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Jocasta nodded, still sniffling, and wiped her eyes on the sleeve of herThe Byrdssweatshirt.

Ellery vaulted onto the stage as Neilson turned on Dylan. “You said she’d be safe performing here!”

Well.Thatcat was out of the bag. Ellery studied the smashed light. Like everything else in the theater, it had been somewhat the worse for wear even before it fell forty-five feet to its crash landing.

Dylan ignored Neilson, speaking intently to a stricken-looking Fish before turning back to Lara and her husband-manager.

“The festival committee said from the beginning that we couldn’t make any guarantees. The whole point of bringing Ellery in was to see where we were with this…this unique situation.”

Ellery put his hand on Dylan’s arm. “Shouldn’t we check the scaffolding to see whether this was an accident? It’s an old theater. Accidents happen.”

Dylan looked startled. Fish looked relieved.

“He’s right!” Fish said. “The building’s practically falling down.”

Dylan threw him a look of exasperation.

“Oh, terrific,” Neilson exclaimed. “We’ve been booked to appear in a deathtrap!”

“Nonsense,” Dylan protested. “This theater is perfectly safe. It’s weathered over a century of storms and…and…safety inspections.”

“No, he’s right.” That was Lara, and she was looking at Ellery. “Itisan old building.” She added to Neilson, “Come on, Neil. We’ve played worse venues.”

“Not since the early days.”

She lifted a dismissing shoulder. “Everything old is new again.”

“It’s not a song, Lara! If that thing had hit you…”

She smiled sardonically. “You’d collect all that lovely insurance money.”

Neilson’s head went back as though she’d slapped him.

“Lara,” Jocasta protested. “You don’t have to always take it out on Neil! He’s only trying to protect you.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it, Jo,” Neilson said bitterly.

Lara gazed ceilingward as though asking for strength—or maybe a bolt of lightning she could use.

Dylan and Ellery exchanged looks. Ellery raised his brows meaningfully, and Dylan called, “Stage Manager, can we get one of the crew to take a look at this light?”

Chapter Five

Watson was howling when Elliot arrived at Jack’s around ten that evening.

He wondered uneasily how often Watson treated Jack’s neighbors to his songs of protest. Watson was a people person—well, a people pup—and all the chew toys and soft blankets in the world couldn’t compensate for finding himself alone.

Ellery unlocked the front door. “Hey. What’s all this?” Watson hurled himself cannonball style into Ellery’s arms. “It was just a couple of hours!”

Watson proceeded to detail his complaints—the list was long—and Ellery took a couple of minutes to soothe his four-footed pal’s injured feelings.

“If you want to go back to having a puppysitter, we can do that.” It was convenient being able to drop Watson off at Jack’s, but Ellery didn’t want to put Jack’s neighbors in the position of having to complain to the chief of police about his boyfriend’s air-raid siren—er, dog.

When Watson was done venting, Ellery went into the kitchen to make a hot drink. Jack usually had a beer when he got home. Ellery was too wound up to sleep, but he didn’t want more alcohol. He found the herbal tea he’d left in Jack’s cupboard and brewed a cup. He did not leave many items at Jack’s: a toothbrush, a couple of books, and the box of passionflower tea were about it. Though he was spending more time at Jack’s, he still wasn’t completely comfortable on Jack’s turf. It wasn’t anything Jack did or didn’t do. Jack kept a carton of oat milk on hand for Ellery and randomly bought packages of prewashed salad mix. In case Ellery got the sudden urge to graze? Jack expected—wanted—Ellery to feel at home. But Jack’s pristine domicile was a slightly intimidating reminder of how completely and utterly self-contained Jack was—and how long he’d been so.

Granted, Ellery only felt that way when he was alone in Jack’s house. When Jack was there, the place felt entirely different.

He was drinking his tea and trying to make sense of the evening’s events, Watson curled on the sofa beside him, when Jack’s key scraped in the lock.