“Morning, Chief!” called Gail McGillicuddy from the doorway of Garden Isles flower shop.
Jack nodded hello. “Morning, Mrs. McGillicuddy.”
“How’s it going, Chief?” Ezra Christmas called from across the street.
“Can’t complain, Mr. Christmas.”
Jack was a man on a mission. Well, maybe it was more man on an expedition. No. Not expedition. Exploration. Exploratory testing. That was it. Anyway, for the past week he’d been back and forth on whether to, well, proceed to the next square where a certain mystery bookstore owner was concerned.
This morning he had woken to sunshine and the unoriginal but nonetheless true thought that you never knew until you tried. Yes, if things did not go well, it was probably the end of a budding friendship as well. But maybe not. Ellery really did seem like a reasonable guy and, more importantly, not in any rush to get deeply involved.
Jack strode briskly down the cobbled streets of Pirate’s Cove conscious, for the first time in a long time, of how sweet the fresh salty air was, how the sunlight dazzled on the water in the cove.
Dylan Carter stood outside the Toy Chest, sweeping the wooden steps.
Jack raised his hand in greeting. “Carter.”
“Chief.” Carter nodded cordially, glanced automatically at the shop next door to his: the Crow’s Nest. “Beautiful day for it,” he said rather cryptically.
Yeah, well, hopefully. It was a beautiful day, no lie there.
Jack’s heart slightly picked up tempo at a glimpse of Ellery Page through the Crow’s Nest’s windows, which amused him. But sure. It had been a while since he’d asked anyone out. He’d shared a few meals with Sue, but that had been very casual and Sue had mostly done the asking.
In fact, that was one reason he was being extra cautious now. He had failed to recognize Sue’s interest in him for what it was until things had progressed to the point where she got her feelings hurt. He felt bad about that. He liked Sue, Sue was attractive, but Jack had not been looking for anything more than pleasant and occasional company.
And, frankly, that was still all he was looking for. Although there was no question, he was a lot more attracted to Ellery than he’d been to Sue. In fact, he was a lot more attracted to Ellery than he’d been to anyone in a very long time.
Which was why he was feeling a little bit…elevated as his eyes met Ellery’s through the front door window. Ellery smiled the smile that had launched a million tubes of toothpaste, and Jack smiled back.
The bell rang in cheery welcome as he stepped inside the Crow’s Nest. He glanced around and, for once, the coast appeared to be clear.
“Why, howdy, Sheriff,” Ellery greeted him.
Jack grinned. Ellery’s idea of a Western accent was pure Bonanza.
“Why, howdy, Mr. Page,” Jack drawled.
“T’warn’t fixin’ to see you quite so soon.”
Jack grimaced and dropped the drawl. “I know. I have to take a rain check on lunch. Emergency town-council meeting.”
“Oh.” Ellery looked flatteringly disappointed. “That’s too bad. What’s the emergency?”
A policeman’s lot was frequently not a happy one; that was a fact. At least for the policeman’s prospective dates. It took a special kind of person to put up with the vagaries and disappointments of a cop’s work schedule. So far, Ellery had passed the test with flying colors. He was always agreeably sorry when their plans were cancelled, but never resentful or difficult.
That made life so much easier—and a relationship so much more possible.
Jack replied, “The lack of any game plan to handle the media once they arrive for the trial.”
“Ugh. Right.”
Ellery’s open distaste for the media could probably be laid at Sue’s door. It was hard to imagine that a former actor had always been so hostile to the idea of free publicity. But Sue had done a real hatchet job on him during the days he’d been suspected of murdering Trevor Maples, and her public retraction/apology had smacked more than a little of people who refuse to explain themselves when they’re offered a chance, have only themselves to blame if the wrong conclusions are drawn.
“Yeah. Anyway, I was wondering—” Jack broke off as Watson, the black spaniel-mix puppy Ellery had adopted, wandered out of his crate behind the counter to say hello.
Jack had always had a soft spot for dogs. In fact, when he’d first joined LAPD, he’d considered joining the K9 Unit. He squatted down. “Hey, you little rascal.”
Watson’s scrunchy little face brightened—people who thought dogs didn’t have expressions were plain wrong—and he threw himself on his back, squirming in anticipation of the tummy tickle that was coming.
Ellery shook his head, smiling, and for a moment his gaze tangled with Jack’s.
He really did have very pretty eyes. That shade of brown was like a color in old tapestry.
The moment ended abruptly as Mrs. Nelson sailed around a tall bookshelf’s end cap.
“Oh! Chief Carson. I thought I recognized your voice.”
Damn.
It was surprisingly difficult to find Ellery on his own these days. Not that Jack begrudged him his customers. Ellery needed to make a living in order to stay on the island—and Jack definitely wanted him to stay on the island.
Jack rose. “Mrs. Nelson. How are you?”
As Mrs. Nelson brought him up to date, Ellery retreated to the sales desk where Jane Smith met him, balancing a tall stack of used paperbacks.
“But if I’ve told him once, I’ve told him a million times, don’t exaggerate, Thomas,” Mrs. Nelson was saying.
Jack nodded automatically. Watson had decided to try gnawing on the toe of his boot in a bid for attention. “Hey, you,” Jack muttered out of the side of his mouth. He wiggled his foot discouragingly—to Watson’s delight.
“Ring these up, dear.” Ms. Smith instructed Ellery, before turning to Jack. “Chief Carson, how is the Maples case coming along?”
Ms. Smith, like everyone else with a subscription to Netflix, believed herself to be some kind of amateur detective savant.
“We’re gathering evidence and building our case, Ms. Smith.”
“The circumstantial evidence alone ought to be enough to secure a conviction.”
“I prefer direct evidence.” Jack glanced at Ellery and just managed not to roll his eyes. Ellery’s smile was more of a grimace. He was understandably touchy about people being convicted without a boatload of evidence.
Mrs. Nelson, who had moved on to her numerous but non-life-threatening physical ailments, cut in. “Call me old-fashioned, but I don’t trust a doctor younger than my grandchildren.”
“Isn’t your youngest grandchild around eight years old?” Jack inquired.
“I always suspected there was something up with that man.” Mrs. Ferris popped her head out of the True Crime section.
Good God. Another one? The bookstore was starting to feel like a page out of Find the Rabbit in the Picture.
“His taste in sports coats was a clear indicator of a deranged psyche,” Mrs. Ferris added.
Were they still talking about Mrs. Nelson’s doctor? Jack wasn’t sure.
“Juries like circumstantial evidence,” Ms. Smith insisted.
Which…yes and no. Juries liked clear cut motives, and motive was often a big part of circumstantial evidence. The problem was, motive was one of the least reliable indicators of guilt. It was just too subjective.
Ellery suddenly darted around the counter and dashed past them toward the front door. And who could blame him?
But no. His patience hadn’t finally snapped. The pup—Watson—noticing the front door had opened onto a world full of new and exciting vistas, was navigating an obstacle course of shoes and shopping bags on his way to new adventures.
“No, you don’t!” Ellery scooped up the black furball.
Watson blinked up at him adoringly; the potential customers backed out again.
Ellery glanced over, caught Jack’s eye, and smiled ruefully as if he knew what had been in Jack’s thoughts.
Did he?
Ellery glanced past Jack at the huddle in front of the cash register, and sighed. Jack sighed, too, because it was clear to him that he wasn’t going to have an opportunity to talk to Ellery on his own.
