tourists on the old Ocean Alley boardwalk. Back then, prior to the Great Atlantic Hurricane of 1944, the boardwalk was much wider and a pier extended into the ocean. A smiling Mary Doris and Richard Tillotson had their backs to the pier and the old wooden Ferris wheel was visible behind them. Richard’s arm was around her shoulder and her head was tilted slightly toward his shoulder.
I could feel her stare and looked up. “Looks as if that was a happy day.”
“It was. That was only about two months before he disappeared. I used to say “before he died,” but it upset Audrey. Of course, she’s long gone.” She sighed. “You should promise yourself you won’t outlive all your friends.”
I set the framed photo back on her shelf and turned to face her. “So you were pretty sure he didn’t just leave.”
“Positive.” Her strident tone seemed to surprise her as much as me. “Aside from the fact that we were talking about getting married, he and Peter Fisher were fighting like all get-out.” She paused.
“I never told Audrey, but I talked to the police about that at the time. But Peter Fisher was an established man of business, and Richard was known more for tinkering with his old Model T and being a bit tipsy. People said he only had a job at the bakery because Peter dated his sister.” She frowned. “The police thought I was just a girl who’d been jilted and didn’t want to believe he’d simply left.”
“I thought Richard and Peter were in business together.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” She studied me critically. “You’re not writing some book or something, are you?”
“No ma’am. I feel…” I thought for a moment. “I feel as if finding him, assuming it was him, makes me responsible for learning more about him. I know it’s too late to find out what actually happened.” I stopped and looked at her. “You probably think I’m just being nosy.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter what I think. You say you’ll bring those albums?”
“Sure. Tomorrow, if you like.” I glanced around her room. “They aren’t in very good shape, you couldn’t hold them on your lap.”
“I’ll ask the staff to put up a card table in here for a couple of days. Now, fair’s fair. I’ll tell you a bit about Richard.” She leaned back in her recliner and closed her eyes. If Aunt Madge were with me, she’d say we should let her rest and come back tomorrow. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.
She opened her eyes again and smiled, more to herself than to me. “I used to sell taffy in the shop on the boardwalk. They made it there, and people would look through the glass at that noisy machine. It was real taffy, not this dry stuff they sell now. Anyway, Richard came in almost every day to buy a couple of pieces.”
“I was so dumb, I thought he really just wanted taffy.” Her expression brightened. “He finally got up the nerve to ask me if I wanted to go for ice cream with him. He was a bit older than I was, so my parents weren’t too crazy about him at first. But, once they got to know him they liked him a lot.”
I studied her for a few seconds as she paused, a dreamy look on her face.
“We’d go riding in that silly car of his,” she continued. “Every time we went outside of town he got a flat.” She stopped and I sensed she was trying to compose herself.
“There were some old ledgers in the attic too. It looked as if they had a pretty busy bakery.”
She laughed aloud. “They had a bakery and tea shop, but that was just the public part of the business. What they really did was sell whiskey.”
“Whiskey?” I asked, pretending not to know.
Mary Doris laughed. “Your Aunt Madge’s husband knew them well. What was his name?”
“Uncle Gordon. Gordon Richards. Aunt Madge told me he helped his uncle bring in bootlegged whiskey and rum from just offshore. My father calls him Rumrunner Gordon.”
“That’s true. I suppose you could say they were
I could feel her stare and looked up. “Looks as if that was a happy day.”
“It was. That was only about two months before he disappeared. I used to say “before he died,” but it upset Audrey. Of course, she’s long gone.” She sighed. “You should promise yourself you won’t outlive all your friends.”
I set the framed photo back on her shelf and turned to face her. “So you were pretty sure he didn’t just leave.”
“Positive.” Her strident tone seemed to surprise her as much as me. “Aside from the fact that we were talking about getting married, he and Peter Fisher were fighting like all get-out.” She paused.
“I never told Audrey, but I talked to the police about that at the time. But Peter Fisher was an established man of business, and Richard was known more for tinkering with his old Model T and being a bit tipsy. People said he only had a job at the bakery because Peter dated his sister.” She frowned. “The police thought I was just a girl who’d been jilted and didn’t want to believe he’d simply left.”
“I thought Richard and Peter were in business together.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.” She studied me critically. “You’re not writing some book or something, are you?”
“No ma’am. I feel…” I thought for a moment. “I feel as if finding him, assuming it was him, makes me responsible for learning more about him. I know it’s too late to find out what actually happened.” I stopped and looked at her. “You probably think I’m just being nosy.”
She shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter what I think. You say you’ll bring those albums?”
“Sure. Tomorrow, if you like.” I glanced around her room. “They aren’t in very good shape, you couldn’t hold them on your lap.”
“I’ll ask the staff to put up a card table in here for a couple of days. Now, fair’s fair. I’ll tell you a bit about Richard.” She leaned back in her recliner and closed her eyes. If Aunt Madge were with me, she’d say we should let her rest and come back tomorrow. I didn’t want to wait until tomorrow.
She opened her eyes again and smiled, more to herself than to me. “I used to sell taffy in the shop on the boardwalk. They made it there, and people would look through the glass at that noisy machine. It was real taffy, not this dry stuff they sell now. Anyway, Richard came in almost every day to buy a couple of pieces.”
“I was so dumb, I thought he really just wanted taffy.” Her expression brightened. “He finally got up the nerve to ask me if I wanted to go for ice cream with him. He was a bit older than I was, so my parents weren’t too crazy about him at first. But, once they got to know him they liked him a lot.”
I studied her for a few seconds as she paused, a dreamy look on her face.
“We’d go riding in that silly car of his,” she continued. “Every time we went outside of town he got a flat.” She stopped and I sensed she was trying to compose herself.
“There were some old ledgers in the attic too. It looked as if they had a pretty busy bakery.”
She laughed aloud. “They had a bakery and tea shop, but that was just the public part of the business. What they really did was sell whiskey.”
“Whiskey?” I asked, pretending not to know.
Mary Doris laughed. “Your Aunt Madge’s husband knew them well. What was his name?”
“Uncle Gordon. Gordon Richards. Aunt Madge told me he helped his uncle bring in bootlegged whiskey and rum from just offshore. My father calls him Rumrunner Gordon.”
“That’s true. I suppose you could say they were
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