Page 36 of Death at the Deep Dive

Ellery reached the bottom of the steps. “That’s right.”

A muffledArf! Arf! Arf!drifted on the evening breeze.

“It’s a good one. Must have cost you plenty.”

“It wasn’t cheap.”

“But I guess you’re not worrying about money anymore.” Tackle thrust his chin in the general direction of the yellow and coral roses and the sparkling white gravel. “You got all Brandon Abbott’s money.Conveniently.”

Ellery gave a disbelieving laugh. “What are you suggesting? There’s no mystery about who killed Brandon. As for money, authors don’t make as much money as you seem to think.”

Arf! Arf! Arf!

“They make more than you do running that bookstore.” It was hard to argue with that. Brandon had certainly made more money writing books than Ellery did selling them. Not, however, as much as Ellery had made acting. That was because Ellery had a very good agent, and Brandon’s business manager appeared to have been either incompetent or crooked.

None of which he was going to get into with Tackle Shandy, Esquire.

ARF! ARF! ARF!

Watson’s barking was getting louder and louder with each passing minute. Hopefully, he would not start hurling himself at the VW’s windows.

“Is there some reason for this visit?” Ellery inquired. “I mean, I always enjoy it when you drop in, but…”

Tackle didn’t miss Ellery’s innuendo, but he also wasn’t bothered by it. His eyes glinted with malicious mirth. He patted the lid of the box beside him.

“Gram sent you a bunch of old photos and postcards and papers. She thinks they might help you do whatever you’re supposed to be doing.”

“Thanks. That’s great.” That was an unlooked-for assist. Despite sending him on this quest, Vera had been oddly reticent to supply him with anything but the most bare bones information. Ellery interpreted that to mean she wanted answers but was afraid of what those answers might be.

“These are family heirlooms, so if anything happens to them, it’s on you.”

“I’ll take good care of them.” Ellery reached for the box.

Tackle’s hand slammed down like an anvil falling from the sky. “I hope so for your sake. Now, sowe’reclear, you’re not toopenthis box.”

Ellery straightened. “Huh?”

“You’re not to go through or even look at these photos. You’re not to ask any more questions or talk to any more people about my family. Do you understand?”

“Not really. No.”

“You take a week, two weeks, whatever you think will be convincing, and then you tell Gram you tried everything you could think of, but you couldn’t come up with anything on what happened to Vernon.”

“You want me to lie to your grandmother?”

Tackle avoided going on the record with that one. “Vernon is dead and buried, and you digging into other people’s dirt isn’t going to change that.”

“Are you sure?”

“What’s that mean?”

“Are you sure he’s buried? I thought the popular theory was he had a fatal accident while diving for treasure.”

Tackle jumped to his feet, and Ellery was pretty sure he was going to punch him, although he wasn’t exactly sure why. Was the wordtreasurea hot button? Why? It wasn’t like that was a new theory.

Then he got it.

The Shandys suspected each other of possible involvement.

---