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“You can see there’s no envelope on Rupert’s case.” Ellery glanced at Jack’s freshly shaven profile. “Now, at five to five, Kingston leaves and here comes Imelda.”

Sure enough, at five minutes to five, Kingston held the door for Imelda Appleby lugging a cardboard box of paperback books. She waved off Kingston’s attempt to take the box. Kingston departed. Imelda carried the books up the aisle and out of frame.

“You can’t see on this camera, but on the other camera, Imelda and Nora chat for about seven minutes. If you fast forward… Right. At this point, the Crow’s Nest is officially closed. Nora goes to put Watson in his crate and Imelda leaves. Watch…”

They watched as Imelda’s diminutive figure bustled down the center aisle. At the front door, she paused, glanced furtively back in the direction of the sales desk, and slipped something white out of her purse. Quick as a flash, she propped the white envelope on the base of the glass case, and went out, carefully, quietly closing the door behind her.

Jack glanced at Ellery.

Ellery said, “You can fast forward again. Nora doesn’t notice the envelope when she leaves. And I don’t notice it when I come to pick up Watson at about six-thirty.”

In silence they watched Ellery re-enter the bookshop. He freed Watson from captivity, then, moving at the speed of a character in a silent film, chased him around the store—Watson bouncing up and down like a large black rabbit.

Jack snorted.

Finally Ellery caught Watson and buckled him into his harness.

The white envelope was still propped at the foot of the display case as Ellery turned out the lights and went out the door with Watson.

Jack swiveled his head, meeting Ellery’s gaze. His expression was flinty.

“Thank you for insisting I install those security cameras,” Ellery said.

Jack grunted.

“I have no idea why, but it looks to me like Imelda’s writing poison pen letters in her spare time.”

“Everyone needs a hobby.” Jack was not smiling though.

“I feel bad because I always sort of wondered in the very back of my mind if Jane was leaving me those letters.”

“Jane? Jane Smith? Why?”

“I don’t know. Paranoia? But then I don’t know why Imelda would leave these letters either. And something about Jane’s has always been sort of secretive.” Ellery shrugged.

“All right,” Jack said briskly. “Leave this to me. I’ll bring Imelda in and hear what she has to say.”

That sounded like a dismissal to Ellery.

He moved away from Jack’s desk, saying, “Okay. Thank you.” He headed for the door.

Jack said, “Wait a sec. Have a seat. I was just about to phone you when you showed up. I have information that might be helpful to you.”

“Really?” Ellery took one of the chairs in front of Jack’s desk.

“It turns out September St. Simmons’s was a stage name.”

“That makes sense.”

“September’s real name was Sybil Simon. It turns out Sybil did time in federal prison for extortion and blackmail.”

Ellery absorbed that, and said quickly, “There’s no way she was blackmailing Dylan. Dylan’s life is an open…stage. He’d never put up with someone trying to blackmail him. He’d never pay a dime in blackmail money.”

Jack smiled faintly. “I agree. I don’t think she was blackmailing Dylan.”

“Youagree?”

Jack nodded, “Yes. Dylan was paying her rent, but that had nothing to do with extortion and everything to do with sleeping with her.”