Chapter One
Whoooo…. Whooooo…. WHOOOOO!
Ghostly wailings seemed to issue from the blackened rafters of the Crow’s Nest bookshop.
“What the hell is that noise?” Pirate Cove’s Police Chief Jack Carson stared ceilingward, his blue-green eyes wide with alarm.
Ellery Page, mystery bookshop owner and Jack’s boyfriend, took his oat milk-laced coffee from Jack’s unresisting hand. He said glumly, “The building is haunted.”
“Since when?”
“Since the Sing The Plank organizers announced there’ll be an amateur talent stage at the festival.”
“Ah.”
They listened in silence for a moment to the muffled twang of a banjo and plink of a…ukulele?
WHOOOOO… Whoooo…. Whooooo….
“Despite evidence to the contrary, the only souls suffering the torments of the damned are yours and mine.”
Jack grinned, sipped his coffee. “Is this going on during business hours?”
Ellery nearly choked on his coffee. “Don’t even joke!”
“Sorry. Have either of them ever performed before an audience?”
“It seems so. Kingston and his late wife were active in their local folk music club and Nora used to perform regularly at Pirate Cove’s Traditional Music Society.”
Jack’s brows rose. “I didn’t know we had a Traditional Music Society.”
“We don’t. Not anymore. I have my suspicions.”
Jack chuckled, started to speak, but was interrupted by Watson, Ellery’s black spaniel puppy, who dropped his squeaky toy and began to howl.
Aaah-oooooooh… Ow… Ow… Ow… Aaah-oooooooh…
Ellery sighed. “Right. That started yesterday. I’m not sure if he’s protesting or auditioning.” He called to the puppy, “It’s okay, buddy. It’s almost over.”
“Speaking of almost over.” Jack’s tone was regretful. “I’ve got to get down to the station.”
“Coward.”
Jack shook his head, leaned across the sales counter and kissed Ellery lightly. “I came for the drinks not the band.”
Ellery laughed.
Jack headed for the door, bending to tap Watson’s upturned nose with his finger. Watson cut off his serenade mid-note, looking ever so slightly sheepish. “Working late tonight?” Jack asked Ellery.
Ellery nodded.
“Are you staying at my place or heading out to Captain’s Seat?”
“Your place if that’s okay.”
“Best news of the day.” Jack winked and went out.
The brass bell on the front door swayed, chiming a fond farewell.
It was the autumn equinox and summer was officially over.
September on Buck Island was lovely. The sun cast its lazy spell over glittering water and silky sand. The skies were blue, the breezes balmy, and the crowds had thinned.
Considerably.
Which was the not-so-good news if you were in the business of selling stuff to tourists.
The Crow’s Nest clientele was not primarily of the tourista variety, but there was no denying the influx of summer visitors had plumped up their coffers considerably.
If autumn on Buck Island was anything like winter, trade was going to get pretty lean pretty fast, and Ellery was reluctantly considering whether he did in fact need two full-time employees, in addition to himself, to meet the needs of their fairly slim customer base.
He was fond of both Nora and Kingston, so the idea of letting either go—and really, there was no question of who was on the chopping block—brought him zero pleasure.
“What if we carried a few book-related gift items?” Nora mused as they drank their coffee and gazed out at the largely empty harbor.
Nora Sweeney was Ellery’s right-hand man. Er, woman. A small but stalwart seventy-something Buck Island native, she favored skirts and sensible shoes, and she always wore her long, silver hair in a ponytail.
“Why? We’re a bookstore.”
Nora shrugged. “A few extra dollars here. A few extra dollars there. It all adds up.”
“If we start selling gift items, it’s liable to look like we’re trying to compete with some of the gift shops, which is not going to go over well.”
He was thinking specifically of Janet Maples and Old Salt Stationery. Janet had only recently begun to warm up to him.
As usual, Nora understood him perfectly. “What if our book related gift items were mystery-themed?”
“Hmm.”
“I’ve been looking through that pile of catalogs in the junk room—”
“You mean, my office?”
“Er, your office, and I’ve come up with a list of possibilities.” She fished around in her pocket and handed over a long and crumpled list.
Ellery smoothed out the paper and squinted at Nora’s cramped writing. “Cozy mystery coloring books? Murder mystery dinner party game? Cozy mystery day planner? Nancy Drew jigsaw puzzles? Mystery-themed Christmas ornaments?”
“The holidays are coming.”
“You say that like it’s a good thing.” Nora looked at him in surprise. “I’m kidding,” Ellery said, although he wasn’t entirely sure about that. Jack had mentioned in passing that his family really, really wanted him to come “home” for Christmas this year.
Nora said, “There are key chains, pins, earrings…”
“There’s a lot to choose from,” Ellery agreed. “My concern is the financial outlay.”
“You have to spend money to earn money.”
“You have to have money to spend money,” Ellery retorted.
“We could start with a few choice items and see how it goes.”
Ellery sighed. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Nora’s idea. But, having only recently pulled out of the red, he was understandably cautious. Last year, he’d had his savings to fall back on. This year, he had no savings left with which to weather the inevitable inevitables.
Nora studied him, said, “Or not. Kingston’s come up what I think is a very good idea for bringing in new customers.”
“Kingston has?” Not that Ellery didn’t think Kingston was full of good ideas. He was just surprised to hear Nora touting them. Not so long ago, Nora had viewed Kingston as a rival and competitor if not outright villain. Slowly but surely, that had changed, which was yet another reason Ellery really didn’t want to have to break up the act.
Nora said—in the tone adults use to try to convince toddlers that vegetables are delicious mealtime treats, “What if we were to offer a children’s story hour on weekends?”
Ellery gazed at her in alarm. “We who? We don’t sell children’s books. Do they even make mysteries for children?”
“They do, dearie, but we wouldn’t have to limit ourselves to mysteries.”
“We’re a mystery bookshop.”
“Yes. We are. We’re also the island’s only real bookstore. Which presents us with a unique opportunity to serve Pirate Cove’s littlest customer base.”
“Littlest and most financially strapped.”
Nora laughed. “If there’s one thing people like to spend money on, it’s their children. And, even more so, their grandchildren. Pirate’s Cove doesn’t have endless amusements for little ones.”
“These kids are the descendants of pirates. Maybe they prefer brawling and boozing.”
Nora snorted. “While the children are listening to such classics as Pete the Pirate and The Pirates Next Door, their parents can browse our mystery-themed gifts or pick up something they might like to read.”
“And who exactly would be conducting this story hour?” Ellery asked warily.
“Kingston.”
“Kingston?” Ellery relaxed. “Oh. Well, in that case, yeah. That’s not a bad idea. In fact, it’s kind of a good idea. Are we going to purchase copies of these story books?”
“A few. I’m sure we’d sell a handful or so.” Nora eyed him knowingly. “In fact, you could probably come in an hour or so later on Saturdays. Kingston and I can easily handle the sales floor during that period. Especially during our slow season.”
Ellery considered the possibility of a little extra time with Jack. “Actually, Nora, that’s a great idea.”
Nora beamed. “I’ll let Kingston know you’ve given us your seal of approval.”
Dylan Carter, one of Ellery’s closest friends in Pirate’s Cove, phoned shortly after Ellery returned from lunch on the pier.
“What do you say to lunch?”
Watson, with his tendency to bark at the ever-present seagulls—as well as other dogs, babies in strollers, and every stray piece of trash the wind picked up, was not always the ideal mealtime companion, but he was Ellery’s most frequent, so it was disappointing to have to turn Dylan down.
“I’d have said sure, but I already ate.”
“Ah. I see.” Dylan sounded more distracted than disappointed. “Well, what about joining the rest of us for a drink or dessert? Or both?”
“The rest of us who?”
In addition to owning to owning the Toy Chest and managing the Scallywags, Pirate’s Cove’s local theater guild, Dylan was also one of the organizers of Pirate Cove’s annual Sing the Plank maritime music festival, but Ellery’s fear was that by the rest of us Dylan meant Summer Simmons, his girlfriend.
Dylan’s relationship with Summer had grown increasingly rocky over the past couple of months, and Ellery wanted to give wide berth to any potential public uproar.
But Dylan said, “Lara Fairplay and her entourage, for starters. The Sing the Plank organizers…”
“Lara Fairplay?” Singer-songwriter Lara Fairplay was headlining Sing the Plank, and while Ellery was not a huge fan of folk music, even he was aware that getting Lara Fairplay to appear at their relatively small festival was a huge coup for the island as a whole and the organizers in particular.
“Lara, her husband, her sister…Sue.” Dylan’s tone seemed to grow vague.
“Wait a sec,” Ellery interrupted. “Her sister, Sue or her sister and Sue. As in Sue Lewis, my arch-nemesis.”
Sue Lewis was the owner and editor in chief for the Scuttlebutt Weekly, Pirate Cove’s newspaper. Unfortunately, from their first meeting, Sue and Ellery had rubbed each other the wrong way—and things had gone downhill from there.
“Now, you don’t really think Sue is your arch-nemesis,” Dylan chided. “That’s ancient history, isn’t it?”
“I don’t consider Sue my arch-nemesis, no. She considers me her arch-nemesis.
“She really doesn’t. Sue’s…er…she’s a kinder, gentler Sue. You’ll see.”
“I’ll see from a distance,” Ellery said. “Seriously, though, I already took my break. I can’t just leave Nora and Kingston to—”
“Yes, you can!” Nora chirped from behind him.
Ellery scowled at her.
“We’re fine here. Go. Have fun!” Nora made shooing motions.
“See?” Dylan put in. “Nora’s got it under control.”
“Yeeeah. Just a reminder to you and Nora: I’m actually the one in charge here.”
Both Nora and Dylan chortled at this quaint notion.
“Okay, whatever, but I really can’t just—”
Dylan cut in with an apologetic, “The thing is, I have an ulterior motive in asking you to lunch.”
Ellery sighed. “Believe me, I already figured that much out.”
“But before you agree, you need to, well, see the lay of the land.”
“Before I agree?” Ellery gave a disbelieving laugh. “That’s taking things for granted.”
“Well, after all, everyone in Pirate’s Cove knows this kind of thing is like catnip for you.”
“What kind of thing?”
“Mysteries. Puzzles. Who-dunnits.”
“You want me to solve a mystery?”
“It’s a paying gig. We want to hire you.”
If anything, Ellery’s wariness grew. “You want to hire me to solve a mystery. What kind of mystery?”
Dylan hesitated. “I suppose it’s a little bit of a…a who-dunnit.”
Uh oh. “Who done what?”
Dylan said airily, “If you want to learn the answer to that—and other questions–you’ll just have to come to lunch. The Seacrest Inn at one o’clock.”
And with that, he hung up.
