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“Yes. This was at least fifteen years ago. I was still a kid, but I remember. She wasn’t with us for that long. She went to prison for trying to extort money from a married record producer she’d slept with.”

It took two tries to get Jack.

On the second try, Jack picked up, sounding slightly harassed. “Hey, can I call you back? I’m in the mid—”

“Yes. Just really fast. Fifteen years ago, Sibyl Simon was a backup singer for Lara Fairplay. I think she slept with Neilson Elon during that time and I think she was trying to extort money from him. I think it was Neilson she was expecting that night. Not Dylan. I think Neilson killed her.”

Jack said crisply, “Okay. I’ll call you right back.”

“Wait! Jack. There’s more. I think Neilson really is the one trying to kill Lara. I think he’s been trying to arrange a fatal accident during one of her performances, so his music company can sue the festival.”

“Okay, Ellery. Let—”

“Lara’s last performance is at one, Jack. I think Neilson is over there right now sabotaging that stage.”

Ellery ran out of breath and words about the same time.

There was a moment of silence, then Jack said, “I’m on my way. I’ll radio ahead and get some officers into that building. You don’t need to go over there.”

“Right.”

“You’re going over there, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Ellery—”

“Jack, I know theaters. I know stages. I can be of help.”

Jack made a sound of frustration. “I’ll be there in seven minutes. Don’t go in that building without me.”

“I’ll wait. I promise.”

“See you in six-point-five minutes.” Jack hung up.

* * * * *

Ellery hadn’t tried driving over to the festival before, so it took longer than he’d expected to find the area a distance from the food and entertainment, designated for parking.

He climbed out of the VW and started across the grassy field to the Loon Landing Boathouse Theater.

There was a decent crowd milling around the souvenir booths and small stages. Four different bands competed for airspace and listeners.

To his relief, he spotted Officer Martin and two other uniformed members of PICO PD jogging toward the landing.

Whoooo…. Whooooo…. WHOOOOO!

As Ellery passed the amateur stage, a familiar and alarming wail caught his attention.

It was not the sound of approaching police cars however.

Nor an ambulance.

Nor the scream of Pirate Cove’s Fire Department trucks come to save the day.

Nope. These unearthly cries were accompanied by earnesttwangof a banjo and plaintiveplinkof a ukulele?

He turned to see Nora and Kingston standing on the stage, singing for all they worth.