Page 23 of Death at the Deep Dive

“Not what I expected.”

“Don’t underestimate her.”

“No. I won’t.”

“Vera’s sole allegiance is to her family.”

“I believe it. She’s on my list. Well, the list I keep in my head.”

Jack gave a quiet laugh. “You must show me that filing system sometime.”

“You don’t think Vera could commit murder?”

“She’s capable, you’re right about that. Cool-headed, nerves of steel, a fast thinker. But she’s also smart and practical. I think Vera would also find a smarter, safer way to deal with an enemy. Also, like I said, family is always first with Vera. It would take a lot for Vera to kill one of her own.”

“A fortune in pirate’s gold?”

“More than that, I think.”

Ellery tended to think Jack was right.

For a few minutes neither spoke, the only sounds the fire’s song, the wind whispering outside, and the squeaks and creaks of a very old house settling down to sleep.

“Any word from Dylan?” Jack asked quietly.

Ellery shook his head. Dylan Carter was perhaps his closest friend in Pirate’s Cove. He owned the Toy Chest, the charming little toy and games store right next to the Crow’s Nest, and he ran the local amateur theater guild known as the Scallywags.

“The break will do him good.”

Ellery nodded again but said nothing. After the events of the previous month, his loyalties were a little divided. He understood and sympathized wholeheartedly with Dylan’s feelings. But he also understood Jack’s point of view. Either way, he missed Dylan, and he missed the Monday Night Scrabblers.

“Then no Monday game night?” Jack questioned.

“No.” Ellery gave him a sideways look. “The Silver Sleuths are holding an emergency meeting. All hands on deck.”

Jack closed his eyes as if in great pain, and Ellery snickered.

“Don’t worry. I’ll keep a close eye on them.”

Jack shook his head. “The touching innocence of you imagining you haveanycontrol over those maniacs.”

“You have to admit, they’ve been pretty helpful a few times.”

“Oh no. No, I don’t have to admit anything like that. Maybe,maybethey’ve somehow been helpful to you, but they’ve not been helpful to me.”

Ellery grinned. “HaveIbeen helpful to you?”

Jack turned his head to nuzzle Ellery. He said softly, “You, Mr. Page, are a whole different story.”

Chapter Eight

“If I drop this, you’ll be sleeping in a dog house from here on out,”muttered the voice in his dreams.

Ellery frowned, tried to weave that dialogue into the pleasant scenario that had been developing a moment or two before, but the alarmingrattleof crockery,clinkof silverware, andcreakof straining wood dissipated the last delightful wisps.

His nose twitched, his eyelids fluttered, his lips parted, and a warm mouth gently, sweetly pressed his own once, twice—only to be rudely shoved aside by a long, whiskery snout panting sweet nothings into his face before covering him in eager licks.

He started to laugh—which was a tactical error.

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