My writing partner posted a bit of our newest research with a taunt - but no explanation. Meanie. I mean he could have told them more of what we found. If it were up to the pixies, we wouldn't have posted that much. Let 'em stew ...
Good research, boys, that's what it's all about ... and connecting the dots. I'm reading a pile of articles by a guy named Stetson. Good writer, in a cranky old man sort of way. As far as I can see, no researcher in our field has read them.
The bad boys from Brooklyn are back on our history blog, but they didn't use the official ISP. I promised not to bring me sloop around and cross the T off their stern and fire me guns if they didn't use the "official" ISP. But I didn't promise not to throw rocks. ...
Are they so dense as to think that merely switching to a commercial ISP (in this case Roadrunner) is enough to disguise their visits? You leave a trail. It leads to your front door. STOP IT. Shoo! Go away!
As far as the chubby, bald-guy's tease goes. Let them figure the rest out. They can read it all in our book when it's finished.
We still have thousands of pages to read. Key figures - Meyers, Storrs, Stetson, Barbour, both the Reeds, Thomas Wilson - all show up in this material. The clues were there to follow. No one followed them. Not my fault.
One thing that really interests me, though it will be no more than a footnote in the book is who H. V. Reed's daughter was. Ever read Arsnic (umm i mean Arsenic) and Old Lace? She wrote it.