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“Send him right back!” Joey called. “I want to keep him for a pet.”

The large woman laughed merrily and glared at Ellery.

Uh-oh.

Ellery stepped into the gleaming hallway, which reeked of that distressing disinfectant-meets-plastic-tropical-flower fragrance.

“I’m Frances Crane, the director of Sunset Shores. I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,Mr. Parker.”

The emphasis onMr. Parkerleft Ellery in no doubt that Ms. Crane knew he was using an alias. Which, from her perspective, probably seemed a little sinister.

He tried to explain. “Honestly, I don’t mean Mrs. Franklin any harm. We’re just chatting.”

Ms. Crane snapped, “Mrs. Franklin is not well enough to receive visitors.”

“She’s not? She seems okay. I wasn—”

“Oh?And are you now also a doctor in addition to being an author and movie star?”

Ouch. Worse than he’d thought.

“I’m definitely not a movie star,” Ellery protested. “Look, Ms. Crane—”

“No,youlook. And it’sMrs.Crane.”

“Mrs. Crane, I think we’ve started off on the wrong foot.”

“If you’re referring to yourlyingto my staff and patient, then yes, we’ve most definitely started off on the wrong foot.”

“I apologize for using my pen name. I did check in at the front desk. It’s not like I sneaked in here in the dead of night.”

“The front desk made a mistake in agreeing to your request. Mrs. Franklin is not well enough for visitors.”

“Mrs. Franklininvitedme to visit.”

“Mrs. Franklin is not well enough for visitors,” Mrs. Crane repeated in an I-could-do-this-all-day tone of voice.

“All visitors or just me?”

Mrs. Crane smiled tightly. “Will you leave voluntarily, or must I phone the police?”

Two thoughts occurred to Ellery. First, he was not going to win this battle. In fact, with every word out of his mouth, he was probably making matters worse. Second, he really,reallydid not want Jack receiving a phone call that his boyfriend was harassing old ladies in nursing homes.

Ellery replied straight off Kingston’s script. “Again, I apologize for overstepping. Good afternoon.” If he’d had a bowler hat, he’d have doffed it to her. As it was, he merely skedaddled.

Chapter Eleven

Tackle Shandy was sitting on the front steps when Ellery arrived home that evening. A large white box rested on the pavement beside him.

“Just what I need,” Ellery muttered to his copilot.

It had been a long day. A busy day and, from a sleuthing, if not bookselling perspective, a good day, but long. After he’d locked up at the Crow’s Nest, he’d gone grocery-shopping to pick up everything he needed to make Jack a really terrific supper. It was going to be a long night too, which he looked forward too, naturally, but hewastired. He didn’t have the patience or energy for another run-in with anyone, let alone a gorilla like Tackle. And he couldn’t imagine any other purpose of a visit from Tackle.

Ellery parked and got out, leaving Watson safely inside the vehicle—a consideration Watson did not AT ALL appreciate, judging by the increasingly outraged tenor of the yips and cries that followed Ellery across the drive.

“Can I help you?” he called.

“You installed a security system.” Tackle grinned hugely at what he imagined was a private joke.