He gives me an amused, almost smug smile. “Well, that was the story that was printed. They would never publish what really happened.”

“I’m sorry … What ‘really happened’?”

“Thomas Carrington killed himself; he shot himself through the head in the bedroom of his home. Well, I guess it is now your home.”

“What?”

He shrugs. “That was the rumor.”

“It was a hundred and twenty years ago. How could you possibly know that?”

“Mr. Price,” he says, setting his cup down and regarding me as if I’ve now truly insulted his honor in some way. “My family is as old as Kingsbrook, itself. They’ve lived here since the beginning. However, since I don’t have a family, I’m afraid the line stops here, which is why I started the Kingsbrook Historical Society.” He holds out his hands to indicate the entire house. “My family has been witness to everything that has happened in Kingsbrook and that history has been my obsession for decades. I used to beg my grandparents, and especially my great-grandmother, Patricia Fleming, to tell me stories about the town, and in her lifetime, the disappearance of Katherine Carrington and the death of her father were the story of the town.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I apologize. I had no idea.”

He relaxes. “No. I suppose you’re right. It was only gossip.”

“Please, tell me.”

He runs his finger around the rim of his cup as he organizes his thoughts. “Well, as I was saying, my family has lived in Kingsbrook since the beginning. I was born here in 1952, well after all the era that Kingsbrook was a getaway from the wealthy came to an end, but I still loved Kingsbrook. I knew I never wanted to live anywhere else. The town, its people — even from a young age, I was obsessed.”

I desperately need him to get to the point, but I don’t want to interrupt. I wait for him to savor another sip of coffee before continuing.

“When I heard about The Carrington Affair—” he leans in “—that’s what Gran-Gran called it, I had to know everything and she was more than happy to tell me. She was Kingsbrook royalty in her day. She was the daughter of the Mayor … and an unrepentant gossip.” He smiles. “But that was fine with me. I loved hearing her stories.” He chuckles. “Ironic that hearing about Kingsbrook’s ghosts made the town come alive in my imagination.” He picks up his coffee.

“So … what happened?”

“Oh, right, right, right. I’m sorry. There I go, again,” he says, taking another quick sip before setting the cup down. “According to Gran-Gran, Thomas Carrington was not the most respected member of Kingsbrook society.”

“Why not?”