“Or perhaps,” Naki said, “she didn’t want the gold at all. Perhaps she felt it was tainted.”
“That could be true too,” Dr. Johnson said, “though one cache seems to be missing.”
“What?” Chase said. “Which one? We got to all the clues.”
“Not all,” Scout said. “You overlooked one.”
Tim noticed the look she gave Chase that was not at all friendly.
“I couldn’t have. Which one?”
“‘I left it where the ocean weeps,’” Scout said, “‘for what I couldn’t carry weighs me still.’”
Chase’s eyes widened. “Oh...right. Right.”
“That clue,” she said, turning to Naki, “was what led us to Weeping Rock.”
Naki held her gaze. “It’s where women go to release their sorrows.”
Tim wasn’t the most observant guy in the world, but there seemed to be some unsaid connection between Scout and Naki. Maybe? Maybe not. Maybe romance was just on his mind with the arrival of Becky Benton. Just as cute now as she was at sixteen—
Wait. Dr. Johnson was talking and he’d completely lost the thread.
“So,” Dr. Johnson said, “my theory is that Mrs. Lipp returned to collect one cache.”
“Why?” Chase said. “Just because it’s missing? Someone else might have found it.”
“Possibly, but the timing seems to fit my theory. Mrs. Lipp began a business in Bar Harbor that was founded ... let’s see...” Dr. Johnson looked at his notes. “Winter of 1853. And it’s still in business.”
“What business is that?” Chase asked, his pen pausing mid-scratch.
Pausing, Dr. Johnson smiled, this time with a hint of mischief. “TheBar Harbor Gazette.”
Chase’s pen stilled. He looked up, blinking. “Are you saying—”
“She used that first stash of gold to start your newspaper, Chase.”
“But ... that would mean...”
“It would mean she’s your great-great-great-grandmother,” Dr. Johnson finished for him.
Frankie let out a low whistle. “Well, that explains a whole lot.”
Maisie finally spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper. “That’s ... soooo cool.”
Tim leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “So, Fletcher, how’s that for the rest of the story?”
Chase stared at Dr. Johnson, then at Tim, his pen dangling uselessly in his hand. For once, the reporter seemed to be at a loss for words.
“Hold up,” Frankie said. “There’s still one more part of this story that needs an answer.”
Tim cut his eyes to Frankie. “And what’s that?”
“When do Scout and I get our money?”
That boy! Tim pointed to the door. “Out. You’re on trail maintenance today. Maisie, go with him and make sure he gets there.”
To his surprise, Maisie balked. Slowly, she pushed off the wall to follow Frankie out the door, but she didn’t look happy about it.
