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“Nope,” Ellery replied. “Greta’s Gourmandery is handling all the food and Dylan’s volunteered to play bartender.”

That was a major concession on Dylan’s part, given that he’d barely spoken a word to Jack since September. Ellery was hoping that the combination of good food, good company, and enough alcohol might result in, at the least, détente between two of his favorite people.

He held the door against the wind as his friends filed out. Book pages rustled noisily. The framed paintings of pirate ships rocked back and forth on the wall, as if the galleons were truly on the windswept ocean. Ellery raised his hand in farewell.

A hard gust slammed the door, cutting off Nora’s cheery, “See you Satur—!”

Chapter Three

“I guess we could have picked a time of year with better weather,” Chelsea was saying.

An hour after leaving the Crow’s Nest, Ellery and his friends were cozily settled in front of the giant fireplace at the Salty Dog. The pub was nearly empty on that damp and chilly November afternoon, which was one reason Watson was allowed to curl up beneath their table, head resting on Ellery’s boot. They were just finishing their lunches and a second round of drinks; everyone seemed to be pleasantly tired and very relaxed.

“We had to be invited,” Tosh pointed out.

“It’s not that I didn’t want company,” Ellery protested. “The house wasn’t in any kind of shape for guests. It was barely livable. The roof was disintegrating. Windows were falling out of their frames. The plumbing was…alarming.”

Flip said, “I believe it, going by those first photos you sent.”

“Plus, you had all those murders to solve,” Lenny teased.

Ellery smiled weakly. “Not really.”

“And Brandon, of all people. That was just crazy.”

Yes, that had been pretty crazy. For a lot of reasons.

Chelsea said to Flip, “I don’t know why you sayof all people, because if anybody was going to wind up getting murdered, it was Brandon.”

Flip frowned. “Kind of harsh, Chels, don’t you think?”

“No. I don’t. You know the kind of thing he wrote. Pure psycho bait.”

“Since when are you a literary critic?” Flip’s smile was teasing, but Chelsea looked unamused.

A sudden gust of wind seemed to shake the old building. No one spoke for a moment, which was just as well. Thiswas one conversation Ellery didn’t want to have. But then again, Brandon had been at Tisch with them. It was inevitable someone would bring up the subject of his death.

“Is Belle really going to marry an English peer?” Ellery tried to direct the conversation to safer waters.

At the same moment, Chelsea said, “Are there really secret passages in your house?”

“Ellery doesn’t want us to know about his secret passages,” Lenny joked.

“I’m the one whotoldyou about my secret passages. Anyway, secret passages aren’t that much of a secret on this island. All the old buildings seem to have them. I’m happy to show you mine.”

Flip wiggled his eyebrows but made no comment. Ellery and Flip had dated a couple of times—that was before Ellery met Brandon—but the relationship had never gone anywhere. Probably because Flip was a very decent guy and, until Jack, Ellery had always, infallibly, migrated toward jerks.

Tosh said, “In answer to your question, yes. Belle says she’s going to marry Viscount Hate.”

“It’s pronounced Hat,” Chelsea corrected her.

“Is it?”

Ellery said, “That’s so crazy. I really thought she and Oscar were going to wind up getting hitched.”

“Belle and Oscar?”Tosh seemed startled. “That was over ages ago.”

“I know, but they seemed... Well, I guess I don’t know.”