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“Kingston bought it? With his own money?” Ellery bit his lip. “I need to reimburse him.”

“No, dearie. It’s Kingston’s gift to the bookshop.”

Ellery whispered, “Kingston shouldn’t be giving the bookshop gifts when the bookshop might not be able to keep him on.”

“Now, now. Let’s keep a positive attitude.”

Ellery opened his mouth, and Nora added, “I suspect Kingston would like to continue Saturday Storytime even if you can’t afford to employ him.”

“Really?” Ellery gazed doubtfully at the rapt circle of children.

They never wash.

Their kids have lice.

They really don’t smell very nice.

Kingston’s audience began to giggle and roll around on the carpet.

“He’s reallyverygood,” Nora murmured approvingly.

Watson, who’d seen enough of this nonsense, raised his head to object, but Ellery nodded hastily to Nora and carted him off to his office.

He set Watson on the floor, closed the door, and sat down behind his desk. He turned on his computer, but his smile was not for Yahoo’s bleak presentation of world events. Despite being worried about Dylan and Lara Fairplay, he was feeling happy, even contented.

Somehow, he and Jack had managed to weather the kind of rough weather that would have sunk any of his previous romantic relationships. The variable had to be Jack. Ellery was not kidding himself he’d suddenly learned the secret to making relationships work. He was learning not to duck conflict. It was still hard sometimes to trust that this relationship wasn’t going to end like all his relationships, but he was getting better about communicating both what he feared and he what he wanted. And that was because of Jack. Because Jack was so honest, it was easier to return that honesty.

One of the things I love about you.

Ellery had not missed those casual words the evening before. He knew it wasn’t a declaration. Knew Jack had used the phrase the same way Ellery intended when he said he loved old movies or Chinese food or Broadway shows. In the very same breath Jack had said,I’m not going to ask you to choose between…friendships.

No, Ellery didn’t want to maketoomuch of that little lone word, even though it seemed he’d been waiting an awfully long time to hear it. But he couldn’t help feeling the sun was shining a bit more brightly that morning.

He became aware that Watson was sniffing loudly beneath the bottom of his office door. Sniffing and muttering beneath his breath. Watson was not a fan of children, possibly because kids had a tendency to try to pick him up by parts of his anatomy not intended for use as a handle.

To distract him, Ellery opened his desk drawer, felt around for a new unopened toy, and instead felt the unfamiliar shape and texture of something square and flat in a thin plastic bag.

He drew out a green plastic bag encasing a square envelope and stared.

Through the plastic he could make out the words ELLERY PAGE

How the heck had he forgotten about this?

For a few seconds he studied the crude writing.

Was it good news or bad news to know he wasn’t the only person in the world getting hate mail from Buck Island?

But realistically, how many authors of poison pen letters could be running around Pirate’s Cove?

Jack could probably quote him statistics.

I can’t help thinking that sending a warning to someone you intend to kill is merely making your own life more difficult.

Nora had a point.

Okay, once again from the top: who stood to gain from Lara’s death?

Not the festival organizers. Not Pirate’s Cove. Not Buck Island.MaybeDawn Shumway’s family would get some satisfaction out of Lara’s demise—it didn’t sound like it— but as far as practical, substantial gain? Jocasta and Neilson were the most likely contenders.