Page 18 of Death at the Deep Dive

Ellery couldn’t help smiling. “Is that a compliment?”

“A compliment is when I tell you what a great smile you have or how much I like hearing you sing in shower. I’m confident you’ll come up with a plausible explanation for what happened back in ’63. More than that, who knows.” Jack’s tone was hard to read. He did not sound overjoyed, that was for sure. But he wasn’t trying to discourage Ellery from investigating, i.e.,poking his nose into other people’s business.

While Ellery was thinking that over, Jack changed the subject. “Are you staying in town tonight?”

Ellery said regretfully, “No. I’m waiting for the rain to ease up before I drive out to Captain’s Seat. I need to check on the renovations, do some laundry, make sure my key still works.” They usually spent Friday nights together. In fact, lately, they spent most nights together.

“Okay.” Jack sounded a little disappointed, but he didn’t offer to drive out to Captain’s Seat, so maybe he needed a night to himself. Fair enough.

“With the library being painted, this is a great time to go through all those boxes of Eudora’s books and maps.”

“True.”

“Speaking of which, I guess this explains why she had so many books on treasure hunting and pirate history. I just assumed she’d inherited those books the same way I did. It never occurred to meshewas the treasure hunter.”

Jack’s laugh always made Ellery’s heart lighten. “It makes sense, though, if you’d known her.”

“I’m starting to regret never having the chance.”

“You’d have liked her. She was one of a kind.” Jack’s tone changed, grew brisk, which Ellery knew meant someone had walked into his office. “Right. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Later.”

Reluctantly, Ellery clicked off.

The drive from Pirate’s Cove was a pretty and scenic thirty minutes, give or take, depending on road conditions. In the summer, those road conditions included idiots in golf carts and on mopeds and bicycles, who seemed to think the rules of the road didn’t apply when you were on vacation. In the winter, the road conditions could be anything from a stray cow to a falling tree. Rain and sleet and snow were considerations, as was flooding.

But in autumn? The shadbush leaves turned golden and the winterberry shrubs lost their leaves, revealing tiny scarlet berries. The stone walls gleamed silver, and the wet fields, turned dark with rain, were dotted with wild mushrooms and white, blue, and purple asters. The wind-twisted trees tossed their gold and yellow leaves into the wind like joyful children throwing up their arms at the approaching holidays.

Last Christmas, Ellery’s entire world had seemed to be crashing down around his ears. This Christmas, he would be meeting Jack’s family.

Time and tide.

The rain had completely stopped by the time Ellery pulled into the small “courtyard” that served as the parking area in front of Captain’s Seat. He parked and went around to open the door for Watson, who immediately took off for the back of the house, where he knew a family of squatter squirrels were hiding out. His shrill bark echoed off the slate-colored granite exterior and conical twin towers.

Arf! Arf! Arf!

The first time Ellery had seen Captain’s Seat had been in a photo sent to him by Mr. Landry, Aunt Eudora’s lawyer, and he’d laughed out loud. He’d thought for a second or two that Mr. Landry must be pulling his leg, although nothing about Mr. Landry up to that point (or afterward) indicated he was prone to jocularity.

But…seriously?

The place had looked like the mansion on the cover of a gothic suspense novel. Not that, at the time, Ellery had any idea what a gothic suspense novel was.

And when he’d finally seen the old mansion live and in technicolor? He’d felt a little light-headed. For one thing, it was so far from…anywhere. For another, it was obviously in terrible repair (and he didn’t even know the half of it). And, last but not least, it was so big. What the heck was he supposed to do with a house the size of a small tenement?

His first instinct had been to sell. Take the money and run straight back to civilization.

But, for laughs, he’d decided to spend a night or two in ye olde baronial mansion, as it were, and, well, somehow the crazy white elephant of a house had grown on him.

Maybe it was the nuttiness of the galleon-themed interior architecture. Maybe it was the realization that Captain Horatio Page, the intimidating figure in the life-sized portrait hanging in the master bedroom, was actuallyrelatedto him.

Maybe it was simply his desperation to escape the wreckage of his old life and start something,anything, new.

Anyway, he had stayed.

And now… The roses in the front garden—newly planted by himself and Jack—were in tentative bloom. The broken windows had all been replaced. A fresh new bed of glittering white gravel had been spread across the front drive. It wasn’t going to make the front cover ofHome and Gardenanytime soon, but it had a certain world-weary elegance.

He whistled to Watson, who probably couldn’t hear him over his barking, and went up the sparkling (that had been Jack wielding a pressure washer hose) steps to the front door.

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