Cottage on Gooseberry Bay: A Christmas Memory by Kathi Daley

Author:Kathi Daley [Daley, Kathi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kathi Daley Books
Published: 2022-12-05T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

By the time we all met up at the cottage, it was past noon. Josie decided to set some snacks out, although, if truth be told, I was still stuffed from the large breakfast we’d consumed. Still, the fresh fruit, veggies with dip, and cheese slices with thick crackers did look inviting. Deciding to start small, I picked up an apple slice and began to nibble on one end.

“Okay, so Orson quit the Gooseberry Bay Gazette in two thousand ten,” Jemma said. “That seems the best place to begin.”

“He would have needed to leave a forwarding address with the Gazette,” Parker said. “They always ask for an address to send tax forms and whatnot.”

“Exactly,” Jemma agreed as she continued to type. “It will take a few minutes, but I should be able to hack into the Gazette’s system. Once I do, I’ll try to access Walberg’s employee file.” She continued to type.

“When did you start at the newspaper?” Josie asked Parker.

“Not until two thousand twelve. I never met Walberg, but after thinking about it a bit, I do remember Gibbs talking about him.” Samuel Gibbs was a reporter who worked at the newspaper for more than two decades before passing away a few years ago. “Gibbs used to refer to him as The Wall. I never even asked who The Wall was, but I remember the tales Gibbs told about The Wall chasing a story until he found his answers, no matter how long it took.”

“Wouldn’t Ash have been around back then?” I asked. “Since he’s the managing editor, I guess I figured that he must have worked for the Gazette for quite a while.”

“Ash started with The Seattle Times. He didn’t decide to take the job in Gooseberry Bay until two thousand fifteen when Marino Townsend retired. He brought his son, Axel, into the fold in two thousand eighteen, so neither man would remember Gibbs.”

“But it sounds as if Townsend would,” Josie said.

“He would. I’m not sure where he is now, however. The last I heard, he was heading to Fairbanks, Alaska, to write a novel.”

“Okay, I’ve got something,” Jemma said. “Orson Walberg left a post office box as a forwarding address.”

“A post office box where?” I asked.

“Nogales, Arizona,” Jemma informed us. “According to his employee file, his year-end tax statement was sent to the post office box, but no other correspondence was ever sent there.”

“I guess we can do a search for Orson Walberg in Nogales, Arizona, and see what turns up,” Parker suggested.

Jemma continued to type.

“Any idea why Walberg would head to Nogales?” I asked Parker.

“No, as I said, I never met the man,” Parker answered. “There are folks in town who would have been around back then who might have known Walberg and what he did after leaving the area.”

“Adam would have been living in the area back then,” I said. “I’ll give him a call and see what he knows.”

“Hope would have been here as well,” Parker said, referring to Hope Masterson, the owner of the Rosewood Inn and the cottages we leased.

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