We walked together to Carl’s house and were quickly inside. I noticed some of the paperwork that previously was on the table was missing, but overall things looked about the same.
Missy seemed to have her own list of concerns. “I want to ask Julie what I should do with the food in the refrigerator and the perishable things. I think we are good for another week or so, but I want to get rid of stuff before it starts rotting.”
I walked into Carl’s office. “What is the story with the map in here?”
“It’s Mongin Island.”
“Yes, but what are these pins?” The map was huge. It hung above several barrister bookshelves that lined the short wall of this office and was almost as wide as it was long. Many pins were stuck in all different locations on the map. There were a variety of red and blue pins, but only one green one. “These pins must mean something. Do you know what is going on here?”
“I don’t, sorry,” she said. “I know Carl sometimes stood right here and stared at the map, and one time he told me that this was his ‘legacy’, but I assumed he meant Mongin Island in general. You know he has—or had made many people’s dreams come true through the deals he made. And Carl loved the stories of how people found their dream home—or now had money they never had before. Carl loved a good story.”
“It’s probably what made him so good at sales. He could find the human part of the transaction,” I replied, though I was distracted. “Wait, see this green pin? Isn’t this Governor’s Point?” I was too short to see that portion of the map clearly, so I carried over Carl’s desk chair and stood on it to get an eye-level view. “Bingo! Yes, it is!”
“So, I wonder,” I started thinking out loud. “I wonder if this is some kind of sales tracker? It’s going to be hard to say because this is just a map. There aren’t property lines, but I bet we can test a few of these with some landmarks. Okay Missy, can you jot down a few things? Look, there is a red pin next to the community farm on the right side, still on Old Port Passage Way. And there is a blue one next to the school on the left side, closest to the water. Here is another red one on Church Street, right across the street from the church.”
Missy was writing. “Wait, the one across from the church—wasn’t that where Mr. Marshall lived? Carl sold his house to the new family with the twin girls. I can’t remember their names.”
“Yes, that’s right! The Lane family. I met them at the general store when I first moved here and saw them again at Books & Brew last week. The girls are as sweet as gumdrops and so cute! Just learning to read! So, Carl was the agent for Mr. Marshall?”
“Definitely. The house needed some work and there were some negotiations, things the Lanes were asking for but if I remember right, Mr. Marshall’s son did not want to do. Eventually, it all got worked out and Carl told me Mr. Marshall was happy there would be a young family in his house. Carl definitely sold that property.”
“So, let’s say the red pins are for properties Carl sold, but the blue ones are what? Current listings or leads? I need Carl’s listing report,” I said. “But then, what does the green pin mean?” We found a couple of more properties to test our theory and I hopped down from the chair. I told Missy I would review everything and be back in touch soon. She promised to reach out if she thought of anything else that would help.
“Before I go, one more question: Do you know Evan Weisman?”
“The sustainability guy? No, I don’t know him, but I know of him. Well, not even really that, I just know Carl mentioned him to someone, once on a call. That’s all I know.” I found myself trying to determine if this really was all she knew. I came to see Missy to get answers but was leaving with more questions.
“Please let me know if you think of anything else,” I said as I got into my cart. “Thanks, Missy.”
I decided to visit one or two of these landmarks from the map. At each stop, I could not spot any obvious signs of sales activity. No real estate signs, no lockboxes. I identified and wrote down a few potential addresses based on the nearby streets. Surely, the public database of property records would show me which ones had recently been sold. I also assumed that files stored on Carl’s computer would help me understand his map a little better.
After that, I gave Tripp a call and offered to pick up lunch. “That would be amazing Carr, you won’t believe how busy we have been. This is our best sales day yet!”
I swung by the Dirt Road Diner and picked up two cheeseburgers with jalapeno poppers. This food truck was open for breakfast and lunch only, tucked off the side of Old Port Passage Way. There were a few tables and a dozen or so white resin chairs scattered around. It was an island staple. You could smell the burgers from down the road. I pulled in right before they closed and the ladies quickly cooked up our order. Before long, I was on my way back to the store and unpacking our lunch.
“Look at this! Buddy, come here!” I showed him the dog cookies the ladies had surprised me with at the bottom of our lunch bag. I guess everyone knew I had informally adopted Buddy.
“Dirt Road Diner, yum! Thanks, Carr,” Tripp said, smiling broadly.
“Tripp, it’s me who should thank you. You have done so much for the store and me. I really appreciate all you do. This is such a small little thing, but I want you to know how grateful I am for you and your hard work.”
“Gosh, Carr, you’re going to make me blush,” he laughed. “I enjoy being here and I am happy to help you and our customers. It’s all good, Carr, but thank you for saying it.” We were all quickly busy with our meal, including Buddy, who was munching on his cookies, lying on my feet underneath the table.
“I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” I told Tripp, looking down at my half-eaten burger. “I had a busy morning and afternoon so far, but it sounds like you were busy, too. Look, Tripp, I want to fill you in on what I have learned so far about Carl’s case, but I also don’t want to put you in the position of people asking you for information.”
“Honestly Carr, I don’t really want to know. I just want to know when it’s over. If Deputy Julie or you or anyone needs my help, I will help you, but I would rather not know all the details. I knew Carl for years, but not well. We weren’t friends exactly, but I knew him well enough to talk to him at the Crab Shack or the Distillery. It may sound silly, but I would rather not know all the skeletons. You know I had a lot of struggles in my life. My life before my wife, Eloise, well, was pretty unhappy, and you know to lose her and Michelle Lynn right after, well, these were such hard, hard things. I loved teaching, but the last few years were tough, too. I came to Mongin Island to get away from the hard things. Some people call it an escape, and I guess it is.”
“Maybe that’s why we get each other, Tripp. I am escaping, too. This island can heal heavy hearts,” I said. “I understand what you’re saying, and I respect it completely. I will not make you part of this. I promise, we will get our island back, too, the way Mongin Island should be. We definitely will.” Saying this out loud made it real.
“If anyone can do that, it’s you!” And I could tell Tripp was done with this emotionally dense conversation. “Look at what you have done already. You broke sales records! Oh, and I forgot, geez, hold on—” He headed to the register. “Bob Harkins from East-West Books called and asked you to call him back. He said he was responding to your email.”
The return call to Bob Harkins went to voicemail. I spent a few minutes updating my notes from the visit to Missy’s and then, with new energy, I got to work on the floor, unpacking the remaining boxes of inventory. In no time at all, thanks to Tripp’s efforts, the shop was looking great, the shelves were stocked, the register was cashed out and we were done for the day. We parted ways and Buddy and I headed home.
I had barely parked before my cell phone rang. “Hey, I know you didn’t invite me, but I am bringing you dinner tonight. I made some chili and I am on my way, you can’t say no!” Barb said all at once without a breath. “See you in about ten minutes.” With that, the line went dead. I hadn’t even answered her.
As I was scooping Buddy’s food into his bowl, there was a knock on my porch door and Barb was walking through it, carrying a Crockpot with its lid snapped in place. “You haven’t said one word, but I know what today is and I don’t want you to be alone tonight. So here I am, sorry, but you’re stuck with me at least for a few hours.” She set the pot on the counter. “I have chili and some crusty bread. And a bottle of pinot grigio, so buon appetito to us!”
“Thank you, Barb. This is an incredible kindness, thank you,” I said as I felt my eyes starting to fill for the first time today. “I just wanted to get through today. The kids and I are planning a little something tonight and I stayed busy all day, so that helped. It is hard to believe that I haven’t seen my husband in a year—to think about all that he has missed, and what has happened this year. We spent over thirty years together and to just not be there, to not hear him, to not be able to tell him about even these small things in my day—it’s just so—I don’t know what it is …”
“It’s awful, is what it is. He would have loved that you opened the shop, I bet, and that you have a dog again. I remember how much he loved playing on the beach with your two fuzzy girls. Boy, those dogs loved the water! Remember how you used those long leads to keep them from swimming away? We all thought they would paddle their way to the mainland if they could! Sanibel would be swimming with her two big old Lab ears, bobbing on the surface like yellow floaties. Remember how cute that was?” We both laughed, remembering all the pure joy of just being happy and present at that moment.
“Today was a good day, even though it was a hard day,” I said simply.
“Was it? I’m glad for you. What made it a good day?” Barb sat back in her chair to listen and I told her about all that happened, from the positive feedback from the tourism group, to the record sales at the store, to the information I got from my talk with Missy and, of course, Carl’s map with Governor’s Point highlighted.
“As much as I want to believe Missy—and what she says does make sense—it was weird to me that being back in Carl’s house didn’t seem to spark any emotion in her. I mean, she and I had a real moment of connection outside in her yard. We were both pretty open about what we were thinking and how we could have handled things differently. I could see that she let the emotion of being rejected, passed over by Carl, cloud her judgment. But, if you felt that strongly, would you then not care at all when you went back into his house? I mean, her biggest concern was cleaning out the food. And that seemed off base to me.” I looked at Barb as she poured us each another glass of wine.
“I hear you. It is a little weird, I agree,” Barb said. “So, one minute you are saying, you got all worked up because Carl moved on too quickly—and then the next minute you’re saying you’re concerned with the vegetables and fruit in the fridge? It does seem off, but what do we really know about Missy? Maybe she is just a little off, maybe this is just her way. Just because you or I wouldn’t react this way doesn’t make her a killer. You have to admit, all the theatrics at Carl’s house Saturday were kind of a lot.”
“Right,” I said. “It just doesn’t sit right with me. I guess I got thrown off by Helen’s stories about Missy. And now I want to be sure I am not missing anything else. I think I am going to see what some of our other islanders know about Missy.”
Barb was more interested in Carl’s map, and as I told her about it, she leaned forward and pushed our bowls and plates to the side. “Did Julie mention this to you?” she interrupted.
“No, and it wasn’t on the evidence list she shared with me, but I wonder if they took pictures of it while they were out there at his house. It seems like Julie thinks my biggest help will be in talking to people and getting word-of-mouth background, but I have a feeling this map is telling us something. Governor’s Point was marked a different way than the others. I think I can do more to help.”
“Of course you do!” Barb smiled at me. “You and your overachieving self. Grab your computer, and let’s dig into some of these properties.”
I cleared the table and brought my laptop from the bookshelf in the family room. We were able to research all of the properties Missy and I found on Carl’s map that were located near island landmarks. Using the county property records database, we were able to see the registrations of new deeds. From what we could tell, the red pins were properties sold in the last few years. Information from some online real estate sites was also helpful. One of the blue pins seemed to be tied to a current listing, although I did not see a for-sale sign in the yard. Barb said she would take a ride by that property in the morning to see if there was a lockbox on the front porch or something indicating it may be for sale. However, the green pin remained a mystery. Why was the very spot where Carl died marked in this unique way?
As we worked together on the laptop, I said, “I still don’t have access to Carl’s computer information from Julie. And I don’t see the email Julie said she would send along, which is surprising. Hopefully, she will send it tomorrow morning. I want to see if there is a listing report in there. Carl owned his brokerage and didn’t have a partner, but his listing report would show us what he was working on.”
“Governor’s Point has been basically abandoned for years. In all the times I went there, I never saw anyone, not one single person,” Barb said. “But then Carl, who had the listing years ago and sold some of the lots, is found dead there. I am no detective, but that is not a coincidence.”
I looked at the clock. Hours had passed. I told Barb, “If we aren’t careful, we may end up on the county payroll.” We made our plan for tomorrow and I updated my notes.
After Barb left, I settled down for our family video call. Even though I hated that we were having this conversation about Rob in the past tense, I recognized it was a wonderful way to celebrate him. Meredith and Nicholas both had so many stories to share about “their favorite thing Dad did.” Over the years, we had enjoyed improvised song lyrics and amusement park trips, roller coaster rides, and learning to ski, so many good stories. The kids even had funny memories about times we had to discipline them.
It reassured me that although they missed their dad, the kids were mentally in a good place. They were sad but they were moving through the grief process in a healthy way. In all the talks and time together over the last year, this was the best they both sounded. We were getting there as a family, wherever this “there” was. Aside from them seeing Buddy on camera for the first time, the best part of the call was the news that both of them were coming to Mongin Island for Memorial Day weekend.
“You made me so happy tonight, both of you,” I said to them. “Your dad loved you both so much, I am so proud of you and the people you have become, the way you handled this year. I can’t wait for us all to be together. I love you guys!”
“Aw, Mom,” Meredith said, “I’m sorry you had to be alone tonight and that we couldn’t be there, but I am so glad we did this. It felt good to talk about all our happy memories!”
“Let’s do a cookout when we are together. I’ll grill,” Nicholas said. “Grilling burgers and dogs after going to the beach, that’ll be awesome! We can take Buddy for a long walk and he can sniff all he wants.”
Our plans were made. The knowledge that it wouldn’t be too long before we would be under one roof wrapped me like a cozy sweater on a cool night. I smiled as I settled myself into bed. Today was a good day. I was blessed with my children, my friends, and the possibility of still living a life of purpose. With gratitude, I was able to sleep peacefully and did not allow my mind to wander to the unanswered questions of Governor’s Point.