The sheriff’s boat had already brought Deputy Julie and Lieutenant Cole over from the mainland and they had their black Tahoe pulled up to the gangway, right next to the front parking lot. On an island full of golf carts, this scene drew many curious looks from the passengers waiting to board the next ferry. As I approached, Julie climbed out of the car and we walked together to meet the incoming ferry. The water lapped against the wood pylons. The smaller boats, tied to nearby slips, bobbed in the gentle waves. We walked in silence. The easy camaraderie we previously shared definitely felt strained, at least to me.
“There it is now, pulling around the cove,” Julie said as she shaded her eyes with her right hand. “I’ve heard quite a few things about Theresa. I wonder what will end up being true.”
“I actually have the opposite problem,” I answered. “So far, no one can really tell me much about Theresa, except that she was dating Carl, lived in a gated community, and was active in the real estate market. I feel like there are a lot of things to explore, that’s for sure.”
As the passengers disembarked, we spotted Theresa immediately, walking confidently toward us. Her outstretched hand was perfectly manicured and complemented by a large silver and gold ring twisted into a knot. She wore coral-colored pants, a crisp white top, and designer wedge sandals. It was her necklace that immediately caught my eye: a Van Cleef and Arpels vintage clover necklace. My mother was gifted a similar one years ago and it was now among my most treasured possessions.
After brief introductions, Julie shepherded us back to the Tahoe. Theresa and I climbed into the back seats. If Theresa was curious about my role, she did not reveal it. Her face was unreadable. Once the doors were closed, Julie asked a few questions that Theresa answered simply. She confirmed she and Carl had known each other for almost two years—and had worked on some deals together on the mainland. They had sold a small development of villas together as co-brokers. As she talked, she reached into her leather tote bag and pulled out a presentation folder, embossed with her name.
“Apologies, team, but I did not prepare one for each of you. However, I noted a few things I thought would facilitate our discussion today. Page 1 includes all our past transactions, organized by property address, where Carl and I worked together. The following page has a list of properties we were considering as potential flips—some here and some on the mainland. Of course, we couldn’t do them all at once. We had to prioritize. Do you see the ones in the bold font? Those were our top contenders, the ones we were seriously considering purchasing with the intent of fixing up and reselling quickly. There are two here on the island.”
At Julie’s direction, Cole drove us to the first property, which was at the opposite end of the island, about a ten-minute drive. Unprompted, Theresa described the dinner she shared with Carl where they each realized there was more going on between them than their work. As she told the story, they simply evolved into a romantic couple.
“It was natural,” she said. “Little by little, we spent more time together and we saw things the same way. We both liked watching college football, we liked thriller movies, and we always had something to talk about. So, we spent more and more time together. It was easy to be with Carl and, surprisingly, he found it easy to be with me. People don’t always say that about me, for some reason.” She sat a little straighter as she finished speaking, like admitting this unburdened her from something she usually hides.
We pulled into a dirt driveway. In front of us was a small cottage that clearly needed substantial renovations, set far back from the road.
“You’re right,” I said. “This is a hidden treasure.”
“Carl was very good at finding these gems. He knew the owner and had been talking to him, working with him for at least six months. Most likely, we would have to completely gut the interior, but we thought we could get it for the right price to make the numbers work.”
“I can see what you saw in this place,” I said, looking around the property.
“We wanted this one because of its location. It’s pretty secluded back here, so a new buyer wouldn’t have to deal with all the tourists and their nonsense. The county dock is right down the road, which is perfect for people who want to get in and out of here without riding with a hundred or so people crammed onto a ferry. Since it is on the opposite side of the island, far away from the other dock, it definitely feels more remote, right?”
These did not seem to be the words of someone emotionally tied to this island, someone who put up with inconveniences because the payoff of living here, of being here, was worth it. This sounded like she had already done a cost-benefit analysis and fortunately, this property ended up on the right side of her balance sheet.
Deputy Julie and Lieutenant Cole had their own questions and their own rhythm of asking them. Theresa wove her story about the weeks leading up to last Saturday like someone working on a needlepoint. Her thread was going in and out of this fabric, creating this design as she spoke. There were colors of different events and conversations creating an image.
But was it real? The parts and pieces of this story sounded very much like she and Carl were a couple, who shared many interests, including this island and selling real estate on it. The more she talked, though, the main difference between them also became clear. Carl wanted to sell property here because he loved Mongin Island. It made him happy when other people chose to spend a part of their lives here. He believed in all of it: the beautiful beachfront properties and the tiny cottages, the dirt roads and fishing from the dock, the history, the idea of being part of the community. With half our tour over, the only thing Theresa had convinced me of was that she believed in the lucrative deals she and Carl were able to broker.
“Honestly, that is amazing, Theresa. In a way, I’m finding one detail actually very hard to believe,” Julie said. “Real estate sales are so emotional. Large purchases and lots of change are definitely a recipe for short fuses. And you’re saying Carl never had this experience? Every client was just as happy as a June bug?” Julie turned from the front passenger seat to look at Theresa directly and pulled her long hair behind her right shoulder so she could get a better look at her. Their eyes locked. I was caught off guard that Julie suddenly changed the meeting’s energy with just a few words.
“Well, yes, you don’t have to believe me, I guess. Call his clients, everything is in his database. He has every client and all his transactions, and he kept a log of all his showings, open houses, everything. You don’t need me to tell you this, you can find it yourself.” She took Julie’s challenge.
“My team is doing exactly that, as we speak,” Julie said.
“If Carl had clients who were upset with him, I don’t know who they are,” Theresa said. “I never met one, never heard him talk about a bad client situation. Of course, there were sticking points in some deals, but no show-stoppers, no deals that fell through. Carl got his deals done and got paid.” She answered without breaking eye contact, not backing down from the implications Julie was making.
I was so engrossed in this exchange that the road to the next destination passed without me noticing. In no time, we arrived at a modest house very close to the island church, right in the middle of the island. We climbed out and walked to the front of the car. Deputy Julie leaned against the bumper, her left elbow rested on the hood. Her posture was relaxed but her eyes were alert, focused on all that was going on around us.
From the outside, the house looked in decent shape. With a fresh coat of paint and some yard work, this house would definitely have curb appeal. Theresa was explaining the owner had moved to an assisted living community on the mainland but his children wanted to sell. Disagreements between the family kept them from moving forward.
“It’s a classic example of why families should not leave properties vacant,” Theresa explained. “They’re driving their own price down by not maintaining the property. Carl had just about convinced them to agree on our price and to sell. We told them we would make them an all-cash offer.”
Our conversation was interrupted by the rattle of a golf cart hitting the bumps in the uneven dirt road. Over Deputy Julie’s shoulder, I watched Missy approach, not sure what to do or say.
“What did you do to him, what did you do?” Missy shouted at Theresa as she climbed out of the cart. In just a couple of strides, she had elbowed her way into our circle. Theresa recoiled as she shook her head from side to side.
“Everything was fine until you came along! What did you do!?” Missy continued to scream. Julie stepped forward, positioning herself at Missy’s side.
“Missy, I am going to have to ask you to take a few steps back, now,” Julie commanded, but instead, Theresa complied. Cole had already moved to stand on Missy’s other side. Both officers were ready if this escalated.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t—” Theresa began.
“Sorry? You’re sorry? Carl is dead because of you! You couldn’t leave him alone. You had to ruin everything!” Missy looked at Theresa with white-hot hatred.
“I didn’t do anything,” Theresa said. “Look, I don't know what you think I did, but I can assure you, I didn’t do it!” Theresa had backed up until she was close to me.
“Missy, please,” I said, as I raised my hands in the air. “This is not helping Carl. We are trying to figure out what happened to him, you know that. Theresa is telling us about some of the work they were doing.”
“So, you’re just going to stand there, you’re just going to allow her to stand there and you’re not doing anything to her? She gets away with this?” Missy shifted her anger to Julie and then Cole, daring them to punish Theresa. Had Missy actually seen more than she shared with me?
My thoughts were trying to catch up to Missy, but she refocused on Theresa and with new energy, she demanded, “Why couldn’t you just have left him alone? It was all your stupid idea to find a buyer for Governor’s Point. You greedy, wicked woman!” Missy looked at each one of us, her eyes wide and the vein on her temple bulging.
“I don’t know who you are or what you want, but whatever it is, you definitely have the wrong person. Still, I hope you find your answer,” Theresa said, I think trying to sound more confident than she felt. She smoothed her hair and straightened her top while looking at Missy.
“What the—now you’re just going to pretend? You fake, miserable, terrible woman. You are a horrible excuse for a girlfriend. He actually felt something for you? You fake, awful—” Missy was hurling insults like a pitching machine on the fritz. The show was over though, according to Deputy Julie, who firmly took her by the arm and pushed her toward her cart.
“Enough now, Missy. Let’s go,” Julie commanded.
“Missy, go along now and cool off, you settle yourself down before something else goes wrong.” Deputy Julie directed Missy to her cart, where fortunately Missy climbed in without resisting. “You head along now, and we will say this little show of yours never happened. You may be upset now, but you are dangerously close to interfering with police business,” Julie said sharply, “I don’t need you tracking us down and inserting yourself.”
“Tracking you down? Please,” she scoffed, “you’re out here for all the world to see. The whole island is talking about you dragging her here, and how she is your prime suspect,” Missy snapped.
Lieutenant Cole appeared around the passenger side of Missy’s cart. “Go ahead Missy, we can take it from here. Do yourself and us a favor and let us get back to it,” he said.
After one last piercing leer at Theresa, Missy shot me a look that, if I read it correctly, conveyed a betrayal. She put her cart into reverse and without looking, backed up, turned quickly onto School Road and headed toward the church. We all stood silently for a moment, absorbing the chaos, the absurdity of what we witnessed, what was said, and what was left unsaid.
Theresa’s stunned expression revealed that Missy’s outburst had penetrated her cool, collected demeanor. She was rattled. “Who was that?” she whispered, wiping the sweat from her upper lip with her left hand.
“What do you mean?” I asked as Julie and Cole rejoined us.
“Theresa, are you alright?” Julie asked. “Do you need a few minutes before we continue?”
“I can continue, yes, but who was that woman?” Theresa asked again.
“You really don’t know who that was?” Julie asked.
“No clue. What was her name? Missy? I couldn’t even understand what was being said, it all happened so fast. How does she know me?” Theresa’s eyes searched our faces as if asking us to pick her side. But her side of what, exactly?
“Yes, that was Missy,” Julie said, then waited for a response.
“Missy who?” Theresa demanded.
“Missy was previously in a relationship with Carl. Carr, can you fill Theresa in?” Julie said.
“From what I gather, Missy and Carl were casually dating until very recently, when Carl apparently ended it with Missy. She had told him that she was allergic to his dog Buddy—and shortly after that Carl stopped speaking to Missy. Next thing we know, you and Carl are seen out and about together.”
“How recently?” Theresa asked.
“Missy said their relationship ended a few weeks ago.”
“So essentially, what you’re saying is, there was a time when he was involved with both of us. Missy knew about me, but Carl never mentioned her, I had no idea. What a fool I was.” Theresa said sadly, unaware of the irony that Missy shared her same words and feelings.
“Missy thinks I had something to do with Carl’s death because I appeared in Carl’s life at the same time as interest in Governor’s Point heated up? Well, I didn’t. I can tell you that. I may not have known about her but I absolutely had nothing to do with Governor’s Point. That deal was all Carl. After all this time, he had not one, but two people showing interest in the property.”
“Two parties interested in Governor’s Point?” Julie asked.
Cole was writing in the small notebook he carried.
“Yes, there was one group, some foreign investor who Carl, I think, connected to the developer. I know Carl had been spending a lot of time with this guy recently and they were all supposed to meet to walk the property. Carl said this guy was interested in building sustainably. I guess he wanted to talk to the developer to see if they could minimize the construction’s environmental impact. He wanted to consider doing some off-site construction and framing that would be transported by boat to the site. It would be expensive, but this investor wanted property owners who would buy into this. Carl wondered how the few landowners already here would feel about this idea.”
Theresa was regaining her composure. Talking about business centered her.
“So, he did tell you some things,” Julie said.
“Just that vague outline,” Theresa said.
“How about names?” Julie asked. “We’re working through Carl’s files, but we’re still looking for names on this deal.”
Theresa shook her head. “No, Carl did not share that with me, because it wasn’t my deal. I didn’t ask. He did tell me that he was under a nondisclosure agreement.”
“So, what about this other interested party?” Julie prompted.
“Carl only told me this guy was foreign and a bit of a hothead. He presented an interesting proposal, a property trade. Realtors were doing some of those deals here about ten years ago. There are some houses here that were swapped for better pieces of land back then, but I haven’t seen that since the market cooled off. Brokers used to like trading because it was fast, easy, and deals closed quickly.”
Now, I was even more curious. I asked, “Are you saying this other interested party had property on the island that he wanted to trade for Governor’s Point? Did Scott Campino know about this?”
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think so,” Theresa said. “I think Carl was still vetting it. I recall he said the other property was beachfront, too. From the little I know, though, Scott would be wise to make the deal if we can still make it happen.”
Theresa was showing signs of fatigue. She looked at her watch. “Will I still make the 5:00 boat? Should I push my reservation?”
“No, we can wrap up and get you on that boat, but we have a little more time before we need to head back to the dock,” Julie said. “If we drove down Beach Road, would you be able to point out what land was part of this potential trade?”
“Highly unlikely,” Theresa said. “He mentioned it once as we were driving, and I recall it being on the right side of the road, but I was not really paying close attention.”
As Lieutenant Cole drove back to the ferry landing, Julie and Theresa made plans for a follow-up discussion. Theresa sprang out of the car almost as soon as it came to a stop back at the gangway. “I hope today was helpful for you,” Theresa called out loudly, as if her energy had been magically restored and she wanted everyone in earshot to hear.
Julie did not answer her, which I noticed was a pattern of hers. She simply shook Theresa’s hand and thanked her for her time. Theresa smiled and turned to join the line forming on the dock. She popped a pair of earphones in and was absorbed into the crowd. As far as she was concerned, the visit was officially over.
As we stood watching her board, I said, “Wow, Julie! I feel like we learned a lot today, but I’ve still got more questions than answers.”
“What’s bothering you most? If you had to pick one thing, what would it be?” Julie asked as I got behind the wheel of my cart.
“Definitely Missy,” I said. “She surprised me, to say the least. All that drama seemed way over the top for someone who was casually dating Carl. I get that Missy is angry about the other woman, but for Pete’s sake, Carl and Missy had just started dating. They weren’t married for years and years. Just two days ago, we sat together and she told me she did not expect a serious relationship with Carl. Fast forward to today: Where did all that emotion come from? It was like a completely different Missy showed up. In the time I spent with her alone, Missy blamed Theresa for breaking them up—but not for hurting Carl. And here we are, today, and she is implying Theresa may have killed him. I can’t help but think she saw more than she is letting on. I was just so surprised today. I saw flashes of her temper with me, which I understood. But today was next level.”
“To be honest, Carr, I thought we were going to end up detaining her. She was a minute or two away from me putting some cuffs on her. I wanted her to make the decision to back down herself, but I was prepared to remove her, if we had to. And, I agree with you, something doesn’t add up here.”
“I wish we knew exactly where she was on the island on Thursday,” I said.
“You’re right, we have no footage of Missy anywhere last Thursday that would lead to Governor’s Point. The island doesn’t have that many cameras. Just the landing, the fire station, the church, the Inn, and the coffee shop. So, as far as we know, she was at home all day, like she said. We will spend some time to find out about Missy’s history. No one here seems to know her well, so I wonder if the behavior we just witnessed is part of a pattern of instability. I agree, today felt like a performance of some kind, to me anyway.”
Theresa’s visit was supposed to provide a direction forward but instead, we were left with a haze over the facts of the case that previously seemed clear.
“I also have more questions about Theresa,” I said. “She seems to have had so much in common with Carl, but is that true? Seems like they shared some interests, I guess, but their perspective on Mongin Island and really, on selling properties here, seems as far apart as you could get. The community on Mongin Island was important to Carl. He was a fixture here and a part of a lot of lives. It seems odd that he would be attracted to someone who viewed our island just as a revenue stream.”
“That’s fair,” Julie agreed. “I noticed the same thing. Carl was successful on this island because he sold the experience, he sold the idea of living here, and people connected with that. Everyone we’ve talked to so far said this about him. But when you put it all together, I don’t think that is a reason to doubt Theresa. So far, everything she said is accurate and can be verified. And she has an alibi for Thursday. If I’ve learned one thing in this job, it’s that things sometimes are not as complicated as we try to make them. So far, I can’t see Theresa as a murderer.”
“Right. She wasn’t even here on Thursday,” I said. “But we still don’t know the exact time of death, do we?”
“No, the body having been immersed in all those chemicals and who knows what in that pool water makes a time-of-death trickier to determine, but we should have that report soon,” Julie said.
After making plans to talk again tomorrow, we parted ways.
I was driving back to Books & Brew as the events of the day registered all at once. I realized I was physically and mentally drained. In one morning, relationships were strengthened and they were tested, facts were confirmed and they were questioned. Today was just one day, and it was one hundred days. We had made progress today. Tomorrow we would begin putting these pieces together.