Page 83

Blow, ye winds in the morning,

and blow, ye winds, high-o!

Clear away your running gear,

and blow, ye winds, high-o!

The crowd obligingly joined in on the chorus. Nora and Kingston beamed at each other.

Ellery glanced back at the landing and saw Neilson coming out through the tall doors of the boathouse. He was talking with Olive Earl, one of the Sing the Plank committee members. Olive was nodding and smiling.

It all seemed pretty benign, and Ellery felt a twinge of unease.

It was going to be awkward if it turned out Neilson had simply been going over the stage map with the lighting tech.

But as he watched, Neilson looked away from Olive, and caught sight of the approaching officers.

Officer Martin recognized Neilson, spoke to his uniformed companions, and then pointed at their target. It wasn’t subtle.

Nor was it subtle when the three officers started running toward the boathouse.

Maybe it was guilt. Maybe it was instinct. Maybe it was the natural reaction to three people shouting and running toward you at full speed, that made Neilson turn and bolt, but bolt he did.

He raced for the golf cart parked at the side of the boathouse and threw himself into the driver’s seat. He started the golf cart which began to bump and bounce its way across the grass.

Neilson beeped the horn frantically as he dragged the wheel left and started toward the meadow. The trio of officers ran a little way after him, then slowed to a walk, then came to a stop.

The buzz of the golf cart faded as the cart grew smaller in the distance.

Ellery turned as Jack jogged up. “I don’t know where he thinks he’s going.”

Jack’s grin was sardonic. “Not far. That’s for sure.”

In silence they watched the golf cart slow as Neilson tried to jerk and yank his way through the tall grass and mud of the soggy marshland. The engine’s whine grew higher, higher, as the cart went slower, slower…and eventually fell onto its side.

Chapter Twenty

“You were partly right,” Jack said. “Elon deliberately removed some of the grounding from the sound system. All Lara would have had to do was grab the mic while she was holding her guitar, and it would have been all she wrote.”

It was long after midnight on Sunday night. Ellery and Jack were sitting in front of the fireplace in the front parlor at Captain’s Seat, having a late-night drink. The cheerful fire, the first of the autumn season, cast playful light over the old portraits and faded furniture.

“Partlyright?” Ellery echoed, holding his brandy snifter away from Watson’s curious inspection.

“He was trying to kill her. No question in my mind. Elon’s fingerprints were on the cable that supposedly snapped when that PAR can light fell on Friday night. There’s only one explanation for his prints being up there. He tampered with the cable.”

“You checked the rigging for fingerprints?” Ellery was impressed. It hadn’t occurred to him fingerprints could be recovered.

“I know,” Jack said. “It’s like I think I’m a cop or something.”

Ellery spluttered a laugh, then asked, “Did he confess?”

“Nope. He’s exercising his right to keep his mouth shut. Which is wise.”

“Is out on bail?”

“No. The soon-to-be former Mrs. Elon has no interest in bailing him out. She seems to be in no doubt as to his intentions.”

“Poor Lara.”