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Ellery shook his head, moved aside for Jack to enter. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Further conversation had to wait until Watson finished hailing his hero.

ARF. ARF. ARF.

Watson’s bark held a reproachful note.

Jack squatted down and Watson leapt into his arms, frantically licking Jack’s chin and nose. Jack closed his eyes and endured.

Ellery smiled faintly watching. “Watson’s going to choose you in the custody battle.”

Jack’s eyes opened. He flicked Ellery a quick, doubtful look. “Don’t even joke.”

He rose, and Watson jumped out of his arms to race down the hall ahead of them, as though to say, “This way, gents!”

Ellery asked tentatively, “Are you hungry?” His heart was beating with relief and hope.

“I could eat something,” Jack admitted.

As Ellery led the way to the kitchen, he said, “You know, me getting socked wasn’t even your fault.”

He wasn’t looking at Jack, so he couldn’t see his expression, but Jack’s tone was rueful as he answered, “It waskind ofmy fault. I should have tried to deescalate the situation. I lost my temper.”

“I did too.” Ellery glanced back and met Jack’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I can see from your standpoint that it was all getting…a little out of hand.”

Jack seemed to look inward, and if he was seeing what Ellery was—Dylan bouncing around like Harold Lloyd or Jerry Lewis—no wonder his mouth twitched.

Remembering, Nora and Kingston’s attempts to explain Jack’s side, Ellery admitted, “It didn’t help, my being there. I didn’t expect you to show up.”

Instead of answering, Jack asked, “How’s the hunt for contractors going?”

Okay, well, maybe Jack was right. Maybe they would be better off just playing it normal, steering away from the topic of Dylan’s arrest, at least for the time being.

“I’ve got an army of people showing up to give me estimates on Monday.”

Monday was usually game night. It seemed unlikely Dylan would be in the mood for drinks and Scrabble this week. Ellery considered that for a moment. Dylan was such a central member of the community—certainly of Ellery’s community—it was hard to picture life in Pirate’s Cove without him.

“Ellery.” Jack’s tone was awkward.

Ellery opened the refrigerator and gazed at the contents. He had not been spending a lot of nights at Captain’s Seat lately, and the vegetables and fruit looked a little rough around the edges.

He tried to keep his tone neutral. “He doesn’t have a motive, Jack.”

“Motive is subjective. You know that. September’s murder wasn’t premeditated. Her killer used a weapon of opportunity. He didn’t go there intending to kill her. She must have said or done something that so enraged him—”

Ellery turned to face Jack. “That he’d grab a hammer and hit her from behind? Does that sound like Dylan to you?”

“I can tell you from years of working homicide that ninety percent of the crimes I investigated were not—in the opinion of family and friends—within the perpetrator’s nature.Out of character. That’s from the people who knew them best.”

Ellery said shortly, “Maybe you put a lot of the wrong people in jail.”

Jack opened his mouth, closed it, and gave Ellery a level look.

“That was totally uncalled for,” Ellery said. “I apologize.”