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“No. That was overagesago,” Tosh said firmly.

Ellery sensed he was wandering into perilous territory and groped for a less controversial topic of gossip. “How’s Freddie doing? I heard he landed the role of Detective Bolton onLAPD Blues?”

“Yep. Freddie’s crushin’ it,” Flip said ruefully.

That was the truth. Freddie wasn’t the most talented of their group—Flip was a far better actor—but Freddie had arguably had the most successful career. Partly because he had the kind of studly, blond good looks that worked equally well for bad guysandgood guys.

“He’s going to stay in L.A. permanently?”

Tosh said, “I think so.”

Chelsea gave her an unreadable look.

That was a relationship that had always puzzled Ellery. Not Freddie and Tosh—well, that too—but Chelsea and Tosh. They had roomed together through most of college and even after, once Tosh and Freddie split up. They had never seemed to have much in common, beyond their theatrical ambitions. Now that Tosh worked as director of special events for the Roundelay Theater Group, they might not even have that. But they’d always seemed tight.

Tosh swallowed a mouthful of grog. “It’s funny. This place feels so…familiar. I can’t think what it reminds me of.” Her blue gaze rested on the diamond-paned windows with their blurry view of the rainy street outside and the weathered Georgian style buildings.

Lenny said, “You mean familiar in a déjà vu way?” Revived by food and drink, Lenny was starting to look more like her usual self. That was not to say there was color in her cheeks—there was never color in her cheeks—but she no longer looked ready to swoon into the remnants of her mac and cheese casserole.

“Not exactly. It’s like a play. Cute village full of quirky people who can’t keep their noses out of each other’s business.”

Chelsea’s, “Maybe. But I was thinkingMurder, She Wrote,” got a round of chuckles.

“OrMidsomer Murders?” Flip suggested.

“No. Ellery can’t do accents.”

Case in point. Ellery’s “Oi!” sounded more Brooklyn than British.

Watson, who had heard all the jokes about his village before, groaned from beneath the table.

“Whatever. It’s pretty cozy for the murder capital of the Eastern seaboard.” Tosh asked, “Howdidyou end up getting involved in all those murders, Ellery?”

“Seriously,” Chelsea said. “It’s not like you were a big fan of crime films.”

“I couldn’t even get you to go seeGirl with the Dragon Tattoo.” Flip finished his grog. “And now you’re…what? A P.I.?”

Ellery choked on his drink. “What?No way! No. I don’t know. I just…stumble into things.” He added, “Don’t sayPIin front of Jack.”

The others laughed, which was not reassuring.

“He’s way too modest,” Tom Tulley arrived with a third round of drinks. “How’s the food?”

Everyone lied and assured Tom the food was the best ever.

“You know, it’s supposed to snow on Saturday,” Tom told Ellery.

“That’s what Nora said.”

“It’s what the National Weather Service says.”

“It won’t snow a lot, will it?” Tosh asked uneasily. “We’re not going to get snowed in or anything?”

Tom laughed heartily. “Nah. Not this time of year. Anything else I can get you folks?”

“The check,” Ellery said. “We should get going before the rain gets any worse.”

Tom departed and Ellery finished his drink. The others drank and chatted about the rain and the weather and whether they had brought the right clothes for the weekend. Happily, they seemed to have forgotten about the possible homicidal maniac on the loose.