Tutweiler was pulling into a parking slot as we arrived. Actually, Tut’s driver was doing the pulling, the Tutster in the rear seat and barely visible through the smoky windows of the black Yukon. His license tag read KING2. I bet I knew who KING1 had been.
The driver slid out, opened the rear door. Tutweiler scowled when he saw us pull in beside and get out. He looked at the driver.
“Go on along, Desmond. I’ll call the garage if I need anything more.”
Tutweiler turned the chiseled face to Harry and me. Something about the Tutster looked worn, like some event had drained fifty per cent of his air out.
“Yes, Detectives?”
“A few questions, Dean,” I said. “How long have you been with Richard Scaler?”
“We’ve been…” he paused, as if trying to decide something. “We’ve been friends for over twenty years.”
“A prayer breakfast in Jackson. Richard had been preaching a week-long revival. We started talking and I’ve been with him ever since. I started as an advance man, meeting with churches, setting up revivals, making sure we’d have enough seating when Richard came to town. It was an exciting time, doing the Lord’s work out in the fertile fields.”
I stared directly into Tutweiler’s eyes. “We’ve come upon what seems a fertile field in the Reverend’s oeuvre, a recent videotape where he speaks about something wrong with a house he built.”
Tutweiler did bewildered. “Richard and Patricia used the finest builder available for their house over in –”
“No, Brother Tutweiler,” I said. “House as a parable, a metaphor. Brother Scaler speaks of building under false pretenses, of false companions over years. Any idea what he’s referring to? Or who?”
“Richard never knew an enemy, he only knew souls. Richard Scaler saved many souls in his lifetime. Consequently, he had many friends.”
“How much do you make a year, Dean?”
The question jolted him from his reverie. The nose lifted into the air. “That’s my business,” he sniffed. “I run an institute of higher learning and am paid commensurate to my position.”
I figured a half-mil would be about right. With a shitload of perks worth another quarter mil, like the car and driver, paid for by the faithful. Maybe Scaler even cut Tutweiler in on royalties from souls saved.
Tutweiler broke off his pose and looked to Harry. “This video about false friends or whatever – I suspect the recent timing means it was created during Richard’s decline. When he was often distant, distracted. We’ve done much thinking about those days.”
“And what, pray tell, have we thought?” I asked.
“A good preacher speaks in word pictures, creating scenes in the minds of those who listen. But in the past year he sometimes lapsed into speaking of such images as if living them.”
“Like psychotic episodes?”
“Psychotic episodes. Yes, that could well be the answer. He seemed, well, almost delusional,” he said. “That’s the only word I have for it. I blame myself, of course.”
“For his delusions?” Harry said.
“I – we…those who loved him, should have confronted Richard about his problems. He was falling apart and we could have intervened.”
“You didn’t do anything for your good friend,” I said. “Why?”
“Richard had his delusions, we had ours. Our delusion was thinking he’d return to the Richard we knew.”
“Did you know Scaler was beating his wife?”
I expected a What, me? moment. But instead we got closed eyes and a slow-shaking head. “There were times when Patricia was late to a taping; twice she was limping, once the make-up person worked half an hour to cover a bruise on her cheek. She said she’d fallen, bumped into the car door. I didn’t want to believe…” his voice trailed off. “Maybe it was part of Richard’s increasing anger. Or his delusions.”
We said we’d be back with more questions. Tut seemed happy we were leaving. He turned and began striding to the building.
I said, “Excuse me, sir?”
“Yes?” Spoken over his shoulder like he had to keep moving or turn into salt.
“Have you heard anything from Arnold Meltzer lately?”
He froze. Turned. Gave us a full frown with pursed lips.
Said, “Who?”
“Nothing. Just a name.”
Harry got behind the wheel and we pulled away from Kingdom College. Harry shot me a look.
“Indeterminate on the Meltzer ref, maybe he knew it, maybe not. And judging by the age of Scaler in that last video, Tutweiler was with the Rev. for more like thirty years. But what I really found interesting was how the once-immaculate Reverend Scaler seems to have gone from having a few problems to being angry and delusional.”
I nodded. “The man’s not even alive and he’s falling apart.”