After finding ourselves back on the highway, we reached the main town safe and sound. To think I ran all this way earlier and in the heat. I must have been crazy.

In town we were met with crowds of people setting up tents, sweeping porches and sidewalks, and trimming hedges. A large sign was being lifted over the road that read, WELCOME TO ST. FRANCISVILLE. HOME OF THE ANGOLA PRISON RODEO.

"A rodeo!" I said excitedly as we passed underneath the sign.

"Yes," said Pearl. "Typically every sunday in October the Angola Prison puts on a rodeo. The town gets really busy and a lot of artists come out to set up tents. It's kinda a big deal."

"Oh my god! Tomorrow is the first sunday in October. We have to go."

Pearl squinted her nose.

"No! It's got a bunch of smelly prisoners and farm animals."

"Oh my! Even better!"

Pearl cupped her head in her hands. "You are insane."

We came to stop at a red light where a bunch of fancy dressed women of high society shouted orders at their working husbands.

"A little bit higher, darling," said one to a man on a ladder. "And make sure the rope is taught."

All of them noticed the bright convertible with me in the driver's seat. Their mouths dropped in shock and even the men on ladders glanced over their shoulders in amusement. 

"Sister Mary," said Pearl nudging me and sinking in her seat. "Everyone is staring at us." She peeked over the edge of the car. "And whispering about us."

"They are just jealous wankers," I muttered waving at the crowd. "God bless everyone! What a lovely day!"

The light turned green.

"Go," demanded Pearl covering her face with her jacket. "Sister Mary, the light is green."

I didn't need to be told twice. I slammed my foot on the accelerator and zoomed off leaving the dazed townspeople eating my dust. Pearl, still cowering under her jacket, gave me a seriously judgmental look.

"You are embarrassing!"

"Get used to it, darling. You are in Sister Mary's car now."

Pearl sighed and sat up.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"Well," I said slowing and turning down a narrow street. "We are going to the library. After that I am going to treat you to a lovely bunch of ice cream. What say you?"

"Eh," said Pearl. "Spending the day with crazy you or going to a boring library. Can't decide which sounds more fun."

We soon arrived at the library. The parking lot was empty. Pearl and I exited and walked up to the front door. It was locked.

"Closed?" I said astonishingly.

"It's after five, see." Pearl pointed to her watch then to the hours posted by the door. "They won't be open until tomorrow at ten."

"No, no, no, no, no. I can't wait till tomorrow," I said peeking through the glass window.

"What? You got an overdue book?" joked Pearl glancing through the window with me. The inside was dark and plainly decorated. I leaned back. A return slot poked out of the brick wall by the door.

"There has to be a way inside."

"Sister Mary, the library is closed. We can't go in."

"Nonsense," I said running my hands along the side of the building. "This is important."

"Nothing is worth breaking and entering into a public, government run building. That's illegal."

"Only if you get caught," I winked.

"You are a terrible influence you know?"

"And you need to hush, miss I'm a rebel but also a goodytooshoes. Make up your mind, child. A snitch or a patriot?"

"Alright this was fun. Now let's go home."

"Look," I said arriving at an unlocked window. I poked it open with my umbrella. "Someone forgot to lock up for the evening. Just our luck."

"You can't be seriously considering this," said Pearl as I pulled the small window closed. "This is breaking and entering."

"I'm not going to break anything. It's not my fault they left a window unlocked. Now do me a favor and crawl in there and come unlock the front door. I don't want to get stuck in something again."

"No," said Pearl crossing her arms.

"Please," I pleaded. "Do this for your mother."

"I didn't like my mother."

"Then do it for justice. The coppers have already proved their incompetence."

Pearl sighed. "I can't believe this. I'm listening to a nun telling me to break into a library. I'm going to regret this am I?"

"Not at all."

"Ok. Alright. Get out of the way."

I cheered Pearl on as she lifted herself and reluctantly crawled through the window. A few moments later I heard the front door unlatch and Pearl stick her head out.

"Hey, hurry up."

I sprinted through the door and locked it behind me.

"I can't believe we just did that," said Pearl looking around at the dusty shelves.

"It's thrilling isn't it!" I jumped with joy.

"Thrilling is not the word I would use to describe a library. Guess that Bonnie and Clyde reference wasn't so far off now." Pearl shrugged her shoulders. "Ok. We are inside. Now what?"

"They must have an old archive section." I scanned the signs. "Fiction. Classical fiction. Science fiction. Urban fiction? Goodness."

"Over here," said Pearl. Sure enough in the far corner was a door that said, ARCHIVES.

"Ah, good work."

We opened the door and entered the small room. I flicked on the light. Mountains of papers stacked on tables filled the room. Cardboard boxes with dates and labels rested on the metal shelves. And along the wall was large binders with dates.

"What are we looking for in here?"

"Old newspapers," I responded turning to the large binders. "How long ago was your father's death?"

"He died 14 years ago when I was three."

"That puts us," I said scanning the dates, "at September 29th 1958. Ah ha!" I pulled the heavy binder off the shelf and slammed it on the table. "September 29th," I repeated. "September 29th."

"Here," said Pearl leaning in. "September 29th."

"Hmm," I said skimming the articles. "Susie had a baby girl. Good for her. The church fair went splendidly. Excellent. Oh, and they had cherry pie. Mr. Mayweather says the river has gotten high. Blah. Blah. Blah. Ah ha! Mr. Wilfred Stanton's celebratory gala. Hmm. So your father was to put on a celebration for the town's success. Everyone was invited it seems. Hmm. What's this. A Mr. James Barrnette dies mysteriously after a tree limb fell on him." I continued reading. "Leaves behind his lovely wife, Annette, who plans to move back to Mississippi to live with her mother. Oh my. now this is certainly intriguing. Why would Mrs. Annette stay behind and work for free with Mrs. Stanton if she had plans to leave?"

"Nothing on here talks about father's death."

"Of course not, Pearl. The news is always a day late." I turned to September 30th. "Here the headlines. Beloved Mr. Wilfred Stanton Drowns, Town in Morning." I started reading. "Yesterday the town of St. Francisville was enjoying a blissful night of partying and celebration over the announcing of Wilfred Stanton's run for political office. The party over the water was tragically cut short when around 9:45 PM Wilfred Stanton fell off the the newly built ferry boat and drowned. Witnesses put his wife at the scene shortly after the two had a heated argument. People on the other side of the boat heard screaming and rushed to see Denise Stanton calling out to her husband who by time had completely submerged into the dark water. Rescue efforts were in vain as the river's undertow sucked Wilfred into its depths. His body was found hours later after extensive search near the dock by the ferry." I stopped reading at looked at the picture of Wilfred Stanton. He was well dressed in his black tux and tie. His large mustache curved to his chin and combed hair made him very attractive. It was just like the portrait I saw in the living room. "My my what a shame." I looked at the name of the writer. "Mr. Benjamin Dupont." I flipped back. "He wrote both of the headlines." I flipped a few days after. His name appeared at the bottom of each main article until the date of October 6th. Each article afterword contained the name, Bailey Newport. I flipped to the first few days Benjamin's name did not appear only to discover an article at the bottom of one of the pages. "Benjamin Dupont, Missing. Search Continues." I read the rest. "Benjamin Dupont, head writer of the St. Francisville Democrat, has been missing since Tuesday. Friends and family say he was investigating the possible foul play regarding the death of our town's most beloved entrepreneur. Dupont told his wife he was headed to the office to do some last minute work and left around ten monday night. He never returned. Search parties have been sent out with little luck, and no witnesses report having seen Mr. Dupont. His car was found empty on the side of the highway not far from the Stanton Manor. We hope all is well and Mr. Dupont turns up soon. More on this as the story develops." I flipped page after page after page. Eventually I found an article many months later that said the authorities had given up on finding Mr. Dupont after no leads.

"Pearl," I said closing the binder.

"Yes."

She had been watching over my shoulder. I could see she was thinking the same thing I was thinking.

"Something is not right about all of this. Your father mysteriously dies shortly after Mrs. Annette's husband dies. And to top it off, when this Benjamin Dupont went to investigate, he too mysteriously vanished. I have a sinking feeling that your family is hiding something and whatever it is, someone has found out. That someone killed your mother."

"I never asked many questions about father's death. Guess I was afraid it would make mom mad or upset. Now I'm scared. Am I going to be next?"

"No," I said reshelving the heavy binder. "If anyone is going to vanish mysteriously it's going to be me." I exhaled and patted my gown free of dust. "I just have one more question before we leave here."

"What is it?" asked the anxious Pearl standing by the door. I smiled.

"Do you prefer chocolate or vanilla?"