It was a cool spring day in New Babbage, Mornington had just finished eating breakfast when a small urchin ran into the hotel carrying a letter.
“ere Mista Goatl…ummm…Morningtun sur! Letter for ya!”
Mornington tipped the urchin and gave him a slice of Pecan pie and watched as the urchin scurried away. The letter was post stamped from Shetland. It was from the estate.
“Dear Mr Mornington-McAndrews
After your last letter was received via the usual route, I took it upon myself to visit the aforementioned Sagrada Lucia tobacco plantation in the time period you specified.
The “Princess” who seems to now be running the island was more than willing to show me around the estate once i produced the black embossed card you presented to me. She has confirmed that the portrait of her great great great grandmother and the benefactor of the island, which is of coure you, had vanished at around the same time that the adventuring party was seen in the are….”
Mornington crumpled up the letter and hurled it into the fireplace, then hammered his hoof through the bar wall and screamed at the top of his lungs…
“EMERSON!”
wondered when that shoe was going to drop.
Junie looked at the crates stacked in a precarious pile under The Gangplank and gave Emerson a sideways glance. ‘Oh yeah, they look safe.’ she said. Then she noticed something behind the crates, some sort of package wrapped in cloth.
‘What’s that?’ she nodded. ‘That,’ said Emerson, ‘is my insurance policy.’