“Educational,” said Maggie. “But I didn’t find out anything absolutely critical. I liked Ike’s wife more than I thought I would. Tell you what: why don’t we go and have lunch? If it’s open, there’s a place a lot of the fishermen around here eat. Not exactly gourmet, but it would be a bit of local color.”

“Do I sense another mission in the offing?” Will asked.

“Perhaps,” said Maggie. “But we do have to eat somewhere. Why not try this place? I’ve been there once, but just for a beer.”

“You don’t like beer,” said Will, raising his eyebrows.

“I’m flexible, remember?” said Maggie.

“What’s the name of this fantastic local establishment?”

“The Lazy Lobster.”

“A Mainer does not eat lobster on the Cape,” said Will, tapping her lightly on the head in reprimand.

“They have hamburgers, too,” said Maggie.

“With blue cheese and bacon?”

“It’s possible,” she said, as they headed out. The wind had picked up, and there was spitting rain in the air. But Hurricane Tasha was still 250 miles south of Cape Cod.

They had plenty of time.

Chapter 33

Rip Van Winkle at the Village Tavern.Wood engraving from Harper’s Weekly, September 20, 1873, by Felix Octavious Carr Darley (1822-1888), who usually signed his work F.O.C. Darley. He was the first well-known American illustrator and provided pictures for books by Cooper, Irving, Dickens, Hawthorne, Poe, Stowe, among others, during the first half of the nineteenth century. This engraving is based on one he did earlier for Washington Irving’s Rip Van Winkle. It shows shiftless Rip, beer mug in hand, being routed out by Dame Van Winkle. Other patrons of the tavern include an obese gentleman smoking an extremely long clay pipe, a boy reading a newspaper, and Rip’s dog, Wolf, his tail between his legs, who knows it’s time to head for home. 9 x 11.75 inches. $75.

The Lazy Lobster was not only open, it was full. Of course, Maggie remembered. Fishing boats were not out. Harbormasters had required them to be dry-docked yesterday.

The storm was closing in, and most men in the Lazy Lobster had either finished storm-proofing their homes and those of their neighbors, or were taking a quick break before returning to their tasks.

One flat-screen TV above the bar was tuned to the Weather Channel. The other was focused on NECN, New England Cable News. Both stations alternated weather maps and scenes of crashing surf, trees bent over in the wind, and scrolling words warning that Hurricane Tasha was moving steadily northeast, and had diminished very little in power.

“Table today?” said a pert young woman who hadn’t been visible during Maggie’s previous visit. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she wore her white LAZY LOBSTER T-shirt proudly, and scooped low enough to hint at barely hidden cleavage.

“We’d prefer the bar, if there’s room,” said Maggie.

“You don’t usually like to sit at the bar,” Will said, as they followed their hostess to two stools at the far end.

“I like this one,” said Maggie. “We can see the weather reports better from here,” she added, guilelessly.

“Right,” said Will. “How could I forget your new-found addiction to the Weather Channel?”

“A girl can never hear too much about the weather. Especially when there’s a hurricane in the offing.” Maggie smiled.

“Nice to see you again, Maggie from New Jersey,” said Rocky. “What can I get you today? Another Sam Adams?”

“Sounds good. And the fried Wellfleet oysters,” said Maggie, pointing at the menu behind the bar.

Will ordered a Narragansett and a blue cheeseburger, extra rare, with bacon.

“You just ordered a coronary,” Maggie pointed out.

“Your fried oysters aren’t the healthiest choice in the world,” Will retaliated. “Especially since you added fries to your order when you thought I wasn’t listening. Now, what are we really here for?”

“I’m not sure,” Maggie said, under the noise of the crowd. “But Dan Jeffrey worked here sometimes. And Bob Silva, the guy who owns the hardware store, said the bartender here knows a lot about what happens in town.”

The waitress slid their lunch plates in front of them with a quick “Enjoy!”

“Speedy service, anyway,” said Will.

“Notice anything unusual about this place?” said Maggie.

“You and the waitress are the only females in here?”

“Right. And everyone’s a waterfront sort. No lawyers or bankers, at least by the look of them.”

“I’d say you’re right. Wide age spread, too. I’d guess from about sixteen—too young to be legally drinking and probably should be in school—up to the old guy in the corner. Maybe in his eighties?”

“Today schools may have closed early. But the afternoon I was here some high school kids came in, too.”

Will frowned. “Not a good sign. Even if kids aren’t ordering alcoholic drinks, towns usually frown on them hanging out in dives like this. Most proprietors throw them out. They don’t want to get in trouble with the parents or police. We had a place like this near the school where I taught in Buffalo. Ended up being closed down.”

“Because?” said Maggie, taking another bite of her oysters.

“The kids weren’t there to buy the beer and pizza. Or even just the pizza. The owner had another business going on the side.”

“The kids were buying drugs with their pizza.”

“Bingo.”

Maggie looked around. “What do you think about that possibility here?”

Will looked at her. “I have no idea. But if that’s even a small possibility you don’t talk about it here. You finish your oysters and fries, you smile, you leave a nice tip, and you get out.”

“You are such a smart man, Will Brewer,” said Maggie. “These are really good oysters, by the way. Nice and fresh. Want a bite?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Chapter 34

Trouble Somewhere.James Montgomery Flagg (1877-1960) illustration, 1900. Woman sitting alone and aloof in expensive car of the period, as man in fur coat stands, defeated, head down, by the side of the road. The hood of the car is raised, exposing the engine, and Cupid is standing on the car’s wheel, looking into the motor and holding a wrench. James Montgomery Flagg sold his first illustration when he was twelve. By the time he was fifteen he was on the staff of the original Life Magazine, published from 1889-1936 until it was purchased by Henry Luce. Other illustrators saw their jobs as stepping stones to fine art. Flagg wanted to illustrate, and did so all of his life. He’s best remembered for the World War I poster he did of Uncle Sam pointing at the viewer, saying, “I Want YOU for the U.S. Army.” 12 x 17 inches. Price: $60.

“The burger and beer were fine in that place,” said Will, as they drove out of the Lazy Lobster’s parking lot. “But your oysters were definitely the best choice. I also could have done without everyone’s staring at us and wondering why we were there. Especially since I wasn’t sure myself. Now, where to? And what’s all this sudden interest in drugs?”

“Last spring, a boy here, the teenaged son of the owner of the hardware store where we bought the plywood yesterday, died of an overdose. The town pretty much freaked out. Everyone blamed everyone else.”

“Did they find the dealer?”

“No. But the boy’s father blamed Diana’s father. His rationale was that Dan was new in town and he helped out with one of the kids’ baseball teams. It got to the point that there was a fight—in the Lazy Lobster. The police broke it up, and after that Dan Jeffrey didn’t work at the Lobster, or at any of his other local jobs.”

“Pretty hard for the guy if he lost his jobs, especially if he wasn’t to blame for the drugs.”

“Right. And no one was ever arrested, so I’m assuming there wasn’t proof to charge him. Or anyone else.”

“Are the drugs still around?”

“Not so much. Or they’ve learned to keep it quieter. But drugs never go away, do they?”