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“No. That would be pretty helpful, actually.”

“So it’s a win-win.”

“Let’s hope,” Ellery said.

After agreeing to meet with Lara and Neilson that evening at Loon Landing, the site of the festival, Ellery ended the call with Dylan and phoned Jack.

He had uncomfortable experience with how fast news traveled through the village, and he didn’t want to add criminal omission to the additional charges he might have already incurred in Jack’s eyes.

One of the advantages of being the police chief’s boyfriend was he could forgo the delights of on-hold music and public-service announcements, and just call Jack on his cell. Unless Jack was in a meeting, he always picked up by the second ring.

“Hey. What’s up?” Jack’s usual brisk tone was warm.

“Welllllll…”

“Uh-oh.” Jack sounded resigned. “What have you got yourself into?”

“Hopefully nothing too serious.” Ellery explained Lara’s situation and the music festival’s organizers decision to bring in someone unofficial to snoop around.

Jack listened in silence. When Ellery finished, Jack said, “I can’t say I’m thrilled.”

“No. I know.”

Jack’s sigh was just a wee bit weary, and Ellery winced inwardly. Jack was the most conscientious person he’d ever known. He didn’t enjoy knowing he was adding to Jack’s worries.

Jack said, “It’s a lot of responsibility. You understand that, right? You’re all hoping there’s nothing more serious going on here than some crank venting his or her frustrations, but that’s not always the case. Without exception, the authors of these types of communication are vindictive, spiteful personalities with little to no self-control.”

“Right. I realize this person’s not normal.”

“That’s correct. You’re very often dealing with mild to moderate paranoiacs, manipulative personalities suffering from grandiose delusions and other antisocial character disorders, or those with more serious mental illnesses.”

“That’s the part that worries me,” Ellery admitted.

“You have reason to be worried.” Jack was not much for sugarcoating.

“They’re only here for the weekend, though.”

“If this stalker really is locally based, that’smaybegood news.”

“They have to be local, don’t you think?”

“It’s probable. Assuming the threats really did originate here. Do you know for a fact someone checked for postmarks?”

“According to Dylan, yes. The envelopes were postmarked here in Pirate’s Cove.”

“Then this person is either local or working with someone local. Local or within traveling distance.”

Ellery would, of course, have preferred the threats to originate long-distance. He was mostly reassuring himself when he said, “I’ve been getting threats since May, but so far, luckily, that’s all it’s amounted to. Hate mail. Maybe that’s all it is here. Maybe the person is working out their antisocial tendencies through the postal service.”

There was a decided lack of reassurance in Jack’s grim, “Sometimes the harasser loses interest in the game. Sometimes they find another target.”

“Exactly. So—”

“Sometimes they escalate.”

Neither spoke for a moment. Ellery shook off his unease.

“The tentative agreement I made with the festival organizers and Lara’s manager is that if I decide the threat is real, Lara Fairplay will come to you.”