Startled, she swooped it up by its strap, her heart pounding, and glanced at the doorway. Lucy Pulver stood there, her head cocked curiously to one side. “You okay, Willie? You look a little pale.” “I’m fine. Just surprised,” Willie admitted. “I didn’t expect to find another Jonathan Raven here. Especially one who looks enough like Dr. Raven to be Dr. Raven.” “You did?” Lucy cocked a dubious eyebrow. “Where?” “Right here.” Willie tapped her finger on the case. Lucy took her glasses out of her apron pocket, put them on and peered at the photograph. “Oh, this one,” she said with a shrug. “There’s a resemblance, I suppose.” “Clean your glasses, Lucy, and look again.” “I’ve seen this picture a hundred times, Willie. Every day when I polish the case. You’re seeing things.” I know that, Willie wanted to shout. Instead she asked, “Isn’t it kind of gruesome to tell people he was murdered?” “Heck, no. The tourists love it. The stocks and the dunking chair on the common are our biggest attractions.”
