Page 10 of Death at the Deep Dive

“Who loves ya, baby!” returned Mortimer, and tucked his molty head beneath his wing.

Vera ignored Mortimer, abruptly stubbing out her cigarette and directing her steely gray gaze toward Ellery. “I’m not going to beat around the bush. I want you to find out who murdered my brother fifty-nine years ago.”

Ellery choked on his coffee milk but managed to recover with barely a splutter.

“That’s—I’m not really—what?”

“You found the doubloons. You must have heard the story.”

“I’ve heard a lot of stories. You’re saying the coins in the collection bag Chief Carson and I found on theRoussillonwere Vernon’s?”

She gave him an impatient look. “Who else’s?”

“Well, there’ve been a lot of divers on this island through the years.”

“Most of them don’t find gold doubloons.”

“I bet a lot of them say they do. Especially now.”

Her lip curled again in one of those odd smiles. “You might be right about that. But take my word for it. The coins you found belonged to my brother.”

Ellery nodded noncommittally. Little bit of a gray area there. Vera was relying on the Law of Finds—which was the understanding Vernon would have been operating under as well. But in 1987 the US had passed the Abandoned Shipwreck Act, which gave title of all shipwrecks “within US waters” (meaning anything found within three miles off the coastline) to the United States andnotto the discoverer of the shipwreck. If the legends surrounding theBlood Red Rosewere true, she had gone down very close to harbor. Obviously, Ellery wasn’t going to get into that now.

Vera said, “You found a World War II green canvas bag with a wooden bottom. There are a few holes in the canvas and a wooden, curved rest area and strap to secure a dive tank. One of the leather handles was detached on one end. It might be long gone by now. The handle straps were loose. There was a tag, but the name Virgil Shandy had faded out. The numbers 75-167 were painted on bottom of the bag. The bag itself was about thirty-nine inches long and eighteen inches deep.”

Nailed it. With alarming accuracy.

“Okay, I believe you, Mrs. Sutton-Shandy. I believe the bag was your brother’s and that he found those coins. But I’m not sure why you’re so sure your brother was murdered. I’m also not sure why you think I’d be the best person to find out who killed him.”

“I’m not sure you’re the best person. But you’re probably the person I can most trust.”

Ellery smiled, genuinely amused. “How do you figure that?”

“For one thing, you turned a handful of gold doubloons over to Dudley Do-Right. Which was a ninny thing to do. However, it proves you’re an honest ninny.”

“Gosh, thanks.”

Vera’s laugh was disconcertingly similar to Tackle’shar-har-harbellow. “Don’t take offense, laddie. You’ll soon see I always speak my mind. Another thing. You didn’t oppose young Neddy getting bail.”

“Oh, that.” Ellery shrugged. The fact of the matter was, he was grateful to Ned, who’d surely had mixed feelings on the subject, for not murdering him when he’d had the chance.

“You have a kind heart. Again, perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but.”

Mortimer the parrot woke up again and screamed, “Ahoy there! Ye scurvy swab!”

“I said shutup!” Vera snapped irritably.

“I said shutup!” Mortimer returned in the exact tone of voice. And then, coyly, “Who loves ya, baby!”

Ellery preserved a straight face and drank his coffee milk.

“Anyway,” Vera continued as though there had been no interruption, “the entire village knows you’re a snooper, and since you seem pretty good at it…”

“Well, thank you, I think. But I’m just a private citizen. I don’t have the resources the police do—”

“Oh yes, you do.” Vera’s smile was sly. “There’s nothing your pal Jack Carson won’t do for you. If you ask him nicely.”

“Uh…excuse me?” Ellery’s tone was exactly the right shade of how-very-dare-you, but annoyingly, Vera just laughed. Ellery said, “Clearly, we’re talking about two different Jack Carsons.”

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