was with somebody, that could be good or it could be really bad. I needed to find that person and I didn't figure Virginia was doing all the cleaning herself for a house as big as the parsonage. She had to have a housekeeper if not two.

Normally, I'd have put together some sort of con to get that housekeeper to tell me what she knew without knowing she was telling me that. It's usually not hard to do because housekeepers see everything that goes on and are often more than willing to tell a guy trying to sell them some new floor mop or window cleaner. I didn't figure I needed to do that this time because the housekeeper would already know Virginia was gone and that Reverend Roper had hired me to find her.

I was prepared for an older woman in working clothes to answer the door. What I got was a stunning redhead who looked too young to be even twenty wearing leggings and a very snug top. I introduced myself and then asked her name. She grinned.

"My name's Misty, Misty Majors. I'm the housekeeper."

The way she batted her eyelashes at me told me Misty liked to flirt. That and the way she was dressed was making me wonder how much of her housekeeping she did in the bedroom. No, I wasn't making a judgment about Reverend Roper, but if Misty walked around the house like that all day...

"Misty, I'm sure you already know, but Mrs. Roper has been gone for a few days and Reverend Roper is worried something might have happened to her. He hired me to find out and that's why I'm here. You didn't happen to see her leave the parsonage on Tuesday or hear her say she was going out, did you?"

Misty smiled and batted her eyelashes again.

"No, Mr. Meers. Tuesday is when I do the shopping so I wasn't here. Mrs. Roper and I don't talk very much anyway. She usually stays in her room unless she's on our TV show. I didn't get back until almost four and she wasn't here then."

"Was Reverend Roper here then?"

Misty shook her head.

"No. Every morning he does our TV show and every afternoon he either visits people in the hospital or he works in his church office on the next morning show or his Sunday sermon. I only see him for lunch and when I go shopping, he goes out for lunch. He said Mrs. Roper has better things to do than fix his lunch."

I was certain she wasn't telling me every thing she knew, and I thought I might know the reason why.

"Misty, you said 'our' TV show. Do you help him with it?"

"Oh no, I just said that because Reverend Roper says his TV show belongs to the whole congregation and all the people who send in their money."

"So you're part of the congregation?"

Misty nodded and smiled.

"Yes, I am, and I have Reverend Roper to thank for that. I was just walking the street with no money and no job and he stopped his car and asked if I needed a ride somewhere. He was such a nice man I told him all my problems and he said he could help me if I'd believe what he told me and go to work as his housekeeper. I have my own bedroom and I get paid and everything. He takes really good care of me. He says God told him I'm special."

Misty seemed really taken by Reverend Roper and I figured he was encouraging her to do so. Usually, it's the woman of the house who directs the household staff, but it sounded like Reverend Roper did the directing of everything. It also sounded like Misty liked the arrangement. I wasn't going to get anything more out of her.

"Well, I'm happy you fixed your troubles. Is there anybody else who might have seen her leave?"

Misty thought for a second, and then frowned.

"Maybe old Willard might have seen her. He takes care of the grass and flowers and he's here every day. I should warn you that Willard isn't a very nice man. He always frowns at me."

"Is he here today?"

Misty nodded.

"On Friday, Willard trims the grass around the church and walks and parking lot so it looks nice for Sunday services."

I drove around to the church parking lot and saw an older guy down on his hands and knees with a pair of grass sheers trimming the grass along the sidewalk. When I walked up to him, he stopped, looked up, and frowned. As soon as he spoke, I knew I was going to like him.

"Church don't open until Sunday morning. What the hell do you want?"

I smiled.

"I'll bet you're Willard. Misty told me you'd be out here."

"Yeah, I'm Willard. What'd that little snip tell you?"

I shrugged.

"Just that you take care of the grass and flowers. I don't think she likes you much though. She said you always frown at her."

He smiled.

"That's 'cause I do. What's she expect when she goes whorin' herself out to that preacher man?"

I laughed then.

"I take it you're not one of the faithful?"

"Oh hell no. I gotta a brain."

"Then why did Reverend Roper hire you to take care of the grounds?"

Willard grinned.

"I underbid everybody else he asked, that's why. Roper's tight-fisted with his money lessen it's something he's buyin' for himself. He don't like me neither, but I work cheap so he puts up with me."

He seemed to be comfortable talking with me, so I decided to get down to why I was there.

"Well, Willard, I suppose you know Mrs. Roper hasn't been around for a while."

He grinned.

"Yep. She finally got up the gumption to leave. Glad she done it too. Been telling her she should for near a year now."

"Oh, why would you tell her something like that?"

Willard frowned.

"'cause I like her. She ain't like Roper. Mrs. Roper's a lady. He's a horse's ass."

'You and Mrs. Roper got along pretty well, then?"

"Yeah. She'd come out when I was plantin' flowers or trimmin' the walks and talk to me. She never said there was any problems 'tween her and Roper, but I could tell she weren't happy, so I asked her 'bout it one day."

He shook his head then.

"Ain't no woman should be treated like that."

"Oh, how did he treat her?"

Willard put down his grass sheers, pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and lit one with an ancient Zippo lighter. He inhaled, then blew out the smoke.

"The way she told it, they met right after he got this church and his mansion built. She was waitin' tables at a restaurant, and he come in and sat down. Said he was real nice to her and tipped her twice what she'd been gettin'. Then he told her he was a preacher and wanted to know if she'd go out with him sometime.

"Well, I guess he was slick as cat shit an' talked her into workin' for him. She weren't but a little over twenty at the time, an' she thought she loved him. It were two months later, when he got his morning TV show he said he wanted her to go blonde and sit with him while he talked to people. He talked her into marryin' him soon's she started doin' that.

"She got her hair bleached like he wanted and started tryin' to help him get the TV show started. 'bout a year later when he gettin' a shit load of money from people was when the problem started big time."

Willard took another drag on his cigarette and then looked up at me and grinned.

"Seems like once he got rich, the old Reverend turned into a horn-dog. She caught him with one of his flock, a girl 'bout twenty. They was fuckin' in one of the spare bedrooms. I guess the bastard told her to leave them alone and he'd talk to her when he got done.

"What he told her was he expected her to keep on being his TV wife an' he'd see to it she didn't want for anything, but he was gonna do what he wanted to do. After that, she moved into another bedroom so's she wouldn't have to sleep with him. From what she said, they hadn't done nothin' in over a year anyway. He'd hired Misty by then and was fuckin' her instead.

"Well, I told her there weren't nothin' that could be as bad as what he were doin' to her and she should leave him. She said she'd told him she was goin' to, but he asked her how she was gonna do that when she didn't have any money. I guess he never give her any real money. He give her prepaid credit cards to buy what she needed - a couple hundred every month for whatever she needed to look like preacher's wife.

Willard laughed then.

"He didn't know how smart Virginia is. She saved them credit cards for six months and never bought nothin'. On Monday, he give her another one for two hundred and she figured that was enough. Tuesday, she got in her car an' drove off. Glad for her sake she finally left."

Well that explained a lot and confirmed what I'd figured out about Misty and Reverend Roper.

"She didn't tell you where she was going, by any chance."

Willard finished his cigarette, stubbed it out in the grass and stuck the butt in his shirt pocket.

"Roper'd have a heart attack if he seen a butt layin' on the ground. Why you want to know where she went?"

After what Willard had told me, I was starting to hope I'd never find Virginia. Still, Reverend Roper had paid me for two days investigation in advance, so I was obligated to try.

"Well, I'm a private investigator and Reverend Roper hired me to find her and bring her back."

Willard grinned.

"Then you can go fuck yerself 'cause I ain't tellin' you shit. She don't wanna come back."

I knew Willard was just trying to help Virginia, but I had to tell Reverend Roper something.

"What if I just talk to her and let her tell me the same thing? I can't really force her to come back, and if she doesn't want him to know where she is, she has every right to do that. There's no law that says a person can't just disappear and start a new life. I mean, she can't get married again unless she divorces him first, but she doesn't have to come back just because he wants her to and he can't make her. He's already paid me so I have to tell him something besides I couldn't find her."