Ellery chatted briefly with Locke, who he knew owned the Legacy, a 213-foot yacht usually anchored in the harbor at Pirate’s Cove. Locke introduced Ellery to several more people, all of whom fell in the category of summer folk and were strangers to him. Most professed amazement that there was a bookstore on the island.
At last Ellery escaped and was free to wander and investigate the really sumptuous spread of hors d’oeuvres, which included a variety of caviars, country pâté toasts, and pop-up oysters. There had not been time for lunch that day, and he was enjoying sampling everything until he spotted Philippa Jones, the soon-to-be ex-wife of Pirate Cove’s former mayor, and made a quick about-face. He knew firsthand that Philippa held him to blame for all her family’s misfortunes.
Funny how in most cozy mysteries, no one seemed to hold a grudge against the sleuth. Not so in real life. Which didn’t feel quite fair. It wasn’t like Ellery had ever set out to bring anyone to justice. Mostly his sleuthing had been forced upon him by outside circumstances. Regardless of what Jack thought.
In fact, Jack was one of those outside circumstances.
Anyway, Ellery’s sharp turn brought him face-to-face with the editor and owner of the Scuttlebutt Weekly, Sue Lewis. She wasn’t much older than him, petite, and pretty in a bronze satin gown with gold embroidery. Sue had not bothered trying to arrange her long, straight blonde hair in anything resembling historical accuracy, but she did wear a bronze satin mask.
“Hi, Sue,” Ellery said.
Sue was no fonder of Ellery than Philippa, though with less reason (whether she knew it or not), and she smiled with narrowed eyes.
“Look who’s here. The notorious Ellery Page.”
“Notorious?” Ellery murmured. “That seems a bit much.”
“If the pirate boots fit,” Sue said.
They didn’t actually, and Ellery was seriously beginning to regret letting Nora and Dylan pressure him into wearing them.
“Are you having a nice time?” Ellery asked. He really hated confrontation.
Unfortunately, Sue really loved it.
Her lips curled into a nasty smile. “Oh please. You don’t fool me with that boy-next-door act.”
“Now you know why I gave up acting.” Ellery smiled too, and slipped past her.
He bumped literally into Dylan, who had stepped into an alcove to adjust his parrot.
“There you are,” Dylan said. “I don’t know about you, but I need a real drink.”
“I don’t think there’s anything but champagne.”
“The bar’s on the terrace out back.” Dylan hooked a thumb over his shoulder and knocked his parrot loose again. He swore.
“Here.” Ellery did his best to fasten the drunkenly swaying parrot to the shoulder of Dylan’s vest.
They headed through the crowded main room and out through one of the open Palladian doors leading onto the terrace. The air was cooler outside and smelled of freshly mown grass and night-blooming flowers.
The flagstone terrace was as large as the grand and formal room they just left. Tiny white lights were wound around giant urns and strung along the surrounding walls. People sat at small wooden tables, listening to the Fish and Chippies playing “Drunken Sailor.” A few couples were trying to dance.
“It’s like a different party out here,” Ellery said.
“Exactly.” Dylan led the way to the bar on the other end of the terrace.
The line moved quickly, they got their drinks—you had to love a hosted bar—and moved away. Dylan was instantly waylaid by a woman hoping to audition for the Scallywags, and Ellery moved tactfully out of earshot.
There were no empty chairs at the tables, but he found a nice stretch of wall between the Palladian doors to lean against.
He was watching the band and the dancers when he noticed he was not alone.
A few feet away, a tall man was smiling at him. It was hard to be sure in the skittish light, but he seemed to be wearing black Gothic Death Pants, a doublet of indeterminate color, and a black mask that emphasized glittering light eyes.
“Hi,” Ellery said.
That seemed to be all the invitation needed. The man joined him, smiling broadly in the gloom.
“Hello.” He offered his hand. “I’m Julian Bloodworth.”
“Oh. Hey,” Ellery said. “Very nice to meet you.”
“And you, of course, are Ellery Page.”
“I am,” Ellery admitted. “Thank you for the invite.” They continued to smile at each other.
“Movie star, playwright, and amateur sleuth.”
“Mostly humble bookseller,” Ellery said, and Julian laughed as though Ellery had said something brilliantly funny.
“You’re way too modest.”
“Not really.”
“I have to tell you, I love the Crow’s Nest. When we were here in February, I was there every week buying books.”
“Were you?” Ellery didn’t remember Julian, but he’d been pretty preoccupied the first weeks he’d moved to Pirate’s Cove. Also, still recovering from the breakup with Todd, he had been determinedly disinterested in meeting anyone new. A man as attractive as Julian would have had the reverse effect on him. “Thanks for supporting the shop.”
“And I’ve seen all your movies a million times.”
“It’s actually the same movie over and over again,” Ellery felt compelled to point out.
Again, Julian gave one of those shouts of laughter. “I’m so glad you decided to accept our invitation. I’ve been dying to meet you forever. I couldn’t think of a way.”
Ellery tilted his head, studying Julian. “You could always have come up and introduced yourself.”
Julian made a face. He sounded almost nervous as he admitted, “I was afraid you’d think I was a stalker.”
“Really? Are you a stalker?”
Julian laughed again. Said cheerfully, “You’ll soon find out!”
They chatted some more about books and movies. By then both the band and the crowd were getting louder and livelier.
Julian said, “You want to go inside and find a corner where we can hear ourselves?”
“Sure,” Ellery said.
They stepped inside the crowded room, and Julian slipped a companionable arm through Ellery’s.
The violins were playing delicate counterpoint to a cello and viola.
“Where did you ever find a string quartet in Pirate’s Cove?” Ellery asked. He knew Dylan was always on the hunt for musicians for the theater.
Julian seemed amused. “A family friend plays for the New York Symphony. She put this ensemble together for us.”
“Wow, that’s amazing.”
“Yes. We’re very grateful.”
Julian was his own age or perhaps slightly younger. In the shimmering light from the chandeliers, Ellery could see that Julian’s wavy hair was white-blond and his eyes were the same striking gray as his mother’s. He was an attractive guy, no question.
“There won’t be anyone in the…” Julian was saying.
Ellery missed the rest of it because they came face-to-face—well, actually, face-to-back—with Jack.
Chapter Seven
Ellery had been laying bets with himself that Jack would not deign to dress up for the ball, but he’d been wrong about that. Jack was in costume. Subdued costume, but definitely costume. He wore trim fawn breeches, a nicely fitted dark-brown frock coat, a brown tricorn, and brown pirate boots.