Page 7
Story: Lament at Loon Landing
“September! Darling!” Dylan exclaimed with fake heartiness. Ellery thought he lost color.
“Don’tdarlingme.” September stormed—quite literally (Ellery felt a drop or two of something that was probably not rain)—up to them. “Dylan, I specifically asked to be included in any get-togethers with Lara!” She spared Ellery a glance. “I should have known!”
“Huh?” Ellery said. “I’m just an innocent bystander.”
“Oh, don’t give me that. You’re always egging him on.”
“W-w-what?” It was so ridiculous that Ellery, unfortunately, laughed. Out loud.
Dylan winced. September turned a shade of scarlet that was flattering to no living creature, and turned her back on Ellery—which was some maneuver, given that it meant stepping between him and Dylan.
“This wasn’t a social gathering,” Dylan tried to explain. “This is an official meeting of the festival organizers.”
“You’re having lunch!”
“It’s a committee lunch meeting. You’re not on the committee, my dove.”
“Neither is Jane or Sue Lewis orhim.”
Dylan threwhim, er, Ellery, a look of apology.
“September,darling, Sue is handling promotion for the festival. Jane was there at the request of the Lara’s manager. The presence of food doesn’t make it a social occasion.”
“And what abouthim? Why washeinvited? What festival business isheinvolved in?”
“I’m just going to step inside…” Ellery began a strategic retreat, but froze as Dylan, seeming to lose all patience, suddenly shouted, “None of your bloody, damned business, woman!”
Even the seagulls seemed to have nothing to say in the wake of that outraged bellow. For a few startled seconds there was nothing but the crash of waves on the shore below.
September recovered quickly.
“Howdareyou talk to me like that.” Her eyes blazed with fury. “When I think of everything I put up with? Sometimes I think I could kill you, Dylan.”
Dylan snapped back, “Let me tell you, darling, the feeling’s mutual.”
“Hey, you two,” Ellery warned. “You’ve got an audience.”
Dylan and September followed the direction of his gaze. Across the rolling width of wild green hillside, Lara Fairplay was staring at them.
Chapter Three
“Dylan Carter just phoned,” Nora announced when Ellery arrived back at the Crow’s Nest. “He wants you to phone him back. Do we have the case?”
“No.”
“No?”
Ellery, bending down to receive Watson’s joyous greeting, said, “Not as far as I know. Lara went for a walk after lunch and never came back. I slipped out early.”
“Oh?” Nora’s brows shot up. “Did your leaving early have anything to do with Miss St. Simmons showing up unexpectedly?”
Ellery gave Watson a final pat and rose. “Sometimes I wonder whether you’ve got a telescope stashed in the attic. How on earth could you know that, Nora?”
A discreet cough floated from the Gothics and Ghosts section. Kingston’s disembodied voice said apologetically, “I ran into Miss St. Simmons as I was returning from lunch. She was in a bit of a tizzy.”
“Tizzy?Is that a euphemism for full-throttle tantrum? Because she was threatening Dylan’s life when I left.”
Ellery nearly missed Kingston’s mild, “Good heavens,” as Nora said briskly, “Excellent!”
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