by J. Valentine
The gates were open at the club, Olivia could see many people parked outside the large recreation center. They parked horribly. Definitely an older crowd was in today.
***
“Membership?” The reception girl at the front desk asked her.
“Not a member. I was just looking to maybe talk with someone about a person who used to work here,” Olivia told the girl.
“Rick Miller?”
“That’s right. I guess I’m not the first,” Olivia guessed.
“A few detectives have come through asking questions. I should get my manager.”
She paged him over the intercom.
Olivia didn’t recognize him. Maybe a newcomer to the town, or a son of one of the rich members that she hadn’t known. He dressed nicely. A dark grey suit with black pants and loafers. His hair was dark, and ridiculous. Too much gel, almost like a character from a 90’s sitcom.
“Olivia Guilbault! My mom is quite a fan of yours,” he started.
Definitely the son of one of the rich club members, Olivia’s suspicions proved accurate. “Well that’s great to hear, I always love a fan. That means maybe you’ll be more willing to talk with me?”
“I’ll tell you all the same stuff I told the cops. I assume you're here to talk about Richard Miller?”
“That’s right,” she nodded.
“Come to my office? This kind of thing is better discussed in private,” he asked her.
“I couldn’t agree more myself.”
He walked her to the office. The peering eyes of the curlers caught her attention. They all knew why she was here. Some supported her, some criticized her in that damned concerned citizens page she liked to follow so much. People in town had definitely been talking about her, and her work.
“My name’s Dave, by the way, it’s nice to meet you in person. Maybe after we talk I can get a picture with you?”
Olivia laughed at his forwardness.
“My mom would love it,” he added.
“It’s nice to meet you as well Dave, and of course we can take a picture together.”
“Maybe we can hang it up in the front of the club?”
“Whatever you want Dave,” she smiled. He was a bit dorky like that 90’s sitcom character.
They got to his, somewhat, depressing office. It was cramped, and had papers scattered everywhere. The corkboard was also overstuffed with various documents, some that surely were confidential and not for Olivia’s eyes. Call sheets, schedules, phone numbers, club member information. Small town things, she thought. They sat a little too close together, her chair scrunched up towards the small desk, and him leaning over the other side, staring at her.
“You know you’re actually the reason my parents got divorced,” he said, intenself.
Olivia leaned back, trying to create more distance between the two. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
Dave got excited, “No no, it’s not a bad thing. My dad was a cheating a**hole, I’m glad your dad James caught him. I saw the pictures myself. My mom got every penny she deserved.”
Olivia tended not to like mama’s boys too often. They were always a bit weird. She began to get a bit suspicious of him, thinking about what weird kink or fetish he might have. “I’m glad he could help out your family,” she said, politely. Olivia was beginning to have enough of the small talk, she wanted answers. “So Richard Miller.”
“Yeah that guy. Definitely unstable.”
“Why do you say that?” Olivia pried further.
“Well it started off innocent enough. He was really into bigfoot. It was all he would talk about for a while. This was a few years back. Then it was all about ancient aliens for a bit. Then… flat earth. Hash tag, space is fake,” he laughed.
“Oh yeah, I’ve met a few of those.”
He continued, “Oh it gets better. He got deep into Q conspiracy theories.”
“Like… from Star Trek?”
“No. Unfortunately not. Like… there are secret members in the government who give out secret information about the deep state, and what all is really going on, through 4chan and other image forum websites. He’d always go on about the Clinton kill count, and other nonsense as well.”
Olivia had looked into some of that Clinton stuff herself. There were a lot of coincidences, but something like that would be too heavy for her to investigate, and potentially dangerous. She’d seen Eyes Wide Shut, and heard about wild elite billionaire sex islands, and she wanted to stay far away.
“Yeah, I think I have heard something about that before. So why fire the guy, he sounds like he was a bit weird, but far from dangerous.”
“Definitely. He was a bit of a nuisance in the workplace. He’d make some of the girls uncomfortable too. Then Maryam complained about him, and I had to take action. It was a long time coming,” he explained.
“What was her complaint?”
“He was driving the bev cart one day. Usually only girls do that because of the great tips from the older golfers. A couple called in sick, I think they were actually faking to go party,” he nodded, sure of himself, “apparently when he pulled up to Barry and Maryam, as he was leaving he mumbled that she was a tranny b*tch.”
“Barry and Maryam were golfing together?”
“Oh yeah she was a great golfer, and would teach Barry the basics. He got a lot better over last season as well. I hope he comes back. The Cartwright family have had members here since the club opened. I’m sure it would be difficult for him, if he wanted to come back.”
“Yeah I understand,” Olivia paused to think for a moment, surprised that Barry never mentioned the golfing, or the Richard Miller situation, considering she was a witness. She continued, “but do you think Miller was capable of murder?”
“Like you say, anyone is capable of murder in the right circumstances.”
She smiled at him, “that’s right.”
The dorky Dave was happy to take the picture Olivia had promised him. He told her again how excited he was to show his mother, and hang it in the entry where all the members could see. She was slightly embarrassed, but this wasn’t her first strange fan. Before leaving the club she got Richard Miller’s phone number and address from Dave. It was fairly unprofessional for him to give it out, but Olivia was happy nonetheless. Another step closer towards solving this horrible crime.
Chapter 13
“In case anything happens to me, I’m going to 1433 3rd side road. I have to talk with Richard Miller.”
She sent the text message to detective Brad Wilson. Just in case anything happened as she entered the belly of the beast. On the drive over she considered different approaches to dealing with the unstable man. She wasn’t sure what she was getting into, but she wanted to be prepared. The country club manager had shown her a picture of him. Thin framed glasses, and a clean shaven face, short hair like he buzzed it himself, acne on his face, and apparently a bit short at 5’7”, the same height as Olivia.
She followed the tree line on the side road outside of Red Arch, south towards the Trans Canada Highway, a highway stretching across the entire length of the country. He lived off the grid apparently, and liked to keep to himself.
Olivia thought back to reading Industrial Society and its Future, more commonly known as The Unabomber Manifesto. She agreed with a lot of the principles of the book, but thought how insane it was to think mailing bombs to people was the answer. Sometimes she fantasized about being the detective who got the call from his brother, ratting him out. She was certain that Richard Miller would know all about Ted Kaczynski, and what the CIA did to him, with their mind control MK ultra experiments. A conspiracy that sounded so insane, but was proven true by brave journalists exposing the US government.
“Be safe Olivia,” Brad responded. It felt wrong checking her cell phone while driving, and having the text be from a cop. Few people were around, so Olivia justified the quick glance in her head. What's the worst that can happen, she thought to herself.
Shortly thereafter she ar
rived at the side road trailer. The roof of the single wide was covered in solar panels, and he had affixed a miniature wind turbine on the property as well. Warning signs citing charter rights about “search and seizure” greeted her as she drove the length of the poorly plowed driveway. The snow packed down as if he just drove over it again and again. Her tires slipped at first, but with a bit of heaving and hoeing, she got through.
Richard Miller seemed to take good care of the trailer though, the panelling was fresh, and it’s small roof looked freshly shingled. Olivia wondered to herself if he did the work himself. The truck he drove was ridiculous. Lifted, so the axel and transfer case allowing four wheel drive was clearly visible. Black paint, and tinted windows that caused brash cops to pull him over too much, and the back covered in corny stickers. Infowars, F*CK TRUDEAU, prison planet, Qanon, among others plastered the back window, and rear bumper. Olivia was slightly surprised that the strange paranoid man hadn’t converted the truck fully into a bug out vehicle, in preparation for the impending apocalypse that Richard Miller was likely sure was coming soon.
***
Olivia heard the buzzing of his security camera adjusting above her, as she knocked on the door. She looked and waved to it.
“Are you police?” The intercom said, “If so you do not have my consent for anything, and I urge you to leave my property immediately, unless you have a warrant.”
“I’m not police, Mr. Miller.”
He paused for a moment, “Olivia Guilbault?”
“That’s me,” she gave the camera thumbs up.
*BZZZ* The door unlocked.
Olivia assumed that that meant it was okay for her to enter. She heard shuffling to her right. She looked down that hallway of the trailer and saw him closing tabs on his computer before standing up. His living conditions weren’t the best. Likely a borderline hoarder, paper strewn across the floor, tables, and pinned up on the walls. Stacks of magazines, and news papers, and probably six different old computers that she could see in her line of sight from the door. Who knew how many more there likely were throughout the trailer.
He stood up from his desk and walked towards her. He didn’t look as much like his picture as she had thought. His hair had grown out to a… fairly attractive dark shag that suited him quite nicely. His facial features had sharpened, as it seemed he had lost weight since being ostracized from the country club. He even had new, thicker framed Clark Kent like glasses on his face.
“Yes?” he began. The voice wasn't deep, but wasn’t high either. A little raspy, but masculine at the same time. Almost like a permanent ‘morning voice’ that some men had when they first woke up. Olivia was reminded of her ex, Jacob.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright, are you aware of my work?”
“I am aware of your work. In fact, I respect it. You actually care about the legal rights of the accused. The police in this town don’t even know my charter rights,” he told her.
“Well thanks, I appreciate the compliment. May I ask you a few questions?” She asked again.
“I’m not comfortable answering questions from the police. Their job is to charge people with crimes, not find the true criminals. That’s why I don’t talk to them.”
“Yes, I understand that. A detective told me that they ended up letting you go after you refused to answer their questions. You’re a lawyer's dream. Too many people accidentally admit to crimes, or think they’re smart enough to ‘talk their way out of this misunderstanding,’” she gave finger quotes.
“I agree one hundred percent, thank you for the compliment,” he emphasized the one hundred percent and stepped closer to Olivia. She felt slightly nervous.
“Would you be comfortable answering a few questions from me?” She repeated herself once again.
“I’ll tell you what I didn’t tell the police. I never called that dead b*tch a tranny. I saw Barry and her making out on the golf course, and they got nervous that I’d rat on them. They clearly didn’t know me that well, because I’d never tell anyone anything. I hated her for getting me fired, but then I started writing articles online, and making videos on youtube. I make more money now, and am much better off since leaving those sheep at the country club. Any other questions?”
“I think that about covers it,” Olivia told him.
“You should investigate more politicians after you solve this case. They’re a lot darker than regular citizens. You’d be shocked at the stuff they get up to, check out my youtube videos. Look up Qanon Rick Miller, you’ll find it,” he begged her.
“I just might do that,” Olivia told him. I definitely won't, she thought to herself. “Thanks for your time Mr. Miller.”
Chapter 14
“Done at Richard Miller’s. Interesting guy to say the least. This case just keeps getting crazier and crazier,” she texted Detective Brad Wilson.
Everyone seems to be lying. Barry is coked up, spending his inheritance like crazy, and it’s all starting to make more sense. An affair with Maryam. I have strong suspicions that he is a sex addict. Meanwhile Anna and Layla lied about living in such a happy accepting home. Routinely beaten by Maryam? A home of domestic violence, psychotropic medications, and possible alcoholism. Layla seems to be the real victim in all of this. Falls in love with Barry, he cheats on her with another girl, and ends up having an affair with her father who transitioned to female? God, what this poor girl must be going through.
She saved the entry for after the case. Olivia thought to herself how this will likely be one of her most successful memoirs. If, and that’s a big if, she can solve this case. Plenty had gone cold on her in the past, but her success rate was definitely higher than the police’s. She’d planned on going back and looking at some old ones, but it was too difficult when there were so many new and interesting cases arriving on her doorstep.
“You got him to talk?” Brad replied.
“Rant, might be a better description of what he did, but yes, I got the information I wanted. We’re one step closer to it all making sense,” she texted.
“Want to meet up and go over everything?” He asked her.
“Meet at my place in an hour?”
“Deal.”
Olivia drove back to her brother’s house / their familial home where she grew up. She was excited to see Brad again, but careful not to drive too quickly on the roads that were quickly becoming more and more snow covered and treacherous. The snowfall would likely come tonight, she pondered, happy that she may be able to spend more time with Brad. Who knew, maybe they’d end up spending the night together. Her school girl fantasies, coming true, sharing a bed, and making love with the man of her teenage dreams. She longed for him, and felt butterflies deep in her stomach.
His cruiser was already waiting. She thought back to being pulled over by the unmarked vehicle when she first arrived back in Red Arch, and how happy she was to see him again. She hoped Max would be alright with him being at the house. He would probably be too busy with Stephanie. Olivia was very happy for her brother, and how well his relationship with the barmaid was progressing.
Brad stepped outside the car, and watched Olivia pull up. Crap, he’s going to see me have to climb out over the passenger seat, she quickly realized. He was wearing the same clothes as this morning. That beautiful long jacket, touching his mid thigh, keeping him warm in the cold frosty Red Arch air. He had the collar turned up, like in a Sherlock Holmes illustration or movie.
She began her climb over the middle console of Grace, the old Honda Civic. They made eye contact, she smiled at him, and he gave a confused look that quickly turned to laughter.
“Where’d you even get this thing, I thought you took a train into town? What happened to that Subaru you were driving?” He asked her, doing his best to conceal his laughter, and save her from the embarrassment.
“That’s my brother’s Subaru. He offered to let me drive it when I was here, but I knew he’d want to drive the new SUV. The Civic is fine for me. It’s
only temporary,” she explained.
“Why did he wait so long to upgrade? How many kilometers are on that thing, three hundred thousand?” He laughed.
“Three hundred twenty five, actually, good guess.”
“Doesn’t take a detective to see that it’s on its last legs.”
“Hey, us Guilbaults save a lot of money by driving cars into the ground. Our dad taught us right,” she quipped back at him.
“Smart man, I can’t lie. I’m freezing, want to get inside?”
“Yessir.”
***
They stepped inside. Max was out, running errands as his SUV wasn’t in the long driveway, that was quickly being covered in a blanket of snow. Alvi greeted them at the door, seeming uneasy at first at the sight of the new person. Brad put out his hand, and let the dog give him a good smell, before petting the lab’s head.
“Good boy Alvi, you gotta go outside?” She asked the pup, who excitedly began jumping.
She let him outside, and watched him run, forgetting to go pee after seeing a squirrel run up a tree.
“That squirrel is going to keep him occupied for a few minutes,” she laughed.
“My rottie catches a few too every year.”
“Aww you have a rottweiler?” She asked.
“Yeah, creatively named Rottie,” he laughed.
“Alvi catches probably one a week. A well earned treat, and pretty good for their diet, I’ve heard. They are hunter’s afterall, evolved from the wolf.”
“Evolved with our help that is, sometimes I fantasize about our early ancestors, coaxing them closer to the fire, trading the scraps for the protection they offered,” he explained,
“Beautiful creatures.”
Many people in the northern communities felt an attachment to wolves. Their packs roam around, keeping deer and moose populations healthy for the hunters each season. Most people in the north had a deeper understanding of wildlife and their conservation. People closer to cities just didn’t seem to understand the environment they live in, and what’s necessary to keep the habitat moving forward.