The front door was locked, so when Missy arrived, Tripp had to walk across the store to let her in. If she was curious about the circumstances of this meeting, she did not show it. Tripp brought her to the table where Barb and I were seated, discussing the recent events. “Missy, hi, thanks for coming so quickly. This really shouldn’t take long. Please, have a seat.” I gestured to the chairs on Barb’s side of the table. Interestingly, Buddy did not get out of his chair to greet her. For such a friendly dog, it was curious that he had no interest in seeing her, someone with whom he had spent considerable time.
She sat down in the closest chair and looked around the room. “It’s nice in here. It looks so different now that all the T-shirt stuff is gone. It’s a nice spot.” She smiled as she spoke, but I got the first glimpse that she was uncomfortable. Her face was flushed and she pulled distractedly on a silver ring on her right hand. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Just a couple of things, really. The first, I guess, is Governor’s Point. We are hoping you can help us, Missy. Just seems like we have a lot of inconsistent information, so I thought we would start at the beginning,” Barb answered for me as I gathered my thoughts.
Missy’s eyes went over my head and she saw the prints of the pictures I took last Saturday. In all the events, I hadn’t had time to get them professionally printed and framed. Even at these small sizes, Missy recognized Governor’s Point. Her expression revealed as much to me.
“You asked me why anyone would go there,” I said, “So I guess it’s time for me to ask you that same question. Why did you go there, Missy? What were you looking for?”
“I don’t know what you are talking about, I—” she answered quickly, sitting straight up in her chair.
“Let’s not do that Missy. We already know you were there, we just want to understand why. Why did you go? You said you knew nothing about the property or anything Carl was working on, so why would you go to Governor’s Point sometime after last Saturday?”
Missy silently looked from me to Barb and then back to me. Finally, she said, “I went to see what everyone was talking about—and that’s not a crime. I can do that if I want. I wanted to see, I just wanted to know, I guess—not that I owe you any kind of explanation.” She paused and then continued, “And how did you know I was there? Did someone tell you that? I mean you can’t prove I was there, not that you have to or anything.”
“We found something that belongs to you, Missy, at Governor’s Point. That’s how we know. It is just odd for someone who has no connection there to go to a crime scene and not mention it,” I answered her, referencing the lighthouse charm specifically. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how much to reveal. In the rush to get this all set up, we didn’t cover every detail with Julie and her team. Right now, we were just making it up as we were going along. I still wasn’t certain that particular charm belonged to her.
“Can I see your cart key and your key ring?” I asked.
Her head jerked back. “No, actually, I don’t think you can.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest.
Barb and I were looking at her, waiting for her to say something else. We were locked like this when I saw Tripp head back toward the door and we heard Paul enter the store. “I assume you may know why I am here, is that correct?” he asked Tripp, speaking in his usual clipped tone, as if Tripp was the household help, like his butler or something.
“That I do, yes, come through this way,” Tripp said, even bowing slightly as he said it. He guided Paul with his left arm, who soon saw Missy sitting with us. And, there it was, just a glimpse of recognition. If you blinked, you would have missed it. It was that ever so slight flash of an exchange between them. I knew we were on the right path.
“So, Paul, this is Missy, I’m not sure if you two have met.” I introduced them as Paul pulled a chair to the head of the table and sat down. Neither of them said a word.
Paul finally spoke first. “So, what supposed information do you now have for me? Your meaning is lost on me. And where is my book? It is my hope you are expeditious about this. As you well know, I am working on a very time-sensitive project.”
“Well, I can see you have other things to talk about, I don’t know anything about your books. I’ll head out and—” Missy started to stand up.
Barb leaned forward, gently touched her arm, and said firmly, “We would really like for you to stay.” Missy sat back down, but I wasn’t sure how long she would comply. Barb turned to Paul almost at the same time and said, “Yes, Paul, we are all well aware.” I think we had all reached the end of our patience with Paul. Barb did not even try to mask her annoyance with him. He shot her a menacing look but did not reply.
Everything that happened these past few days was coming down to this moment, this conversation. It was hard to believe a week ago our biggest concern was adding decor to this very room to make it feel more inviting, more like a home on Mongin Island. “It must begin so it can end,” I said, more to myself than to anyone in particular.
“Paul—” I began, searching his face for some sign of recognition of what was coming. Seeing none, I was disappointed, but continued, “Paul, at your request, I contacted my book distributors and wholesalers, hoping they could find some of the volumes you requested. And, fortunately, a few were resourceful enough to use their networks, as you are aware.”
Mirroring Missy, Paul sat back, crossed his arms, and almost shouted, “If this is your idea of an update, I must bid you good day!”
“Just listen! Will you please just stop talking?” Barb yelled at him, like she had been storing it up all week. Missy shifted away from her, putting distance between them.
I smiled slightly at Barb. The woman called it as she saw it. You had to give her that. Paul didn’t even respond, his mouth open in slight shock.
I continued, “As you have reminded us, your obscure request has been a challenge, to say the least. Not that I haven’t tried to help you but, yes, I have been unsuccessful. What has bothered me from the beginning was, why did you need these specific books for this mysterious research and project? I think I may understand that better now, no thanks to you, but let’s pause on the why for now.”
Grabbing my iced tea, I took a long sip, stretched a little in my seat, and then continued. “One of my book distributors was kind enough to drop off some potential new inventory selections, and he also sent me one of the books on your list.”
“So, where is it?” Paul demanded, moving to the front of his chair, as if preparing to leave.
This time it was Tripp who appeared in the doorway and calmly but forcefully said, “Paul, we are not going to ask you again.” The vagueness of this statement must have given him pause. Paul remained seated, silent. Missy alternated between looking at each of us, searching for a clue as to what was coming, and then staring at her lap. She had wrapped her arms around herself protectively.
“The book my colleague found for you is about treasure hunting,” I said. “Specifically about a famous dig on Mongin Island. But unfortunately, these treasure hunters weren’t successful. I think you might be interested in this, Paul, because these people were researching a lot of the same things in which you are interested. They were searching for graves of British soldiers killed in the pre-American Revolutionary War period, right here on Mongin Island. Funny enough, that’s what you were researching too, right Paul?”
Paul spoke through tight lips, barely moving. His words were like a hiss. “Yes, that is what interests me, I thought I made that absolutely clear to you, Carr. How tremendously disappointing that this simple concept was lost on you.”
“Ahh yes, that old disappointment. Funny you mention that, actually, Paul. In this story, that was exactly what made an emotional connection to me as a reader. It was the disappointment the team felt at the end of their time on the island. There is a picture in the book that really helps you connect to this team of researchers. But the person who stood out the most was a professor who helped guide this team. His disappointment was so tangible and real, you almost felt it through the photo on the page. And, it turns out you share something else with this professor, Paul, something more than just your interest in events that occurred during this historical period.” I paused took a breath, and delivered the final blow. “Is Edward Easton your father? If he is, then I think we need to talk about the King’s Cross.”