I made us two travel mugs of hot, steamy black coffee and was waiting for Barb on my porch about twelve hours later. We took off immediately.
“This is one of my favorite times of the day,” Barb said, clicking on the cart’s headlights.
“Every time is your favorite time of the day!” I laughed.
“Not exactly. I don’t love property check out and flipping time. All these two- and three-night turnovers are wearing me out. I guess it is a nice problem to have, but it’s exhausting! But, you’re right. I do love every good day on Mongin Island.”
With that, we were off the paved road, heading down the twists and turns of the dirt paths loosely defined as roads. The golf cart bumped over holes and rough patches, making drinking our coffees impossible. The cart groaned and squeaked as we went deeper off-road, running over roots that grew under the paths. There were no street signs, no landmarks. I was relieved I had not tried to find this on my own. Barb expertly maneuvered her way.
“What is this place, Barb? What is Governor’s Point?” I realized I had heard of it, but in all my visits, we had never explored it. “It’s what, a mile from the ferry? But it feels like we are in the middle of nowhere, a thousand miles from anywhere!”
“It was supposed to be an up-and-coming development. Must be about ten lots or so, with a pool and a little clubhouse. You know, one of those exclusive, small ‘waterfront’ neighborhoods. They built the pool and sold some of the lots years ago and then everything stopped. There are lots of guesses about what happened—but I don’t know that anyone actually has the whole story. No houses were ever built. The pool and the clubhouse are all that’s there. A lot of the site is overgrown. You can’t even see property lines anymore. Nature has taken over. But there is a dock that takes you right down to an incredible marsh view and you can see the Mongin River. We are on the other side of the island now, away from the beach and ocean. You’re right though, we still are only a mile away from the ferry landing, even less from Books & Brew. I like to sit out there on that dock to get away from the crowds sometimes. It’s like my own secret hideaway.”
She finished as we parked in a spot right in front of the pool.
Her description was perfect. This place was like an afterthought, an idea in which people had lost interest. Development had stalled, like the required effort was just too much work, leaving a sad, neglected plot of land with a sun-bleached sign announcing: “Welcome to Governor’s Point” with a phone number for real estate inquiries.
“So, does the developer still own most of these lots?” I asked Barb.
“I assume so, yes, but I’m not really sure. Like I said, I think a few were sold but which ones and who bought them, well, I don’t know. I know Coastal Carl was the agent years ago but I didn’t really keep up with it all,” she said as we finally took our first good sip of coffee and I got my camera ready.
“Coastal Carl,” I said. “Now that I met Carl, it’s hard for me to think of him being called that. Seems so kitschy, so unlike him.”
She laughed, “I agree. It’s just one of those ideas that seems like a good one when you’re younger I guess and well, some things just stick. Seeing him day in and day out, having so many people call him that so many times, I can’t imagine not calling him that. He has done very well selling properties that are not part of the resort. Many people have been on at least one side of a deal with Coastal Carl!”
I shook my head, “Will I ever know all these mysteries of Mongin Island?”
“Honestly, probably not. We are an interesting bunch!” Barb said. “Let’s get your shot.” She showed me the way to the marsh dock. What an amazing site it was!
You could see sparkling water in every direction from the edge of the dock. It was so peaceful, sitting with our legs over the side, listening to the faraway calls of the birds and the constant lapping of the water on the dock pylons. The sky started to turn pink. It looked like someone had painted the sky with a pastel brush. It was breathtaking and another of these mysterious, hidden spots on Mongin Island that made you feel like it belonged just to you.
“I can see why this is your special spot,” I whispered, trying hard not to ruin this moment. “People would kill for a view like this.” I quickly took a bunch of shots. Tripp was going to have a tough time picking just one for the Trading Floor. It didn’t seem like you could get a bad picture here—about as close to perfection as you could imagine.
Barb nodded. “I never get tired of this view. I hope these lots are never developed. If they were, I’m not sure a homeowner would appreciate us strolling around back here.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad.
“It looks pretty forgotten, maybe we will stay lucky,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “Unfortunately, I have to get back to the store. Tripp is picking up the rockers from the barge and I want to be at the store to help him unload. Would love to come back here with you—that’s for sure.”
We gathered our cups, put our shoes back on, and started down the dock. Barb’s flip-flops snapped in a quick tempo.
“What a great way to start the day, thanks Barb,” I said as we got to the cart. “It really is a shame, this property could be out of this world, especially given the small size of this neighborhood.” I looked over at the pool and noticed an unlatched gate in the protective fence surrounding it. “Hold on Barb, let me latch this. I would hate for something to happen if any of the kids got back here. I will feel better if it is at least somewhat secure, not that this gate actually does much—but—” I said over my shoulder.
The pool did not look inviting at all. Filled with still green water, algae, and overgrown plants, it was hard to even imagine this being what was advertised on the sign posted only a few feet away. The pool deck bubbled in places where tree roots were pushing up from beneath the ground. I pulled the rusty gate forward to the post and something caught my eye. Was that a shoe on the cement, near the pool steps? I looked again and saw something dark beneath the water’s surface. Looking back at Barb, I called: “Just a minute, Barb! Something is in here!”
“What? What did you say?” When I didn’t answer, she came to the fence.
“Barb!” I yelled, “Barb, come quick, I think someone is in here. I think someone is at the bottom of the pool!” I was screaming as my eyes focused. With my heart pounding in my ears, I could not hear her response. “Call the police!” we yelled to each other at the same time, but she beat me to actually doing it. She dialed as I stood looking from her to the pool. I was frantically searching for something I could use to reach this person—some kind of pool equipment, a pole, a large branch, anything. We were in the middle of nowhere with a body in this abandoned pool.
“Dispatcher said they will come soon.” Barb tried to sound reassuring. Before I could answer, I heard her talking to someone else, giving me a concerned look. She shook her head from side to side. She spoke into her phone: “Yes, in the pool. At the bottom of the pool.” She paused, then seemed to be answering a question. “I don’t know, I mean, maybe. Okay, we won’t.”
As she hung up, she told me she called the island firehouse directly to speed up the response because the central emergency dispatcher is on the mainland. “At the firehouse, Sarabeth told me she’ll get someone out here, soon, Carr. But she made it clear that we should step back. She said, ‘Do not go into that water.’ Sarabeth said there were all kinds of things dumped in there over the years. I guess people tried to manage the pool on their own for a while, then abandoned it. No one knows what’s in there.”
I understood. I was glued to this spot.
Mongin Island has no full-time police force, so the first responders were the firemen who came through the woods in both the ladder truck and their Suburban. In a matter of minutes, Governor’s Point was bursting with activity. Because the fire staff are also paramedics, they rolled in with stretchers, crash kits, and bags filled with devices, equipment, and medicine. Another team, in dive suits, was quickly in the water, hoping this was a rescue.
All too soon, it was obvious this was a recovery.
“Hold up! Hold up!” Chief Lancaster’s booming voice stopped everyone in their tracks. “Someone from the sheriff’s department will be here soon. Let’s not touch anything else.”
“Charlie!” he yelled to the young cadet standing near the truck, “You’re in charge of keeping everyone else out of this area. Grab some cones and block the road up there.” He nodded in the general direction of the path we had traveled. Charlie scuttled off, looking relieved to be doing something.
Chief Lancaster called to us: “Ladies, please wait by your golf cart for the sheriff’s department. They will be here soon. They will want to talk to you, I’m sure of it.”
“Aren’t they coming all the way from the mainland?” I asked Barb.
Andrew, who had been on the ladder truck and overheard me, explained that an officer usually came to Mongin Island on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. Someone already had been en route when our call came in, so they should be on the island and at Governor’s Point any minute.
“What usually happens in cases like this?” I whispered to Barb. I wanted her to tell me what to do, what to expect. I wanted someone to be in control and I wanted that someone to not be me.
“Cases like this? What are you talking about? We don’t have cases like this! Someone is dead, Carr. I mean, it’s not like he just fell into the pool on his afternoon stroll. Who knows how long he has been in there? I mean—this doesn’t happen here. This can’t be happening!” Barb’s voice had risen until she was shouting. Her hands were shaking and her eyes were wide.
“I’m sorry,” we said at the same time. I hugged her.
“I’m going to take some pictures,” I decided. “I’m going to take some shots of the ground, the shrubs around the pool, I don’t know, I am just going to see what might be helpful. I have to do something.” I walked away and started taking a few pictures, not really knowing what I was looking for. Barb was staring at the chaotic scene in play in front of us. Even the professionals did not know exactly what to do next, but I was careful to stay out of their way. We were all in uncharted territory.
When a sheriff’s Jeep came rolling along the dirt road, I was flooded with relief. There was a part of me that felt somehow an officer would pop out of the car with all the answers. They would glance around, tell us what unfortunate accident had befallen whoever was in the pool and everything would make sense. We would be able to go back to our easy-going, peaceful life, with the only challenge facing us being the upcoming influx of seasonal visitors and travelers. I wanted all that to happen, even though it was hardly realistic.
So, when Deputy Julie climbed out of the Jeep, Chief Lancaster was immediately at her side.
“Deputy,” the Chief greeted her. “Ma’am, we have a situation you need to see,” he said as they walked quickly to the pool. There was no time for small talk. The air seemed to be getting heavier with humidity and the reality of what had likely unfolded here.
We waited for Deputy Julie to approach us.
“Ladies, thank you for your patience and for calling us for help,” Deputy Julie said. “I am here to help. We are going to figure out what happened. So, to help you, I need you to help me, okay?” Julie’s tight curls spilled way past her shoulders.
“Of course, yes. What can we do?” I asked. “I mean we didn’t really see anything. We were just walking to our cart.” Julie’s eyes, heavily lined in teal, and her bright lipstick, were riveting to me. Her makeup was so distracting it forced me to block out everything else that was happening to focus solely on Julie.
“Tell me about it,” she encouraged. “Tell me everything you remember.”
Barb and I began with our arrival here to take some photos—and ended with seeing the shadow in the pool. Deputy Julie listened to our story and wrote a few notes in her book as we spoke, looking up at us as she encouraged us to continue. I told her about the pictures I took while the first responders were examining the scene. I offered to send them to her, which she appreciated. She handed us her card and sent us on our way, reminding us to call her if we remembered any other details.
“I have to know,” I called out to her, “Deputy, I have to know before I go. Had this person already passed? I mean, there wasn’t anything we could have or should have done? I feel like I should have done more than just stand here and wait. Should I have jumped into that water? I just, I just wasn’t—I don’t know—I guess prepared? I just wasn’t prepared for this—I don’t know what I am trying to say—I guess, was there anything I could have done to help this person?” My words were tumbling out faster than I intended.
“No, absolutely not. You both did all the right things. People handle situations like this in all different ways and not always in ways you see on television, being some hero. Your reaction was what most people do as they try to make sense of what they are seeing. In this case, it is best you didn’t enter that water unprotected. Unfortunately, our victim has likely been in there for at least a day, maybe more. We will know more soon. Go home, get some rest and let us know if something, anything, else comes to you.” With that, she was off in the direction of the rescue crew, her hair extending like a small cape behind her.
We walked like zombies to our cart and somehow climbed in. Everything was happening in some kind of altered state. Before we knew it, we headed back down the dirt road in stunned silence. Although we didn’t know it yet, we were part of a Mongin Island murder.