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“Arti Rathbone’s a woman?”

“That she is. Artemisia Rathbone. As a matter of fact, she’s a direct descendant of the original Ann Rathbone.”

Probably not a direct descendant, since the original Ann Rathbone had been in her teens when she drowned herself in the sea, but descended from the same bloodline, for sure. The interconnectedness of all things barely began to describe how intertwined the original families of Buck Island were.

“For some reason, I thought your accordion player was a recent transplant.”

“She moved away from the island after college, but she came back after her sister passed away. She’s raising her nieces and nephews in the old family home.”

“That’s—I had no idea. She’s a really talented musician. She adds a lot to the group.”

“I think so.”

Myaccordion player? Yep, he wasn’t wrong in thinking Fish wasn’t keen on giving up Arti Rathbone’s details. That was okay. Now that Ellery knew whom he was looking for, he didn’t need Fish’s help. And maybe Fish knew that too because he said reluctantly, “She has a day job at the Cloaked Owl.”

“Really? Okay, then.”

The Cloaked Owl was the island’s only commercial provider of items used in witchcraft. Along with the bells, books, and candles, the daughters of the Cloaked Owl sold “proprietary blends of anointing and magickal oils, loose incense, and custom spells.”

“I can tell you this much,” Fish said. “No way is Arti wasting her energy mailing anonymous hate mail. She’s not that kind of person.”

Ellery said, “I believe you. But I literally have no leads. Maybe she can give me some ideas about who to talk to.”

“She was away from the island for almost twenty years. I don’t know what help you think she could be.”

“I don’t know either,” Ellery said peaceably. While good accordion players did not litter the island’s shores, Fish’s defensiveness had to be more than that. Now that Ellery thought back, he’d had the impression that Arti’s joining the band had initially ruffled a few feathers, though all the players seemed to get along fine these days.

“Thanks for your help.” He scooped Watson out from under the stage, where he’d discovered an enticing hot-dog wrapper, nodded goodbye to Fish, and headed back to the village proper.

Unfortunately, the Cloaked Owl was not yet open for business. According to the sign on the door, their hours were from noon to midnight.

“Double, double toil and trouble,” Ellery said.

Watson concurred with a tail wag.

“We’ll try again after lunch.”

He returned to the Crow’s Nest, which, despite a ferry full of visitors arriving for the festival, was dishearteningly empty of anything resembling customers. Nora and Kingston stood at the counter, having coffee and debating the merits of Stephen Foster’s musical legacy.

“You can’t deny some of his repertoire is inherently offensive, given its historical context and racially insensitive language,” Nora was saying.

“There’s no question Foster benefitted enormously from the racial hierarchy of his day. But there’s also no question he was writing for minstrelsy at a period when blackface performers were largely sympathetic to the plight of slaves.”

“Do you think they talk like this all the time?” Ellery whispered to Watson. His work-hours conversations with Jack typically consisted of asking how each other’s day was going and figuring out if they’d be able to have dinner together.

Watson had no opinion beyond tugging to be free of his halter so he could say hello properly.

Kingston said, “An argument could be made that—”

“Nora, have you ever heard of Artemisia Rathbone?” Ellery interrupted. And it clearly was an interruption. Nora and Kingston were so involved in their conversation, they didn’t register his appearance until he was right in front of them.

“I’ve certainly heard of the Rathbone family,” Nora replied, not in the least discomposed.

“Ah, the legend of Skull House.” Kingston rubbed his hands together as though preparing to sit down at his typewriter.

“Right. This would be one of Ann Rathbone’s descendants.”

Nora frowned, considering. “That might be the eldest daughter. The one who ran away.”