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“If you knew Alec the way I know him, you wouldn’t be saying this,” said Marigold. She was a formidable woman, with a groove between heavy bristling brows that seemed to have been cut there with a box cutter. She had a square sort of face, and had planted her fists on her hips. Judging both from her stance and her expression, Alec Lip was the devil incarnate in this woman’s view.

“What happened between you and Alec, if I may ask?” said Ted, whose curiosity was obviously piqued, as was the rest of us.

“I’m not going to drag all that up now,” said Marigold. “But if you want to help me, the best thing you can do is to look for my daughter along the route she must have taken home last night.” And she proceeded to describe this route in detail.

“Why don’t you join us?” said Marcie. “We have two dogs and five cats ready to look for your daughter, so our chances are pretty good.”

Marigold darted a quick look at Father Reilly, her employer, and the latter said,“Oh, by all means. You do whatever you need to do to find Angel. I’ll manage here by myself.”

And so our small company had suddenly been expanded with another human, and we set out to the road Marigold said her daughter must have taken. When I glanced back to the church, I saw that Father Reilly was waving us off. And the moment he thought nobody was looking, he took out his phone, and I had an idea that he might be getting in touch with Uncle Alec after all—swearing him to secrecy, not wanting to draw Marigold’s ire.

8

Vesta didn’t much care that her son-in-law tagged along on her lunch hour, though she could guess why he suddenly opted to join her and Scarlett and not spend that hour eating his sandwiches outside on his small patch of city garden as he usually did, accompanied by nothing but a newspaper and his idle thoughts.

“So where is your uncle going to live?” he asked as they walked along.

“He hasn’t decided yet,” said Scarlett. “For now he’s staying in my guest bedroom.”

“I always thought missionaries retired in the monastery they adhered to.”

“That’s certainly an option, though I have a feeling Uncle Malcolm would rather spend his twilight years living by himself instead of in a glorified retirement home.”

They’d arrived at the Star hotel, whose outside dining area was where Vesta and Scarlett liked to spend many an enjoyable hour doing what they did best: people watching. And of course enjoy the superb beverages the Star is rightly famous for.

Scarlett waved to an elderly man Vesta assumed was her uncle, and who was already seated at their usual table, keeping it devoid of other patrons until they arrived.

Malcolm Philan could have easily passed for a sprightly septuagenarian. He had a kindly demeanor, and was dressed in jeans and a colorfulFrom Tahiti With Love sweater.

“Hey, honey,” he said as he gave his niece three smacking kisses on her cheeks, then proceeded to give Vesta’s hand a vigorous shake, and take Tex’s hand in a vicelike grip, making the latter wince. In front of the retired missionary a large glass of beer stood.

“What’s that?” asked Tex as the rest of the company joined Scarlett’s uncle.

“You have got to try this, Dr. Poole,” said Malcolm. “It’s called Trappist, and is brewed by Belgian monks. Very tasty, though not something you want to try on an empty stomach.”

“I’ll have one,” said Tex when the waiter materialized from thin air to take their order.

“So what are your plans?” asked Vesta.

“Well, I thought I’d see the sights first,” said Malcolm amiably. “Scarlett has graciously invited me to visit New York with her next week, and show me the sights, and in the meantime I’ll have to think about this next chapter in my life and how I will fill it.”

“I see you still have all of your hair,” suddenly Tex said, scooting forward in his chair.

“Tex, not now,” said Vesta censoriously.

“No, but it’s remarkable,” said Tex. He looked as if on the verge of reaching out a hand and touching the man’s mane, but managed to restrain himself with a powerful effort.

“Oh, yes,” Malcolm chuckled. “I’m lucky enough to still have all of my hair.”

“Is it… real?” asked Tex in a sort of choky voice that elicited a frown from Scarlett.

“Absolutely. Do you want to touch it?” he asked, correctly interpreting the eager look on the doctor’s face. He bowed his head and allowed Tex to run a hand through the bristle.

“How do you do it?” finally asked the doctor. “What is your secret?”

“Ah, I could tell you but then I’d have to kill you,” the missionary quipped with a grin.

“Okay,” said Tex with a touch of disappointment. He slumped a little in his chair.

“Just kidding, Doc!” said Malcolm, giving Tex a light shoulder punch. “I wash my hair with a special ingredient every morning—something I picked in Tahiti, in fact.”

“What is it?” asked Tex anxiously. The man was practically salivating, Vesta saw.

The aged missionary smiled.“Come here, my boy. And I’ll tell you the big secret.”