Chapter 3: TreasureThe sight of Officer Kevin Kelly having coffee at the counter jolted Tony out of his stupor. Lydia seized her chance to liberate the Flying Wedge's balance due. She ran up Main Street, cash in hand, just before the Congregational Church's bells struck twelve: closing time for the bank, starting time for the Back End's noon rush. Almost time for her favorite customer to arrive.
Off Cape, Edgar Rowdey was renowned as the probably British, probably dead, definitely weird author of creepy little black-and-white storybooks. To Quansett he was a kind-hearted old eccentric. Lydia lived in his guest cottage, and she could testify that while Edgar’s heart was kind, and his thin frame and white beard bore a slight resemblance to George Bernard Shaw's, he was neither British nor d
