Page 67

The hair rose on the back of Ellery’s head. He realized she’d considered casting suspicion on Dylan but, for whatever reason, decided against it.

“Do you have any idea why she was so insistent Dylan include her in any meetings with Lara Fairplay?”

Jane hesitated again, but her desire to show she was in the know, warred with her sense of caution. “I think they had known each other at one time.”

“Really?”

“September was a singer as well as an actress. I think they worked together a long time ago.”

“That’s news. I guess it makes sense. She seemed to have trouble finding work.”

“She wasn’t interested in finding work. If she hadn’t been stupid…” Jane didn’t finish the thought. Instead, she said, “Aren’t you going to ask me how I happened to find the Foster fragment? I’m sure Nora is dying to know.”

“I don’t care about the Foster fragment.”

Jane’s eyes narrowed.

“Do you know who killed September?” Ellery asked.

“Chief Carson arrested Mr. Carter.”

“Dylan didn’t kill September.”

“Then I really don’t know who could have done,” Jane said.

Ellery regarded her steadily. Jane stared back, but her expression grew defensive. “I don’t know why you’re giving me that look. I don’t know!Icertainly had nothing to do with it.”

“Maybe not, but Iknowyou know more than you’re saying.”

“You can think what you like.”

“If you do know who killed her, or if someone eventhinksyou know, you could be in a lot of danger, Jane.”

Jane bristled. “I could say the same to you, Ellery!” She scurried away down the hallway.

The walk back to the Crow’s Nest felt endless.

He was not alone. Lots of people were coming and going on the road leading to Pirate’s Cove. Many of the festival goers had enjoyed a few too many beverages, which occasionally turned the walkway into an obstacle course.

It was unexpectedly chilly and the various aches and pains of the day had caught up with Ellery, but the continued silence from Jack was what really hurt.

By the time he reached the bookshop, it took all his energy to collect Watson, bundle him into the car, and start the million-mile drive back to Captain’s Seat.

In fact, it was not even twenty minutes before he pulled into the circular drive, parked, and staggered around to unsnap Watson from his harness. Watson hopped down, shook himself, tags jangling noisily, and darted off to make sure every bush and tree was as he’d left it.

Ellery crossed the broken flagstones—were these something he could afford to replace with part of his financial windfall?—and unlocked the fortress-like front door.

The familiar scents of old wood and new varnish greeted him. He’d forgotten to leave a lamp on, and the entry hall was dark. Ellery felt around for the wall switch and dazzling light from the newly rewired chandelier illuminated the cathedral ceiling, tall staircase, and the open-mouthed wooden cannons carved into the balustrade overhead.

The mansion had been built back in the 1700s by Ellery’s famed pirate-hunting ancestor Captain Horatio Page. Once upon a time, Captain’s Seat had been one of the island’s showplaces, but time and tide had taken their toll. With Jack’s help, Ellery had been working to restore the house to a semblance of, at least, livability, and together they’d managed to make a surprising amount of progress. But to restore the mansion to its original glory would take a lot more time and a lot more money.

Although fifty grand would certainly help.

Watson, apparently under the impression the drawbridge closed at midnight, came racing through the open door behind Ellery, and skidded across the polished wood floor.

Despite his weariness and mounting depression, Ellery chuckled. “Did you almost miss your bus?”

Watson, looking a little sheepish, picked himself up, and wagged his tail.