Chapter Nine
The Olde Salt Saloon was one of the oldest structures on the boardwalk, an original fish house dating from early in the last century. An earthquake and subsequent shifts in the ground had given it an off-kilter slant, and its cedar shingles had been hammered by winter storms. By now the poor building looked as if it had been constructed by drunk carpenters.
Which, quite possibly, it had been.
Inside, the low ceiling sagged so much that taller customers had to duck. The walls were covered with old photos and newspaper clippings and posters from various events over the years. It was a historian’s dream.
The lights were kept very low in the Olde Salt—no doubt because of what full illumination would reveal. Old ship lanterns swung from the ceiling, occasionally bonking people
