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“Excellent?”

“Yes. Perhaps now he’ll give her the old heave-ho.”

“The old heave-ho? You’ve got some interesting dating customs on this island.”

Nora was not distracted by Ellery’s teasing. Indeed, she had an uncharacteristically brooding look. “Drastic times call for drastic measures.”

“Yee-ah. I wish you wouldn’t say that kind of thing out loud.”

“Men can besuchfools. It was obvious from the start that woman was a menace. But boys will be boys. All it seems to take is a pretty smile, long legs, and big—” Nora’s impatient hand gesture seemed to indicate a predilection for cantaloupe or perhaps watermelon.

“I beg to differ. We’re not all of the same ilk.” Though Ellery was equally unenthralled by September’s…garden variety charms, this came from Kingston, who wandered out of the Gothic section, brushing off a gossamer strand of cobweb. “In my opinion, nothing is more sexy than a mature woman of intellect, sincerity, and good humor.”

Nora preened as though this comment was intended as a compliment to her, and for all Ellery knew, it was.

“This is all very enlightening,” he said, “but I don’t want to hear any more about what you two find sexy.”

Kingston and Nora chortled, but Nora was serious when she asked, “Why do you suppose Miss St. Simmons was so angry at not being invited to lunch?”

“She didn’t say, but she did make it clear to Dylan that it was important to her to be included in any get-togethers with Lara Fairplay.”

“Perhaps she’s lonely for other showbiz people,” Kingston suggested. “From what I understand, she’s had trouble making friends on the island.”

Dylan had never said so to Ellery, but he didn’t doubt it.

“She’s had coffee with Jane a few times,” Nora said. “If she’s had trouble fitting in, it’s trouble of her own making. No, I snum she imagines there’s a career opportunity to be had. Does she sing?”

“Probably,” Ellery said. “Everyone else on the island seems to.”

“Maybe she’s simply a fan,” Kingston offered.

“What’s the case?” Nora inquired, apparently losing interest in the subject of September St. Simmons’s social life.

“Hm?”

“The case you’re being hired for.”

“I wasn’t hired,” Ellery reminded her. “I was being considered. I’m not sure thereisa case, really. After Lara agreed to appear at Sing the Plank, she started to receive death threats.”

Nora and Kingston exchanged looks.

“But speaking as someone who used to be in the public eye—and given her history—that might not be totally unexpected.”

“If her people are contemplating hiring a private investigator, it would seem to befairlyunexpected.”

“Just a routine reminder: I’m not a private investigator. I think maybe what made everyone uncomfortable was that these threatening letters seemed to have originated here.”

Kingston studied Ellery over the tops of his spectacles. “Here?On the island?”

Ellery said, “Anonymous letter writing is apparently a popular pastime in Pirate’s Cove.”

Kingston was, unsurprisingly, confused by this comment, and Ellery wished he’d kept his mouth shut as Nora launched into an explanation of how, since moving to the village, Ellery too occasionally received anonymous hate mail. Nora and Kingston were speculating that perhaps Ellery’s poison-pen pal had branched out to include visiting musicians, when Ellery finally interrupted.

“My point is, I received weird emails before I ever moved here, and I’m sure Lara does too. They come with the territory.”

Kingston looked thoughtful. “Perhaps one of the local bands isn’t happy that the festival committee went off-island this year to hire a headliner.”

“I’m surenoneof the local bands are happy about that,” Nora commented.