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I was sitting in Snickety thinking about Chance Munroe when the man himself knocked on my car window. I turned the key and lowered the window. "Mr. Munroe, I'm sorry. I just need some time to digest all of this."
"I need that journal. You have no interest in cryptid hunting. I bet you don't even know what a cryptid is," he said, bending down to look into my car. The man was well over six feet tall and his muscles were obvious under the thermal shirt he wore.
"Bigfoot and Nessie. I'll be in touch with Jim when I reach a decision," I said, pushing the button to raise the window.
I pulled out of the parking space and headed back to Hairy's. I needed to meet with the staff and get a handle on my new business. That needed to be my first priority.
I went to the apartment, changed into jeans and a button-down shirt, and walked into Hairy's Cryptid Cafe. It was just about lunch time and a few tables were full. I made my way into the kitchen. "Hi, Rick. Is there an office or someplace down here where Harry kept his business records?"
"The office is over there," he pointed with a knife he'd been using to slice a tomato.
"When you can break away, come in so we can talk," I said as I headed into the office. It was just as dreary and depressing as the apartment upstairs. I was getting the impression that Uncle Harry didn't care much about the decor of his surroundings. I definitely saw a lot of painting and cleaning in my future. I need to brighten up the office and the apartment for starters. I worked better when I was in surroundings that made me feel light and happy.
I wasn't surprised that there was no computer in sight. I decided to start with the papers on the desk. If there was any system to how things were piled up, I couldn't see it. I needed to be able to see my progress. I gathered all the papers from the top of the desk and stacked them neatly in the chair. I walked around the kitchen until I found the cleaning supplies. I cleaned the top of the desk before sitting down to go through the papers. By the time Rick stuck his head in, I'd separated the piles into bills that needed to be paid and things I needed to ask Rick about.
"Good timing. Do you want something to drink while we talk?"
"I'm good," he said.
I asked him to tell me about the business and the staff. I ate dinner in the cafe watching the customers and my employees. "Can I get a cup of Earl Grey with milk?" I asked Sally as she passed by my table.
"What's Earl Grey? Is that some kind of beer?"
"What? No. Milk in beer? Yuck! No. I want a cup of Earl Grey Tea with milk."
"Sorry. I don't think we've got any tea. I might be able to scare you up a Lipton bag if you want me to go look in the back."
"That's OK," I said as she headed back to the kitchen. I pulled out my pad and added order tea to my growing list of tasks. While I ate, I took a closer look at the photos and clippings that were on the wall by my table. There was a photo of a bunch of trees. The caption said it was a photo of a sasquatch taken in 1978. I scooted my chair closer and still couldn't see anything that look like a bigfoot to me. I used the flashlight app on my phone to light the photo better, but still couldn't see anything.
"It's a pretty good picture, huh?" Chance Munroe said as he slid into the chair across from me.
"Did you take it?"
"In 1978? I wasn't even born yet."
"I don't see anything but trees," I admitted.
"You don't see the big hairy creature hiding behind the third tree on the left?"
"Nope. There's nothing there. This is just a hoax."
"That photo was taken by my father about 60 miles from here. It's considered one of the most definitive pieces of photographic evidence of sasquatch in Idaho."
"Really? This photo?"
"Well, that's a print made from the original negative, but yeah."
I did a quick scan of the other photos and articles near my table. "This one says there's some sort of sea serpent living in a lake in Montana. You believe that?"
"Sure. The Flathead Lake Monster. There have been sightings and photos of that particular cryptid dating back to the eighteen-hundreds."
I really couldn't tell if he believed in this crazy stuff or was just trying to make me look foolish. Neither made me like him any better. "What are you doing here, Mr. Munroe?"
"I eat most of my meals here when I'm not on a hunt, plus I thought you might have questions I could answer for you about cryptid hunting."
"I haven't seen Uncle Harry since I was small. I remember he told me lots of hunting stories. At that point, I guess I wasn't really clear about what he was hunting."
"Harry was one of the best."
"Did he shoot many cryptids?"
He laughed so loudly that most of the other diners turned to stare at us. "Most people who hunt cryptids don't want to kill them, they want to prove they exist."
"So, if you're hunters who never want to shoot anything, why is everyone in these pictures carrying guns?"
"There are lots of dangerous things in the wild—animals, cryptids, even other people."
"You're telling me you go into the woods armed because you might need to shoot another person, but you don't plan to shoot the cryptids you hunt. Did I get that right?"
"No. Not exactly. Look, you and I both know that you'd last about ten minutes out in the wild. Let's figure out a way to work around this thing in Harry's will. I need that journal."