Page 56 of Death at the Deep Dive

The shadow did not move. That was just as well. If the rocking chair had creaked, if that shadow has so much aswavered, he’d have shot through the roof like a rocket.

“If you’re…family, Iknowyou didn’t…wouldn’t. I know and I’m trying to-to help.”

Silence.

A silence as dark and bottomless as the floor of the ocean. As the grave.

“I’m doing the best I can,” he whispered.

Wait.He peered more closely. He was starting to imagine things. There was nothing in that room but moonlight and shadows.

From down the hall, Watson began to howl.

Ellery backed out of the doorway, turned, and sprinted down the hall. He said breathlessly, “It’s okay, buddy. I’m seeing things.” He felt around for the light switch, and tired light from a crystal light fixture illuminated the long, empty hall.

Fueled by adrenaline, he made his rounds in seven minutes, racing down the hall, then leaping into bed and checking his phone as his cell phone dinged with a text from Jack.

???

Ellery texted back:Hatches battened. Bilges pumped. Which probably did not mean what he thought it did, but whatever. If he texted:I think the house is haunted, Jack would think he’d lost it.

After a couple of seconds Jack texted:xo.

And just like that everything was okay again. Ellery could even laugh at himself.

A little.

Monday morning was so utterly ordinary, Ellery felt as though he’d stumbled into an alternate universe.

It was Kingston’s day off, so Ellery and Nora spent the morning doing bookstore stuff. Or at least, trying to remember how to do bookstore stuff.

Nora filled in the gaps of their much-picked over Halloween-themed collection—and prepared for the soon to follow sale of that same collection. Ellery did payroll, placed a few small orders with publishers, and tried to hunt down a couple of out-of-print special requests.

All morning long, “customers” wandered in and out. Most were conscientious enough to buysomething—more often than not small mystery-themed gift items rather than an actual book—but the real purpose of these visits was to gossip about Ellery’s shocking find the previous afternoon.

From a bookseller’s POV, it was exasperating. But from an amateur sleuth’s POV, this slow trickle of opinion and information was actually pretty useful.

Public opinion leaned toward the theory that one of Tackle’s criminal associates from the mainland had traveled to Pirate’s Cove to “take him out.” One or two people suggested a fatal family quarrel, although this was usually contested by other armchair detectives who insisted the Shandys never turned on each other.

“There’s some truth to that,” Nora told Ellery as the doorbell chimed farewell behind Elinor Christmas. “The Shandys may feud with each other, but in four hundred years there’s been no record of any Shandy laying hand on another.”

“Just because there’s no record doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

Nora’s gaze was approving. “Very true, dearie. But in this case, what would be the motive?”

“Pirate’s treasure.”

“It’s a good motive in itself, yes. But.”

“He broke in both here and at Captain’s Seat trying to retrieve those gold coins.”

“There’s no question Tackle would have done anything and everything he could think of to lay his hands on that treasure. But the Shandys would surely know better than anyone how you ended up with those coins. They’d also know Tackle had no clue where the treasure is hidden.Ifit’s hidden anywhere. The assumption that the coins indicate a greater treasure could be totally false. The coins might be all there is.”

Ellery thought that over and made a face. “True.” He said ruefully, “It turns out I want to believe in the lost treasure of theBlood Red Roseas much as anyone.”

“Of course you do. It’s a wonderful legend.”

“Okay, well, maybe Tackle’s death has nothing to do with the treasure. Maybe his wife killed him for reasons we don’t know. For…spending all his time hunting for treasure instead of mowing the lawn.”

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