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“I don’t know about running away. She didn’t return to the island after college.”

“Same thing.” Nora caught Ellery’s eye and winked.

“Ha. Anyway, it seems her sister died, and so she’s back here raising her sister’s kids. She works at the Cloaked Owl. Oh, and she’s the accordion player in the Fish and Chippies.”

“I had no idea!” Nora sounded slightly aggrieved at this failure to communicate on the part of the island’s most reliable gossips.

Kingston said, “One of the island’s oldest families, the Rathbones.”

“I’m beginning to realize that doesn’t mean much,” Ellery said.

For some reason Nora and Kingston seemed to find that funny, but Ellery wasn’t kidding. From his perspective, the island’s gene pool remained largely, even peculiarly, undisturbed after centuries of close contact with the mainland.

“What about someone named James Sutherland?”

“Sutherland…” Nora repeated thoughtfully. “That name sounds familiar. I wonder…”

“What do you wonder?”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Tell me something Idon’tknow.”

“If this is the young man I’m thinking of, I seem to recall he committed suicide after breaking up with his girlfriend.” She sighed. “Young people are so emotional.”

“That’ll be the one.” Ellery had no doubts. After a year of sleuthing, he could spot the layout from miles away. “How long ago do you think this was?”

Nora shook her head. “More than twenty years ago. I do remember that the family moved away after the tragedy. They weren’t…”

“From around these parts?” suggested Ellery.

“Exactly. They had only been on the island a decade or so. It’s not as though they had roots to the community.”

“Riiiight.” Ellery considered. “Okay. That gives me a starting point. I’m going to see what I can find out online.”

“There’s always theScuttlebutt Weekly’s archives,” Nora called as Ellery, Watson on his heels, headed for his office. Nora was referring to the newspaper’s morgue. So far Sue, for reasons known only to herself, had resisted digitizing back issues of the paper.

“No, there isn’t,” Ellery called back.

He sat down at his desk, briefly checked his email, then clicked onto the internet. He typed inJames Sutherland, and in 3.44 seconds learned there were over 39,400,000 results to scroll through.

“Argh,” he said, or words to that effect.

The landline phone rang at the front desk. A moment later, Nora called, “It’s for you, dearie. It’s Mr. Honeycutt.”

Mr. Honeycutt was the lawyer handling Brandon Abbott’s estate. He rarely called with good news. Ellery prepared himself for more excuses and delays, and picked up.

“Ellery speaking,” he said crisply.

“Mr. Page!” Mr. Honeycutt greeted him with uncharacteristic good cheer. “How does fifty thousand dollars sound to you?”

Chapter Eight

“Fifty thousand dollars,” Jack repeated.

“Yep.”

“Fiftythousanddollars?”