Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
The phrasing struck Lily as oddly formal, almost rehearsed. She set down her teacup. “Of course. I’m approaching this from a purely academic perspective. It’s fascinating how national policies affected small communities.”
“Indeed.” Mrs. Pennington’s shoulders relaxed fractionally. “If you’re interested in that period, Walter Henley might prove helpful. He’s ninety-three and still sharp. His family has fished these waters for generations.”
“Would he be willing to speak with me?”
“I could telephone him. Walter enjoys discussing the old days, and he possesses stories that never found their way into official records.”
An hour later, Lily walked down Harbor Street toward the docks, where Captain Henley had agreed to meet her at Murphy’s Tackle Shop. The afternoon sun slanted low across the water, and Westerly Cove’s harbor buzzed with returning fishing boats.
She found Captain Henley sitting on a bench outside the tackle shop, a weathered man with bright blue eyes and hands that spoke of decades working with rope and nets. He wore a wool sweater despite the mild weather and a cap that had seen considerable wear.
“You must be Robert Morgan’s girl,” he announced, rising to shake her hand. “I can see the resemblance. Your father’s a good man—keeps that lighthouse running smooth.”
“Thank you for agreeing to talk with me, Captain Henley. Mrs. Pennington mentioned you might remember stories about the lighthouse from when you were young.”
“Oh, I remember plenty. Grew up right here on the harbor. My father and grandfather both fished these waters.” He settled back onto the bench and patted the space beside him. “What exactly do you want to know?”
Lily leaned forward, ready to take notes. “Captain Henley, I found something specific in the lighthouse records. In December 1923, the lighthouse authority transferred Keeper Thompson and brought in someone new. Right after Thompson had spent months documenting smuggling activity. Does that timing mean anything to you?”
The old man’s eyes sharpened. "Thompson. Now that's a name I haven't heard in decades." He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "My father knew Thompson. Said he was an honest man, maybe too honest for his own good."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, after Edmund Hawthorne died in that storm, they brought Thompson in as the new keeper. But according to my father, Thompson kept reporting what he saw to the harbor master, the sheriff, anybody who'd listen. Problem was, half those folks received payment to not listen, if you catch my meaning. The Aldrich family had their fingers in a lot of pies back then."
Lily scribbled notes as fast as she could write. "The Aldrich family?"
"Oh yes, they ran the operation. Old Gerald Aldrich and his crew. They had arrangements with local authorities, and made sure everyone looked the other way when convenient."
"So they removed Thompson to protect the Aldrich operation?"
"Transferred him to Portland, where he couldn't cause trouble. Poor Edmund had been asking too many questions before his 'accident,' and then Thompson turned out to be just as nosy. The new fellow—what was his name? Williamson?—he understood the situation better. Kept his logs focused on weather and navigation, and stayed out of the Aldrich family's business."
Lily scribbled notes as fast as she could write. “The Aldrich family?”
“Oh yes, they ran the operation. Old Gerald Aldrich and his crew. They had arrangements with local authorities, ensuring everyone looked the other way when convenient.”
“So they removed Thompson to protect the Aldrich operation?”
“Transferred him to Portland, where he couldn’t cause trouble. The new fellow—what was his name? Williamson?—he understood the situation better. Kept his logs focused on weather and navigation, and stayed out of the Aldrich family’s business.”
“Is the Aldrich family’s business being smuggling?”
Captain Henley chuckled. “Miss Morgan, you have to understand something about that time. Prohibition might have been federal law, but it wasn’t popular law. Local folks elected the sheriff, and local folks didn’t much care if someone wanted a drink after a hard day’s work. The Aldriches provided a service.”
Lily flipped to a fresh page. “Captain Henley, what ended the Aldrich smuggling operation? The records just . . . stop mentioning it after 1924.”
The old man grew quiet, his gaze focusing on something far beyond the harbor. “That’s where the story gets complicated. My father always claimed there was trouble in the late twenties. Something that made the whole operation too dangerous to continue.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Money, most likely. Or territory. These things usually come down to one or the other.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “My father mentioned that some folks went missing around that time. People who knew too much about how the Aldrich operation worked.”
Lily’s pen froze on the page. “Missing?”
“Oh, this is all old gossip, you understand. The kinds of stories that get passed down and probably grow in the telling. But there were rumors that some of the people involved in the Aldrich smuggling operation disappeared. Boats found empty, that sort of thing.”