“Wait.” Lucy sank onto one of the stools because she wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “The jealous wife was about the whoopie pies? Lavinia wasn’t having an affair with her husband?”
“Oh, there was no affair. Just the sweet temptation of baked goods.”
“I probably listen to too many true crime podcasts, but the obvious move there is blaming the husband. One, he’s the husband. And two, an apothecary is like a pharmacy, right? Lots of poison lying around the place.”
“Lavinia’s husband probably would have gone to prison for murder, but this all happened during high summer, when everybody’s windows were open, so half the town heard Mary yelling at John that she’d gotten rid of Lavinia, so now he could stay home and eat the whoopie pies she made for him.”
“Oh yeah, you gotta close the windows before you confess to murder.”
Willow laughed. “Definitely. And a crowd was gathering, so almost theentiretown heard John tell Mary he’d rather strip naked, coat himself all over with chum and throw himself off a boat into shark-infested waters before he’d eat anything she baked.”
“That’s very…vivid.”
Willow nodded, eyes gleaming with amusement. “I’d tell you the story was embellished over the generations, but Abigail, the teenage daughter of John and Mary’s neighbors, fancied herself a writer and keptverydetailed diaries. They’re kept in a locked case at the library, as a matter of fact.”
Lucy laughed, but then she noticed the photo of Lavinia looked as if it was hanging slightly crooked now and stopped. “Have you ever contacted one of those ghost hunting shows to come in and do an investigation?”
“Nope.” Willow waved her hand at the wall with the photos. “I know what I know, and people who come in either believe or they don’t. But if some so-called experts disproved it, I’d probably have to change my sign because somebody would come in who’d seen the show and scoff, and Lavinia would make one hell of a mess.”
Lucy looked around, puzzled. “I remember we used to come here and your aunt would give us day-old stuff for free. But I don’t remember ever hearing about Jacob and Lavinia.”
“We were very strictly forbidden to talk about them because she was afraid it would be bad for business. I found those pictures in an old safe in the cellar.” She sighed. “Sadly, Jacob’s rum running money was not still in it.”
“Speaking of rum running money, you don’t happen to need any temporary help, do you? I promised Gran I’d stay until she gets back, and I need something to keep me busy.”
“I wish I did, honey. But this business can only support one person—that being me—because I own the building and live upstairs. It won’t support two.” She drummed her fingers on the counter for a moment, until they heard a sound like something falling over in the kitchen. “Sorry. Lavinia hates when I do that.”
“Is she destructive?” Lucy didn’t like the idea of objects being hurled at her if she made an annoying sound.
“No. Lavinia’s just opinionated. I do have to label everything, though. A lot of bakers reach for ingredients from muscle memory, but I have to check labels because things get moved around sometimes. She’ll switch the sugar and salt containers if she’s in a mood. And she tried to switch the cinnamon and chili powder on me once, but I was paying attention.”
“It sounds like she keeps you on your toes.”
“For sure. You know, Billy Loring over at the Uneven Keel might need some help.”
“If the Uneven Keel is a bar, that’s a five-star nautical pun.”
Willow laughed. “Yes on both counts. I heard he’s supposed to have some kind of surgery on his hand soon, and the woman who usually fills in for him is a teacher, so she’s not available until school lets out mid-June.”
“I can try it, I guess.” She sighed. “It seems being Iris Macauley’s daughter’s not great for the résumé.”
Pink darkened Willow’s cheeks. “Yeah, she came up a lot when that whole thing… You know. In Las Vegas.”
“I didn’t know who he was. I didn’t recognize him because I don’t care about sports, and he gave me his middle name.”
Willow’s smile was genuine. “I believe you.”
It was so nice to hear those words, Lucy was afraid she’d cry, so she stood up. “Okay, I’ll go see if Billy Loring holds my mother against me. But I’ll definitely be back. Alot.”
“I’m here from four thirty in the morning to two in the afternoon, every day, though I don’t unlock the front door until six.”
Lucy laughed. “I willnotbe here at six o’clock.”
“Good luck,” Willow called to her as she left.
The Uneven Keel didn’t look like much, even though it was right on the water in the touristy part of town. A long rectangle of a building with gray shake siding, and a sign with its name wrapped around a crooked anchor. But it was right on the shore, and a dock extended out into the water to offer parking for customers who arrived by boat.
Inside, it looked like every ocean-themed bar she’d ever seen on her television screen. A long bar. A bunch of square tables with cheap chairs. A row of booths along the wall opposite the bar. The back wall looked out over the water, with a massive window flanked by two doors. The one on the right led to a small deck that extended to the pier. She assumed the large deck to the left would offer outdoor seating during the season.