Page 13 of Starfish Cottage
Maddie paused just inside the door of Saltwater Sweets and took a deep breath of the chocolate-spiced air.
Deena and Chuck stood at a table behind the counter, a river of melted chocolate spread on the marble surface in front of them.
“You have to keep it constantly in motion,” Deena said as she used a wide metal spatula to spread the chocolate around. She handed the spatula to Chuck. “You try.”
“Looks like fun,” Maddie said.
Deena smiled. “It is. But it’s also an art. Keeping it in motion, spreading and gathering helps stabilize the cocoa butter crystals. You’re doing great, Chuck.”
Chuck flushed at the praise. “It’s kind of soothing, like a meditation.”
Deena pulled off her black latex gloves. “When it gets a little thicker, put it back into the melter. I’ll wait on Maddie.”
Maddie tilted her cell phone up so Deena could see the picture she’d taken of the whisky bottles. “I was hoping to get some more information about Starfish Cottage. I found these in the wall.”
“In the wall?” Deena took the phone. “Is that booze? I don’t know anything about that. Do you think someone in my family put it there?”
“I’m not sure. It looks like there is a label. Maybe from the maker. Dex Wheeler—he’s doing some work on the cottage—thought it might have been hidden by a bootlegger.”
Deena’s brows shot up. “How fascinating. I don’t remember anything about a bootlegger in the family.”
“Can I see the picture?” Chuck yelled. Apparently the chocolate had thickened enough for him to put it back in the melter, because the table had been scraped clean. He hadn’t gotten all of it in the melter, though. He was wearing a good portion of it. His apron was smeared with chocolate, his hands were brown with it, and he even had some in his gray hair.
Deena laughed. “Maybe I should have showed you the technique to putting the chocolate back.”
“No worries.” Chuck licked a dab off his finger before pulling off his latex gloves and joining them at the counter. He tilted his head to see the image on the phone.
“I know what that is,” he said.
“You do?” Maddie felt excited.
“Yeah.” Chuck smiled as he slipped on a pair of reading glasses. “That’s the signature mark for Marco Rosone. He was a famous bootlegger back in the twenties. You found these in the wall at the cottage?”
Maddie nodded.
“That’s quite a find,” Chuck said.
Deena beamed up at him proudly. “Chuck is a very successful historian.”
“So, you know a lot about this bootlegger?” Maddie asked.
“Sure. He’s kind of a cult figure in some circles. Was very flamboyant, and of course, there is a mystery revolving around him. He worked out of New York City, but the Feds were after him, and he disappeared. No one ever figured out where he went.”
Visions of D. B. Cooper bubbled up. There were festivals about him. Maybe she could have a festival about Marco Rosone right here in the place he might have disappeared to while running from the Feds!
“Do you think he might have disappeared to Shell Cove?” Maddie asked.
Chuck shrugged. “Could be. How else would his whisky get in your walls?”
Maddie turned to Deena. “Do you remember your family talking about a bootlegger?” Would she need more proof that he really did live in Shell Cottage in order to attract people to a town event?
Deena thought for a few seconds. “I vaguely remember some mention of parties back then. I never connected it with Prohibition, even though the talk was a bit hush-hush. No one ever mentioned a bootlegger in the family, but our family didn’t sell the cottage until the 1970s, so I guess there must be some connection.”
Chuck laughed. “Guess Etta Harper had more going on than just founding this chocolate shop.”
“No kidding.” Deena laughed. “I do remember hearing that she was a bit of a rabble-rouser.”
“So what are you going to do with the whisky?” Chuck asked.
