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There were several meaningful exchanges of glances at this information.

Ellery said quickly, “Before you ask, I don’t know anything more than that. Jack had me wait in his SUV while he stayed with the body.”

There were little shivers of delighted horror all around, and then Nora said, “Perhaps it’s a good thing you came in today. There was a rather weird message for you on the answering machine this morning.”

They all gazed at him expectantly, so he had no doubt they already knew—had discussed—what he was about to hear.

Ellery said, “Okay. I’ll have a listen.”

He left Watson to be petted and fussed over, went into the office, and pressed Play.

A loud and unfriendly male voice announced, “Mr. Page, this is James Franklin. Frances Crane at Sunset Shores contacted me regarding that little stunt you pulled this afternoon. What kind of man takes advantage of a sick, old woman? If youevertry to contact my mother again, I’m informing the police!”

The phone slammed down.

Ellery winced. Yikes. He played the message again, but there was no mistake. James Franklin’s voice shook with rage as he threatened legal action. What the heck did he think Ellery had been getting up to with Mrs. Franklin? What the heck had Mrs. Crane told him?

Before this misunderstanding went any further, Ellery needed to set the record straight.

He sat down at the desk, dragged out the phone directory, turned to the earmarked page with the listing for Franklin, and punched in the numbers.

An answering machine picked up, and a factory-set female voice invited him to leave his message after thebeep.

Ellery waited for thebeepand said, “Mr. Franklin, this is Ellery Page. I just received your phone message, and I want to apologize—as well as explain. I’m not sure what Mrs. Crane told you, but I trulymeant no offense.”

There was something disconcerting about the hissing silence on the other end.

Should he leave it there? Should he keep trying to explain to the refrigerator and stove?

How old had Franklin been in 1963? It was hard to tell over the phone, but he sounded older. Not old; maybe middle-aged? Joey had referred tothe kida couple of times. Was that kid Franklin? Was it possiblehehad useful memories of that period?

Ellery continued, “I apologize for having used a-a nom de plume. The truth is, I’m working on a book set on the island back in the 1960s, and Vera Shandy suggested your mother might be a good source for stories about the Deep Dive and all its colorful characters.”

It was easier to lie over the phone than to someone’s face. However, it was going to be awkward if Franklin compared notes with his mother. Was that likely? Maybe not, if Ellery’s suspicions were correct, and Mrs. Shandy was being corralled without her knowledge.

“Actually, your mother mentioned you a few times, and I’d love to interview you if you’re at all willing. I promise you, there’s nothing shady going on.”

Ellery recited his cell phone number and hung up.

There was a chance Franklin might phone him back, but he wasn’t going to hold his breath. Clearly, the guy was worried about some embarrassing information coming to light. Maybe it had to do with his father’s gambling addiction, his mother’s affair, or simply what sounded like a very unpleasant home life.

Or maybe it was something more. People tended to forget kids were around when they were talking—speaking as someone who’d picked up an awful lot of interesting backstage gossip back when he’d worn childhood’s magic cloak of invisibility.

Chapter Fourteen

“It’s a very good sign,” Mrs. Nelson was saying when Ellery returned to the book floor. “Not for poor Tackle, of course, but it means we’re getting closer.”

“How do you figure that?” Mr. Starling inquired. “None ofuswas run over.Hewasn’t run over.” He pointed at Ellery. “It seems to me if anyone was getting close to anything, it was Tackle Shandy and the bumper of that car.”

Mrs. Clarence murmured, “Oh dear. Stanley.”

“Maybe so, but I don’t think I’m wrong.” Mr. Starling fastened his beady little gaze on Ellery. “Doyouthink I’m wrong?”

Ellery poured himself a cup of coffee from the burner on the side table beneath the portrait of theGolden Fancy. He was starting to feel very tired, and it wasn’t only from trying to follow the Silver Sleuths’ verbal ping-pong.

“I think Tackle must have known something. He definitely didn’t want the case reopened. There could be a lot of reasons for that. He couldn’t have any direct involvement in Vernon’s disappearance, but he could’ve discovered the truth secondhand.”

“Exactly,” Nora said. “He could havepersonalinvolvement. Rocky could certainly be involved.”