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“Now, you don’t really think Sue is your archnemesis,” Dylan chided. “That’s ancient history, isn’t it?”

“Idon’t consider Sue my archnemesis, no. Emotionally mature adults don’t think in such terms.Sheconsiders meherarchnemesis.”

Dylan squashed a sound that was probably a laugh. “She really doesn’t. Her community service has changed her. She’s…er…she’s a kinder, gentler Sue. You’ll see.”

“I’ll see from a distance,” Ellery said. “Seriously, though, I already took my break. I can’t just leave Nora and Kingston to—”

“Yes, you can!” Nora chirped from behind him.

Ellery scowled at her.

“We’re fine here. Go. Have fun!” Nora made shooing motions.

“See?” Dylan put in. “Nora’s got it under control.”

“Yeeeah. Just a reminder to you and Nora: I’m actually the one in charge here.”

From opposite ends of the island, Nora and Dylan chortled at this quaint notion.

“Okay, whatever, but I really can’t just—”

Dylan cut in with an apologetic, “The thing is, I have an ulterior motive in asking you to lunch.”

Ellery sighed. “Just as I suspected.”

“But before you agree, you need to, well, see the lay of the land.”

“Before I agree?” Ellery gave a disbelieving laugh. “That’s taking things for granted.”

“Well, after all, everyone in Pirate’s Cove knows this kind of thing is like catnip for you.”

“What kind of thing?”

“Mysteries. Puzzles. Games.”

Ellery was not fooled by frivolous talk of games and puzzles. “You want me to solve a mystery?”

“It’s a paying gig. We—well, most of us—want tohireyou.”

If anything, Ellery’s caution grew. “You want to hire me to solve a mystery. Whatkindof mystery?” He couldn’t help adding, “And whodoesn’twant to hire me? Sue?”

“I suppose it’s a bit of a…a whodunit,” Dylan said, hesitating over the first question and ignoring the second.

Uh-oh. “Who donewhat?”

Dylan said airily, “If you want to learn the answer to that—and other questions—you’ll just have to come to lunch. The Seacrest Inn at one o’clock.”

And with that, he hung up.

Chapter Two

At the height of her fame, one well-known reviewer had referred to Lara Fairplay as “Bob Dylan without the pretty face.”

That had been back in the day. The days when Fairplay had been a rising star with two crossover hits, one on the country charts and one on the pop. The days before she stabbed a woman in a bar fight. Before Lara served eleven years in prison for voluntary manslaughter.

Kind of a career killer, that last one.

Which was partly how the organizers of a rather small and obscure maritime music festival had ended up scoring such a well-known performer as their headliner.