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could use some ideas.”
    “What you want to hear? I got loads of stories, but whatever happened that night remains a mystery to me,” said Simpson. “Mind you there’s not much to tell.” He sat back in his straight-backed wooden chair and let the net fall at his feet. He folded his arms across his narrow chest, and began his tale. He loved an audience.
    “The night was wild. Everyone was inside, as they should be, me included. Storms like this are not good omens. The sea was angry, and was punishing the earth. Maybe it resented all the fish and like that we took from her. Lots of things get washed up on shore after weather like this. So I was not surprised that the wreck was there the next day. Many things got torn from the depths of the Gulf that night. Maybe even that mermaid in Malpeque.”
    The girls exchanged amused looks. Mermaids? Then, in a much less dramatic fashion, Simpson continued his story.
    “What did surprise me was seeing someone out in weather like this. He must have been crazy. He was coming down this here road, and passed right in front of my window. Came from up there,” said Simpson, pointing up the road. “Up from Arrowhead. Nothing much out that way except woods, sand and water. No houses so no neighbours to visit. My guess is he was an eager-beaver beachcomber.”
    Hannah frowned. If it was a dark and stormy night, how could Simpson see anything ? She voiced her doubts and then fiddled with the tape recorder as Simpson turned his eyes on her.
    “Dearie, see that there light next to the red fishing shanty,” he growled, pointing straight ahead and across the road. Perched on the corner of the roof, a round aluminum umbrella sheltered a light bulb, and it was aimed on the road. “We call it Little Mabel because it was the now late Mabel Higgins who first suggested we put it up, God rest her snooty soul. It lights up the whole road and part of the harbour. Helps me keep an eye on things at night, if you get my meaning.”
    They didn’t.
    “Can you describe him?” asked Hannah after a slight pause, glancing at Emily’s ‘map.’ She could recognize the road, and the fishing shanty, but that stick figure was a bit troubling. It looked like it was fishing. Scratching her head, Hannah wondered what exactly Emily was looking at?
    “Well, he looked like he had dark hair, but that was hard to tell since he was soaked. Had no umbrella you see. Anyways, he had this long raincoat, some dark brown or green in colour. It was them fancy kinds that you would wear to church. He was carrying a lantern. Not a flashlight. He was tall. And he moved kinda fast, not like a real old-timer. Wasn’t fat either.”
    Pencil poised in the air, Emily asked if the mysterious stranger was carrying anything.
    “Nothing that I could make out other than that lantern,” said Simpson, shaking his head. “However, now that I think about it, I must say that his other hand was hugged to his chest, real tight like, as if he had something under his coat that he didn’t want to fall out.”
    The girls quickly looked at each other, clearly excited by this little tidbit of information. Treasure! Always thinking ahead, Lucy said, “Maybe he found one of the stray kittens that Mrs. Wilson takes care of.” She hoped it was enough to draw Simpson’s attention away from her juicy idea.
    “Perhaps,” nodded Simpson. “Them darn cats are everywhere. Agatha needs to stop feeding those beasts. They’re overrunning French River. Nasty creatures.”
    Emily shot Simpson a dirty look. In return, Hannah’s foot shot out and booted her sister in the butt, silencing her from any further comment.
    Oblivious to this episode of sisterly love, Simpson picked up his net and went back to work, tying the loose and frayed ends. It was obvious he had no more to say on the matter. The girls thanked him for his time, and made their way back up the road.
    Emily’s map was interesting. Birds flew in the sky, trees grew in the water, and boats