“I understand you built this place yourself,” I tell him.
“Never picked up a hammer until I got the calling. Once I did, I couldn’t put it down. Didn’t have much capital, but we made do. A few volunteers lent a hand.…” He shrugs, as if the feat is inconsequential. “Spreading the word of God doesn’t require anything fancy. With your being Amish, I’m sure you probably already know that.”
“I do.”
He motions toward the first pew, and I slide onto the hard surface. “I need to talk to you about Dale Michaels.”
His gaze sharpens on mine as he lowers himself to the bench next to me. His eyes are steel gray beneath heavy brows. He’s got a kindly, grandfather’s face, one that’s full of adventure stories and love for his grandchildren. But there’s something darker behind those eyes, too. Scars, I think, left by a harsh past.
“I heard.” He hangs his head, and his body seems to sag for a moment. “He was a good man. Any idea who did it?”
“Not yet,” I tell him. “How well did you know him?”
“He came to services on occasion.” He chuckles. “Not often enough to suit me, but that’s the way it is sometimes.”
“How long have you known him?”
“We went to high school together. Never knew him well, but I do remember him.”
I purposefully delay asking him about the call and the text, giving him the chance to bring it up first. “When’s the last time you spoke to him?”
“At church probably. A few weeks ago. Just to say hello. See how he was doing. That sort of thing.”
“How did he seem? Did he mention any problems he was having?” I ask. “Or any people he was having problems with?”
“He seemed fine. Upbeat. Warm, as always.”
I nod. “Do you know who his friends were?”
“He usually came to church alone. I’m not sure about his friends.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me, Blue?”
His eyes meet mine. I see something I can’t quite read in their depths, and I suspect he’s just realized I know about the call. “He called me a couple of days ago. Late. I thought that was a little odd.”
“What was the purpose of his call?”
His facial expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t look upset by the fact that he got caught withholding information from me. “Just to talk. I think maybe he was a little lonely. He’s divorced, you know. Children are grown. Not every parent adjusts to those things well.”
“Were you surprised to hear from him?”
He nods. “My first thought was that he was sick. Found out he had cancer or something. I asked him about it, but he assured me his health was fine.”
“Is there some reason why you didn’t bring this to my attention when you found out he’d been murdered?” I ask. “Or maybe when I first arrived?”
“Look, Chief Burkholder, I don’t have anything to hide. There wasn’t anything unusual or suspicious about the call. Dale just wanted someone to talk to.” He sighs again. “We welcome everyone at Crossroads. As you probably know, some members of my congregation have troubled pasts. Honestly, I didn’t want my church involved in this murder investigation.”
“Who was he meeting with that night?”
He stares at me a moment and then shrugs. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I pull out my notes and read the text message to him. “‘Meet is on. Will call 2 let you know outcome.’” I make eye contact with Blue. “Dale Michaels sent you that text shortly before he was murdered. In fact, you’re probably the last person he communicated with before he was killed. I need to know who he was meeting with and I need to know right now.”
“I wish I could help you, Chief. But I don’t even recall receiving that text.” He pulls out a sleek little smartphone and begins to scroll with his index finger. “To tell you the truth, I’m still learning how to use this thing.”
“Mr. Branson, I feel the need to remind you that it’s against the law to withhold information from the police in the course of a murder investigation.”
“I haven’t lied to anyone.” He turns the phone so I can see the screen. Sure enough, there’s a small icon for unread messages with a small 2 next to it. I watch as he thumbs a button and the text from Dale Michaels appears, along with the date and time.
Blue stares at it, grimacing. “As a pastor, it’s disturbing to know he needed me and I wasn’t there for him.”
“The content of that text makes it seem as if you had previous knowledge of the meeting,” I say.
“I can assure you, I didn’t.”