Page 12
Story: Corpse at Captain's Seat
The fact that they all found that hysterical was probably a testament to Tom Tulley’s tendency toward a heavy pour.
Ellery, fortunately for all, had stuck to one beer. He started the VW. Watson tried to make a break for the front seat, but was restrained by three pairs of hands. All the sweet wordsand petting could not distract from the wrongs being done him. He began to yip with increasing vehemence, his protests sounding even louder than usual in the confined space.
As they hit the cobbled streets of Pirate’s Cove, Watson reached air raid siren amplification.
Ar-ar-oooooo! Ar-ar-arooooo! AR-AR—
“Yikes,” Tosh said. “Home, James. And don’t spare the horses!”
Chapter Four
They were still arguing over Ellery’s record for parking tickets acquired in one year when Captain’s Seat came into view.
“Holy…” Flip’s voice gave out. “Is thatit?”
There was an instant and respectful silence at the rainswept vision of 18thCentury architectural absurdity. Lights blazed from the many windows, and the blue-black granite exterior seemed to glow against the stormy skies. Even Watson, who had been relentless in his petition for an upgrade to first class, seemed to pause for breath.
Ellery nodded. “Home, sweet home.”
“Wow.” That was Tosh. “That is…”
“Totally extra,” Ellery said. “I know.”
Chelsea said, “It’sthreestories?”
“I mean, not really. The third story is mostly just attic and weird little rooms that I think were used as servants’ quarters. It’s not even heated.”
“Is it haunted?” Lenny asked. “Because it looks haunted.”
“Well…”
The others laughed, but Ellery was reserving judgment on that last question. The house had its eccentricities, no doubt.
“You could make a killing renting out that top level,” Chelsea was saying. “The crew on the ship over was complaining about how the housing prices over here are totally out of control.”
“Real estate’s at a premium on the island.” Ellery couldn’t argue with that. “But other than the wiring, the top level hasn’t been renovated at all. I don’t even like to go up there. It’s pretty creepy.” Which was true. But also, he had zero desire to be anyone’s landlord. He liked his privacy. And, more important, Jack liked his privacy.
Captain’s Seat loomed ever larger in the rain speckled windshield as they drew near.
Chelsea said, “If you were to sell—”
“I would never sell. Captain’s Seat has been in my family since the 1700s.”
Ellery said it firmly, which was funny given that he’d arrived on Buck Island convinced he would do that very thing. Now, nine months later, he was talking like Belle’s viscount.
Watson, who had barely let up on the backseat driving since leaving Pirate’s Cove, reached full crescendo as Ellery pulled into the small front courtyard that served as the parking area. His passengers gawped at the fanciful Dutch gables, stained-glass windows, and twin conical-shaped rooftops.
“Be it ever so humble,” Flip said.
Ellery glanced back at Tosh, Chelsea, and Lenny. “Should I get a crowbar?”
Chelsea said, “For the love of God. Open the door. For the love of God—”
“It’s going to be like opening a can of snakes,” Tosh warned. “Open the door and stand clear.”
“I can’t feel my legs,” Lenny moaned.
Ellery and Flip hastily opened their doors and got out. Watson scrambled into the front seat, leaped to the ground, and shook himself indignantly. Flip assisted Chelsea as Ellery shoved his seat forward and helped Tosh out. She was swearing colorfully as she unfolded from the back.
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