Ray slowly rolled through the three-block long business district of the Harbor Village. Most of the brick buildings lining both sides of the street were constructed after the great fire of 1906. Once a thriving mercantile hub for farmers, lumbermen, and sailors, the stores now catered to the tourist trade with windows filled with t-shirts, sandals, summer frocks, and regional art—seascapes in oil and watercolors. The summer people and tourists were already filling the streets, heading to the coffee shops, the bakery, and restaurants in search of breakfast. A few blocks away from the lake, a series of widely spaced, single-story structures—most constructed of cement block—housed auto and marine repair facilities and the shops and businesses of the local tradesmen. Ray pulled onto the blacktop lot in front of North Lakes Electrical and Fire Equipment. He sat in the car for a few minutes, not wanting to interrupt the final movement of Schubert’s Trout Quintet.
