Page 32 of Death at the Deep Dive

“If Eudora Page really was Josephine’s romantic rival, she might not wish to reveal her darkest secrets to Eudora’s nephew.”

Not a bad point. Still Ellery felt obliged to say, “She’s not going to reveal her darkest secrets to a complete stranger either.”

“You’ve never been to one of those places, have you, dearie? I assure you, Josephine will bedelightedto spill the tea to a handsome, personable young man.Especiallya handsome, personable young man working on a book about the island’s unsolved mysteries.”

Ellery said slowly, “I’d be lying if I pretended it doesn’t concern me how easily you come up with these fabrications.”

“Nonsense.” Nora made shooing motions. “Hurry up! Don’t be late. Andbecharming.”

Unlike most of Buck Island’s forthright and hardworking New England architecture, Sunset Shores seemed to have been modeled on a villa vacationing in the south of France.

Surrounded by needle palm trees and surprisingly lush tropical gardens, the creamy-colored stucco single-story building featured an angled tile roof and an interplay of solid walls and colonnades opening into large spaces with enormous windows and sliding doors to create the illusion of living within the garden.

Which, frankly, was something Ellery had never longed to do, though he could see how residents of an assisted living facility might have different view. Literally.

In his opinion, Sunset Shores was about as unhomey as a place could be, and clean to the point of sterility. The air in the reception lobby was scented with a peculiar blend of bleach, disinfectant, and tropical air freshener. That said, they were expecting him at the front desk, and he was greeted pleasantly and whisked straight to Mrs. Franklin’s room without delay.

His escort, a young woman in pink scrubs, tapped discreetly on the half-open door and called, “Joey, Mr. Parker is here.”

“Send him in!” ordered a raspy, sexless voice.

The young woman pushed the door wide, nodded to Ellery in what was clearlygood luck, bucko!and departed hastily on soundless, rubber-soled feet.

Ellery entered the room, which turned out to be an unexpectedly light and airy suite. It took him a second or two to pick out Josephine from the piles of throw pillows on the sofa and chairs. A tiny, gaunt woman seated in the corner of the sofa, leaned slightly forward, braced on her cane, watching him with bright black button eyes. She was as wrinkled as a mummy, but her talon-length nails were freshly manicured in aqua blue. She wore scarlet lipstick, false eyelashes, and an obvious wig in an expensive shade of ash blonde.

All of which sounded pretty ghastly, but in fact, the general effect was just sort of…whimsical.

“Where the hell are my cigarettes?” Joey greeted him.

“Sorry. They frisked me on the way in,” Ellery lied. He held up a bouquet of yellow roses. “I managed to get these through, though.”

Josephine threw her head back and cackled. “I believe it! I believe it! Those damn spoilsports!”

(She didn’t sayspoilsports, by the way, but you already knew that.)

“Thank you so much for agreeing to see me, Mrs. Franklin.”

She waved that off. “Call me Joey, everyone does. You can use the flower vase in the cabinet beneath the wet bar.”

Ellery threw her a quick look, and she cackled again. “Well,Icall it a wet bar.”

Ellery found the flower vase, filled it with water, and added the flowers.

“You can put them here on the table beside me. I love roses. My son James always brings houseplants. Like I want to be bothered taking care of a moth orchid.” She winked, cocked her head, inspecting Ellery. “My, my,my. How tall are you?”

“Six feet.”

“You’re a nice-looking young feller.”

“You’re very kind.”

Josephine snorted. “There’s a first for everything. You can sit right there. So, your assistant said you’re writing a book. You don’t look much like an author.”

Ellery seated himself on a chair so low to the ground, it felt like he was squatting. “It’s my first book. I probably won’t start looking like an author until my third or fourth.”

She laughed, but it was automatic, as though her mind were on something else. “What made you choose Buck Island of all places?”

“Uh…distant family connections. My dad used to spend summers here when he was a kid. And, you know, pirates.”

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