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don’t wait up for me.”
    Before her aunt left, Laura called her back. “Mitch Carter implied I should only report cutesy stuff. Are the people here closed-minded about real news?”
    Phyllis touched her niece on the cheek. “This is your paper. Run it as you see fit. By Godfrey, we are hungry for news. Dan only put out a paper once a month, and he seldom reported anything from the outside world. However, just a small caution. You’ve made a huge investment. Keep folks happy, and that will grow. I’ll bring your suppah around six.”
    Laura mulled over her aunt’s subtle warning. She put delving into the deputy’s background on hold as she bent to her computer. If it was news the citizens wanted, then it was news she planned to give them. She typed the name Vincent Forgione into the search engine. A smile lit her face.
    At midnight, satisfied with her first front page headline—Wealthy Plastics Tycoon Vincent Forgione Leaves Fortune—she filled in the space beneath it with pictures of the yacht and the deputy standing next to the sheet-shrouded gurney. She followed with other news about local events, as well as UP and AP news, and a special section she was certain would win over old and new Cole Harbor citizens: Tidings, where she planned to feature folks who had historical connections to the town.
    When the last copy had been printed and folded, she placed her hands to the small of her back and stretched. She understood why Dan Fremont put out a paper only monthly. With limited local news, it entailed a lot of work for one person. Nevertheless, before she turned out the light, she vowed to invest in a police scanner for the office and to turn the Gazette into a weekly production.

Chapter Five
    Little more than a week later, during The Friday Sisters Book Club meeting, the talk was about the headlines in the morning paper.
    Maudie Perry said, “I can’t remember a time when there was so much excitement in Cole Habah. Two deaths, and only days apart. Land a-goshins, first a tycoon on a yacht, and now a dead body washed up on the beach.”
    Phyllis lifted the newspaper. “By Godfrey, I’m proud as a peacock of my niece. Dan never made Cole Harbor sound as interesting as this—” and she read, “Captain Matthias Friday, a lover of history and books, in 1893 donated his home to the town, and it is now The Matthias Friday Library. Captain Friday sailed the Asian and Middle Eastern trade routes, bringing rare spices and exotic silks to—his great-granddaughter, Phyllis Friday—”
    A round of gleeful twitters and applause filled the room. Maudie Perry beamed. “I can hardly wait to see who you feature next, Laura.”
    One of the other ladies spoke up. “You know, I heard Harmon Taylor down at the boat yard say there might be foul play involved in that man’s drowning. You’re a reporter, Laura. What do you think?”
    Laura closed the mystery novel selected for this evening’s discussion. She weighed her words. “I only report the news. It’s up to the sheriff to determine if a crime has been committed. If and when he does, you will be the first to read about it on the front page.”
    Like a tidal wave, the women seated around the table seemed to lean forward with Maudie as the leader. “So foul play is suspected?”
    Laura bit back her amusement. “I didn’t say that, Maudie. As I stated in the article, the wind was high the day Doctor McMahon dropped his sailboat off for repair. But if he didn’t think his small skiff could handle the wind for his five-mile return trip across the bay to Marshwood Island, I’m sure Mr. Taylor would have gladly driven him over in a larger boat. The way it stands now, the skiff flipped and Doctor McMahon drowned.”
    Maudie was quick with her response. “Ah, but therein lies the mystery, Laura. The doctah was wearing a lifejacket. Perhaps his spirit can tell us what really happened. What do you say, ladies, shall we find out?”
    A round of “ayuh” responses