I don’t know what Floyd and Spencer are looking for. Just that it’s a poster, and it’s part of Joseph Kemp’s hidden stash.

For one, wild moment, my mind flashes to the poster that Aiden and I took from the abandoned convenience store in Port Sitka. The old, vintage advertisement for Campbell’s soup that read How Do You Handle A Hungry Man? - The Manhandlers.

Aiden’s mind clearly went right there, too, because he leans down and says into my ear - “Soup, the - the manhandling soup? Man soup. Grope soup. What was it called?”

“No,” I laugh, whipping around to press a fingertip over his mouth. “It can’t be, alright? If this case turns on that poster, it’ll be-”

“The greatest thing ever? I agree, yes.”

“Not what I was gonna say!” I pause for a moment, reconsidering. “Although - wait a second, you’re right. It absolutely would be, what the hell am I saying? Hey, Spencer - does the poster you’re looking for say anything about, um - manhandling? Or soup?”

Spencer lifts his head, bewildered and slightly alarmed. “What?”

“No, yeah, definitely not - nevermind!” I turn back to Aiden, wincing deeply, my cheeks coloring up. “Why did I kind of think it would, for a second?”

“Oh, my god.” Aiden huffs out a pained laugh, rubbing his eyes. “If anyone asks, I don’t know you. Go stand over there, yeah?”

“No, Callahan! You’ve already said you love me, so it’s too late. You have to accept all the humiliation that goes in hand with that.”

“Lovely,” he groans, and I elbow him in the ribs.

“You two dumb idiots,” Kasey giggles, pressing her fingertips to her temples. “There are times I’m actually glad to be invisible.”

Will has looked faintly embarrassed this whole time, but it turns out not for the reasons I thought.

“I’m afraid,” he begins haltingly, “I don’t know - that may be one of the modern things I’ve yet to hear of. Might someone fill me in?”

We all look at him in surprise and confusion.

“What haven’t you heard of, babe?” Kasey asks, baffled.

“Manhandling soup.”

“What-? Oh my god, no,” Kasey-groan laughs, sinking her face into her hands. “It’s not a thing, Will! No one has heard of that! Don’t say it again!”

Will drops his puzzled leaf-green eyes to her. “Come on now, just tell me. Is it a kind of snack? Or an entrée?”

“Yeah it is,” I laugh, and Kasey swats at me, her translucent hand coasting right through my chest. “Actually, please do say it again, Will. It’s so funny in your voice, with your old-timey accent.”

“Manhandling soup.”

“Now say it again, but with like, raging enthusiasm.”

“Mmmmm, yum, manhand-”

“No!” Kasey swiftly presses a hand over Will’s mouth, then whips around to glare at me as Aiden and I slump into each other, shaking with silent laughter. She bites her lip, trying not to laugh, too. “Jamie! Don’t make it a thing, for fuck’s sake, it’s not a thing-”

“Got it!” Floyd shouts excitedly, straightening up by the laptop. “We’ve got it right here!”

Will, Kasey, Aiden, and I all stop and stare at him.

“What?” I ask.

Floyd blinks at me, confused, then beckons eagerly to all of us. “The poster we were looking for, we found it!”

“Oh, the-” I give myself a shake, then lead the way across the kitchen to Floyd and Spencer. “Right, the poster!”

“What-?” Kasey stares at the laptop screen, taken aback. “This is it?”

It’s absolutely not the Campbell’s ad, but it’s something unexpected: a lost cat poster. There’s a description of a tabby and where she disappeared, a phone number to call, and the offer of a small reward if anyone finds her.

There’s nothing unusual about it, so far as I can tell. I can’t think why Kemp would have kept it in his secret stash of secret papers. Or why his attorney would have specifically told him to get rid of it.

Aiden voices the obvious question. “Are we sure this is the right poster?”

“This is the only poster that was in the papers.” Spencer narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “It kind of stands out for being so random, doesn’t it? Most of the other stuff he hid away, he had reason to keep quiet about.”

Floyd tips his head all the way back to look up at Aiden. “Did you get pictures of the backs of the pages?”

“Yeah, in that folder.”

Floyd spins around and begins speedily searching through the folder. “We need to check the back of the poster.”

“Right, because we know that Kemp took notes on everything,” Spencer says, with mounting excitement. “Even when it was a very bad idea to do so, and people had specifically told him not to. Maybe the attorney wanted him to get rid of the poster because of what was written on it. We could be wrong, but-”

“No, wait,” Aiden says slowly, blinking hard at Spencer. “There was something written on the back of that poster. I didn’t read it, but I saw-”

“Oh, shit!” Floyd cuts in, pointing his ringed finger at my laptop. “Look at that!”

It’s the photo that Aiden took of the back of the poster, and there’s something scrawled in faded pencil on the page. A series of dashed-out bullet point notes.

“Kemp’s handwriting,” Spencer says instantly, breathlessly.

We all lean down to read it. Some of the writing is too worn away with time to be legible, resulting in gaps here and there.

-Agent will arrive the night of… stay at the… under the name J…

-Do not make contact (for any reason) but make sure that no local law enforcement disrupts the agent’s…

-...caused by the agent does not go public or result in an investigation (damage control)

-...f there’s a serious, immediate emergency, put up the missing dog poster at the corner of 5th and… do not attempt any other… then wait to be contacted.

-...concerned for the agent’s safety, put up the missing cat poster at the… but only if it’s absolutely cer…

-Don’t tell anyone, don’t write anything down

There’s a resounding silence in the kitchen after everyone finishes reading. Spencer finishes first and snaps upright, lacing his fingers over his mouth. Floyd is right behind him, and he draws back a little, taking in a sharp breath, right as Kasey makes a choked, excited little sound. Will, Aiden, and I all gasp softly at the same time.

In one movement, we all turn to look at each other. Everybody is wide-eyed, too excited to speak.

“Police - police coverup,” Spencer manages, stumbling over each word, pointing at the laptop. “Proof. Hard proof. This - and the - the agent-”

“Told you, I told you,” Floyd says faintly, his overmagnified eyes enormous, staggered. “Espionage angle - John Botswick - oh, the-”

He stammers into silence. We’re all reeling from the amount of information we just gained.

I glance out of the kitchen window and see the sun sinking down below the horizon line outside, casting the last soft glimmers and splashes of shimmering red light on the landscape. Dusk is falling in a slow, violet-tinged sweep across the sky, which colors the wispy clouds floating past.

I turn back to Floyd and Spencer, considering just how much we have to talk about.

“How would you guys like to stay for dinner?”

~~~~

“Okay,” Floyd says, running a thoughtful hand over his jaw. “Here’s what I think happened.”

It feels like he’s about to launch into a campfire story, given the way we’re all sitting. It’s a beautiful, warm spring night, so we moved out into the garden to sit on the grass. Keeping close to the vine-heavy walls of the house, so that Aiden can hear us through the open kitchen window as he cooks. Warm, delicious smells are starting to escape through the window, carried out by the soft twilight breeze. I can hear the comforting clink of bowls and pans being moved around as Aiden works.

I’ve found a leafy profusion of those sweet, fragrant wild blueberries that sometimes grow in our garden. I’m gently picking them into a bowl, slowly staining my fingers purple. Kasey and Will are curled up together against the wall of the house, across from Floyd and Spencer.

But now we all sit forward, listening closely. Aiden pauses and leans out of the window, resting his palms on the sill. For the last thirty minutes or so, Floyd has been making a face like he’s been trying to solve a very difficult math problem in his head.

We all want to hear what he’s got for us.

“We know,” Floyd says slowly, still half in thought, “That John Botswick was a cover name for a U.S. agent who was sent into Port Sitka. Intending to work with an agent already in place, codename Rouge.”

My thoughts go to the lipstick-stained cigarette that we found in the evidence.

“Joseph Kemp…” Floyd stares off into the distance, eyebrows dropped low in thought. “He was the Chief of Police in Port Sitka at the time. Before the CIA sent in their man, they contacted him. To make sure that no cops got in the agent’s way, and that nothing he did would be subject to police inquiry. Asked Kemp to let them know if there was an emergency. Which means…”

“They had reason to believe it was a dangerous mission,” Spencer finishes.

“Well, we know that a number of agents had attempted the job before Botswick did,” Kasey points out, with me repeating her words. “Something must have happened to them. And remember, he specifically wrote that he still felt like his mind was his own. As if that was a concern.”

Floyd points at her in agreement, then lapses back into thought for a minute before he keeps going.

“They thought it was a dangerous job, with some amount of unpredictability. The possibility that things would get messy, for some reason, that they might need damage control. I’m sure that normally, a trained CIA agent could carry out their job without attracting police attention, or - any attention, really. But they thought that this agent might. Presumably not because of his nature, or they’d just send someone else. Presumably because of the nature of the job. So they enlisted the help of Kemp, to make sure things were kept quiet and under control, and to have another set of eyes on what was going on…”

I sit back on my heels and hand the full bowl of blueberries up to Aiden, who leans towards the window so can keep listening as he rinses them off in the sink. Spencer picks up where Floyd left off.

“Kemp is on board to help. Thankfully for us, he’s also awful at following instructions. He wrote down everything he needed to remember, even on the actual fucking poster he was supposed to use as a signal.”

“Honestly. Christ.” Floyd gives Spencer an incredulous glance, lets out a little laugh. “Anyways, Kemp is tasked with making sure the agent - John Botswick - stays off the radar in Port Sitka. He probably thought it would be easy. I’m sure they assured him that he was a fail-safe measure and that everything would be fine… and then, the farmhouse collapses. Botswick intentionally collapsed it. Destroyed it completely.”

Floyd sinks back into thought for a moment. The rest of us keep quiet, watching him.

“There were no casualties reported from the farmhouse incident, but - Kemp is the one who oversaw the investigation, so there wouldn’t be, would there? The cops didn’t go searching through the rubble at all. They immediately ruled it an accident with no injuries. Even though it was so obviously intentional, the saw was the only thing missing from the toolshed.”

“Looks like Kemp served his purpose,” Aiden rumbles, handing me back the blueberries.

“But did he?” Floyd lifts his gaze to Aiden. “Because directly after that farmhouse collapsed, Botswick was shot and killed on the beach. And a police investigation was opened into his death.”

There’s a short silence as we all think about that.

“Kemp must have been panicking,” Floyd goes on, half to himself. “Suddenly he had to cover up the intentional collapse of a building, possibly involving multiple casualties. And then the guy he was supposed to be keeping an eye on turns up dead on the beach. Kemp didn’t know Botswick was in danger, or he would have put up the missing cat poster to warn him. He probably had no idea what was going on. And no choice but to open an investigation into the murder, because doing anything else would have been impossible to explain.”

“He was supposed to hang the missing dog poster if there was an emergency,” I realize out loud. “He only still had the cat one, so - presumably… he put up the dog one?”

“Definitely.” Floyd nods earnestly at me. “Probably after the body was found on the beach, to alert the CIA that there had been a serious emergency. But… did they never contact him, after he put it up?”

Aiden looks at Floyd curiously, popping a blueberry into his mouth. “What makes you say that?”

“It sounds like Kemp doesn’t know what footing he’s on with the authorities.” Floyd leans back on his hands in the grass, thinking hard. “When I started investigating the case, he didn’t know if the government would help him or hurt him. He was even afraid that they might bring charges against him for covering it all up. They wouldn’t, of course, because that would expose them, too - but he didn’t understand that.”

Spencer narrows his dark brown eyes at Floyd. “You think they left him alone with that mess on his hands? And he - assumed that was a punishment, essentially, for failing his first job? He could’ve thought they were holding a grudge, ready to throw him to the wolves if the story went public…”

“It’s possible, yeah.” Floyd gazes thoughtfully at Spencer. “And the CIA never claimed the body. They could have quietly done that, come up with a cover story, and put an end to all the mystery right there. They could have handed the pre-packaged story right to Joe Kemp. But they didn’t. They kept completely out of it, let it grow into a local ghost story, even… I seriously think they may have never contacted Joe Kemp again. He didn’t even know how to reach them when he was panicking about my investigation. He called his brother for help, instead.”

“But - why?” Spencer asks, as the rest of us sit in silence, absorbing that. “Why never contact him again, why make no move when their agent turned up dead? All CIA activity in Port Sitka just came to a dead stop all at once, and never started again? That doesn’t make sense, that’s just - not how shit works. What, did they all just forget about the whole fucking thing?”

For a moment, Spencer’s words ring in my head with some significance I’m not quite sure of. I sit perfectly still on the grass, some thought right at the edge of my grasp.

Then the realization breaks over my head, at the exact same time it breaks over Kasey’s. Her eyes light up in tandem with mine, then lock with mine. I know right away that we’re on the same wavelength.

I get swiftly to my feet, and she does, too, pulling Will up with her. Spencer blinks up at me in surprise as I push the bowl of blueberries into his hands.

“Sorry, you guys mind giving us a second?” I ask, following the ghosts to the kitchen door. “Just one second!”

Spencer nods, and Floyd gives us a friendly wave towards the door, reaching for more blueberries. I flash them a smile before I step inside.

Aiden arches a puzzled eyebrow as Kasey, Will, and I gather around him in the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

“Jamie and I just figured something out.”