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He and Brandon would never have been a compatibility match on any love quiz in this universe or the next, but Ellery was sorry he hadn’t tried to be a better friend.

The Loon Landing Boathouse was alive with light and music by the time Ellery reached the festival grounds, so maybe that explained the absence of crowds wandering through the booths and smaller stages? Maybe everyone was inside the boathouse listening to the concerts on the main stage?

The haunting voice of a woman seemed to float across the marshes and grassy fields, drowning out the outside acts and entertainment.

I will not say goodbye

Sea may rise

Sky may fall

My love will never die

That would be the female vocalist of the Fish and Chippies taking a whack at the Claire Wyndham song. Lara and her band would not perform until later in the evening.

This was the perfect opportunity to lurk backstage and see what there was to see. Ellery could keep an eye on Lara and her entourage when they showed up, which presumably would be fairly soon, and he could try to talk to Arti Rathbone when the Fish and Chippies finished playing.

He cut across the grass field, passing a small booth where “Cap” Elijah Murphy was putting on what appeared to be an old-fashioned puppet show. There seemed to be an awful lot of swords and screaming in that particular theatrical production. The audience of mostly-preschoolers looked pretty alarmed.

Next door was a booth with the sign SLOSHBUCKLERS WANTED where the parents of the terrorized tots appeared to be consoling themselves with obscenely overpriced paper cups of “grog” and “rhum.”

There was no sign of Jack or Officer Martin, but he did spot Madam Buckley, the medium, commiserating with Sandy Morita, who was running the face painting booth. Sadly, it seemed no visitors were interested in having their fortunes told or their features realigned.

It didn’t look like this year’s Sing the Plank was going to pull the festival out of the red. Not so far, anyway, but after all, it was only Friday night. Presumably the weekend would see bigger crowds.

In fact, when Ellery reached the entrance of the boathouse, it was clear that there was indeed a bigger crowd—taking up every seat in the theater.

“Sorry, the entire evening is sold out,” Greta Handel informed him apologetically. Greta owned the island’s only gourmet grocery store. By the look of things, she’d had the foresight not to drag her wares to the fairground, instead pitching in to handle concert ticket sales.

“The entire evening?”

Greta nodded. “It’s packed inside.” She couldn’t help beaming.

“That’s great!”

“It really is. Maybe bringing in Lara Fairplay wasn’t such a waste of money after all.”

“Is that what people are saying?”

“They won’t be saying it now.”

Ellery nodded, glancing around the busy foyer. “Is Dylan around?”

“Um… I haven’t seen him for a while.” Greta picked up a walkie talkie from the table. “I can radio him?”

Ellery opened his mouth, but was forestalled by someone calling, “Ellery!”

He glanced around and there was Dylan, headed his way. His expression was hard to read, but did not appear to be that of someone who had helped organize an unexpectedly successful event.

“Hey,” Ellery greeted him. “I was just—”

“I need to talk to you.” Dylan’s hand gripped Ellery’s arm in a viselike grip. “Let’s step outside.”

“Sure.” Ellery threw Greta a quick look—she looked as taken aback as no doubt he did—as Dylan towed him toward the door.

“I’m sorry to ask, but I need a huge, hugefavor,” Dylan was saying as they stepped out into the chilly marsh-scented evening.

“Okay. Of course. What’s wrong?”