Time had swept by as Marty told me stories about Port Danby. I could have listened to him all night.
"Should we have one more slice of cake before looking at more pictures?" he asked.
I patted my stomach. "I think I've had my limit, but please, don't let me stop you."
Marty put his glasses back on and adjusted them on his nose. "No, I think I've reached my limit as well." He leaned into the box. "Ah ha, here is a picture of my mother and father standing with Mayor Harvard Price."
I instantly recognized the rotund man with the imperial chin lift. "When did your father die? You haven't talked much about him."
Marty's gaze dropped behind his glasses. "Yes, my father died when I was just seven. His fishing boat got caught in a squall, and the vessel sank, taking my father with it."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. You were so young. It's good you had such a marvelous, energetic mother."
His smile returned but it was still edged with sadness. It was so long ago, but I was sure he still remembered every detail of that terrible day as if it were yesterday. "My mother was energetic and she had to be. I was quite the handful. But we managed, the two of us." He looked at the picture again. "My mother never liked Harvard Price. She didn't mind his son, Fielding though. I think Harlan takes after his great granddad. So don't take it too personally if the mayor is unfriendly toward you. If you ask me, that Harlan Price is just a grumpy old man. Never could figure out how he got himself elected. He lacks even an ounce of charisma."
I picked up the cup of coffee. It was good and warm on such a chilly night. "Well, from what I've read in my research, the Port Danby mayor position is all part of a family legacy."
"That's true. Harvard Price cemented himself into the position and from there passed the mayoral keys on to his kin. Just like a royal family, I suppose."
The mention of Harvard Price focused me back on my main quest. "Mary Russel mentioned that your mother was very social and that she knew everyone in town."
My comment produced a proud grin. "Indeed, she had so many friends, this house would be filled with people on Sunday afternoon after church. Everyone would stop by with pies and biscuits just to have tea with my mother. She was quite the advice giver, apparently." He laughed. "Not sure if it was always good advice but I suppose there must have been some merit to it if people were willing to hand over perfectly good pumpkin and apple pies."
"I would say so. And if they kept coming back, she must have been handing out solid advice. Was it about marriage issues or health or keeping house?"
"Everything. You name it. I still remember one woman, Mabel was her name. Kept coming back with this terrible toothache and, naturally, my mother was not a dentist. Although, dentistry was nothing short of torture back then with rusty implements and nothing to dull the pain except strong whiskey. My poor mother kept telling her she should go to see the dentist over in Mayfield, but the woman had no money and she was afraid of what he might do. So my mother had the woman sit in one of her kitchen chairs and lean her head back. I was eight years old at the time and curious as heck about what my mother planned to do for poor Mabel. Mother held a gas lantern over the woman's face and stared through a magnifying glass into her mouth." A low chuckle rolled up from his chest as he transported himself back in time. "My mother placed the lantern confidently on the kitchen table and said, 'Mabel, I've got just the thing for you.' Then, with the same confidence, Mother was brimming with it, she marched over to the cupboard where she would store a few treats. She always kept them up too high for me to reach without pulling a chair across the floor." Marty's gray brows danced a little. "Tried that once and couldn't sit down for a week. Anyhow, she dragged over a chair, climbed up and pulled down the tin of salt water taffy she'd made a few weeks earlier for the town fair. She handed Mabel a big lump of the vanilla taffy and told her to chew it on the left side of her mouth, the side with the bad tooth." Marty sat back with a laugh. "I can still remember Mabel's expression." He lifted his fingers and curled them around his eyes like fake glasses. "Eyes as big as saucers. I think she was having second thoughts about relying on my mother for her dental needs. Mother stood there with fists on her hips waiting for Mabel to follow her instructions."
"Did she?" I asked, anxious to hear how the unorthodox dentistry worked.
"She did. Shoved that whole piece in so that the whole left side of her face looked as if she was a chipmunk storing nuts. Her eyes scrunched up in pain." Marty put on a good visual of Mabel trying to eat taffy with a bad tooth. "She chewed and chewed. Then her eyes popped open, and she smiled around that mouthful of candy. Mother knew just what to do. She pulled the wastebasket out from the kitchen pantry and held it out. Mabel spit out the rest of the taffy and the bad tooth came with it. After that, she brought mother and me her special molasses cookies every week for a month."
"Sounds like a nice payment. What a great story. Marty, do you know if your mom knew Jane Price? She was Harvard's daughter from his first marriage. I think she might have been a town treasurer or accountant at some point in time."
Marty tapped his chin. "Jane Price. Jane Price," he repeated. Then his brows hopped up. "You know, I think I've seen her name on one of these old pictures." He hunched over to dig in the box, and I tried to keep from springing off the couch and doing a little happy dance.
"Hmm, let me see," he muttered into the hollow box. "I think it was one of these newer albumen prints." He paused long enough to turn his head over his shoulder. "Can you believe they actually used egg whites to get a clearer picture that wouldn't fade. It worked, too." He turned back into the box. "Yes, let me see." He lifted out a picture. "This is it." He turned it over to read the back. "Yes, Jane Price 1902. I never met her." He handed me the picture. "My mother is on the right. Jane is the one holding flowers."
I brought the picture closer. "Yes, this is her. I've seen a picture of her in a newspaper. She was standing behind her father's desk. From what I read in my research, she left town a few years after this picture was taken."
"Occasionally, my mother and I would take this old box out and go through the collection of photos. I remember asking her about the lady in the picture, Jane Price. She said they were friends and that Jane was the mayor's daughter. She never said why Jane left town though. Of course, I probably never asked."
I stared at the photo a long time, trying to catch all the details, trying to get a sense of the woman and then it occurred to me, the most important detail was staring me right in the face. "She's holding a bouquet of lavender," I said.
Marty looked over at the picture. "Yes, I think my mother told me she used to grow lavender in the field behind the mayor's office. She used it in soap and cooking."
"Interesting," I said as I sat back somewhat flabbergasted. Had I just landed on something big?
"Why is that so interesting? I believe lavender is still used for those same purposes today."
I sat forward again, still clutching the picture. "I should explain. In my research, I've gone through the old trunk in the gardener's shed up at the house."
Marty's forehead crinkled. "Did you now? I thought the trunk was locked."
I smiled coyly. "It was but I found the key. It is filled with Bertram Hawksworth's belongings, including a few love letters from someone called Button. One of the letters had a dried sprig of lavender inside it. It had been preserved there all these years."
"Do you think Jane might have written the letters to Bertram? Maybe the whole thing was a crime of passion." Marty poured another cup of coffee and stirred in some sugar. "Of course, lavender has always grown abundantly in this area."
"I'm sure and it's a commonly used dried flower." The fire had dwindled during our long chat, and without thinking, I rubbed my arms for warmth.
"You're cold. I'll put another log on the fire." Marty, gentleman that he was, hopped up from the couch. (Amazingly well for someone his age. Heck, amazingly well for someone my age.)
"I think I've taken up enough of your time tonight, Marty. I should be on my way." I stood up and leaned over to pick up the pewter tray.
"Oh no, you can just leave that, Lacey. I'll take care of it in the morning." He patted his hand over his mouth to stifle a yawn. "I guess it is rather late. I could reminisce about the past all night long, especially with such an appreciative audience. I must say, most people, particularly young people like yourself, aren't interested in past events and historical details."
I reached for my coat. "I've always loved it. How else can you know anything about the future if you're not tuned in to the past?"
Marty beamed. "I knew I liked you the moment we met." He squinted one eye. "It was on the holiday horse and carriage ride, wasn't it?"
"You remember." I relaxed my shoulders. "Of course you do. Your memory is incredible."
His gray eyes twinkled. "You mean for someone my age."
"No, I mean in general. I wish I had it." I pulled on the coat.
"Well, I have less going on in my life. You're a successful business owner with lots of things going on in that pretty head. Most of my time is spent with my books or puzzles and the tall lady standing next to this house. I liked that you referred to the lighthouse as my tall lady. I know it sounds odd, but I do sometimes feel an extraordinary connection to the lighthouse."
I walked over, hopped on my toes and kissed his cheek. "There is nothing odd about that at all because she is extraordinary."
"I see you appreciate that old tower as much as me." He walked me to the door. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of any more help in your investigation."
I turned to him before walking out. "Are you kidding? This was one of my best research sessions ever. Like you said, maybe it was a crime of passion. That idea intrigues me so much, I'll probably have a tough time sleeping tonight with all the possible theories bouncing around my head."
"Well then, I apologize in advance for your soon to be restless night."
I stepped out on the stoop. "Let's do this again, Marty."
"I would really enjoy that, Lacey. Good night."