The Crow’s Nest would never be mistaken for a cash cow, but at least during the summer months they were holding their own.
“Guess what?” Ellery said when Nora came in a short while later.
“You’ve been invited to the Marauder’s Masquerade,” Nora said.
Ellery closed his mouth.
“Sorry, dearie,” Nora said. “But didn’t I tell you?”
“You missed your calling, Nora. You should have been a fortune teller.”
Nora preened. “It doesn’t take special powers to recognize the inevitable. Obviously, you would be invited.”
“Well, it wasn’t obvious to me. Anyway—”
“Oh, you have to go!” Once again Nora seemed to read his mind.
“If I can figure out some kind of costume, I will. It has to be pirate gear, right?”
“Seventeenth or eighteenth century finery. That won’t be a problem,” Nora assured him.
Ellery raised an eyebrow. “It won’t?”
“No, no.”
They were interrupted by the first customer of the day. And it really was a customer! A middle-aged man looking for something on the lines of Tripp Ellis. Nora steered him to Nelson DeMille, James Rollins, and John McKinna.
The customer bought four paperbacks, and Ellery and Nora high-fived each other as the front door swung closed behind him.
Later, when Ellery was setting up the clearance table, he said, “I was reading about Tom Blood last night.”
“Oh yes?”
“The Gentleman Pirate according to Pirates of New England.”
Nora sniffed. She took a dim view of “prettified” history, which, in her opinion, was any history book written before 1975. “He could have been worse, I suppose. You’ll see his portrait when you attend the masquerade. It hangs in the great hall. It was painted by Augustine Clement.”
“There’s a reproduction in the book.”
“That’s right. Well, handsome is as handsome does.” Nora finished dusting the Riker display with its trove of shells, seahorses, and starfish. She stepped back to admire her handiwork.
“Has the wreck of the Blood Red Rose ever been discovered?”
“No.”
“Do you think the legends are true? That she sank off the coast of Buck Island?”
“It’s very possible. Just because she hasn’t been found doesn’t mean she isn’t there.”
“Are the Bloodworths actually direct descendants of Tom Blood?”
“Oh yes. There’s no mistaking that nose. Or those eyes.”
“Huh?”
“There’s a distinct familial resemblance undiluted through the generations. You’ll see when you view the portrait. They used to call Marguerite the Pirate’s Granddaughter. She bears such a strong physical resemblance to Tom Blood. Physical and…”
Nora didn’t finish the thought.
“And?” Ellery inquired.
Nora said vaguely, “I hate to spread gossip, dearie.”
Since when? Ellery managed to keep that to himself. “Of course,” he said gravely. “Why, it’s been nearly a week since your last contribution to the Gossip Jar.”
Nora brightened. “That’s true. I’m a changed woman.”
Ellery teased, “Well, don’t change too much. Everything I know about Buck Island, I learned from you.”
“Well, in the interests of broadening your historical knowledge of the island, it was Tom Blood who came up with the idea of building the system of tunnels beneath Pirate’s Cove. He was very much involved in deciding how the island would be governed. Up until Tom Blood, the island had no political infrastructure. It was every man or pirate for himself. Tom Blood convinced his fellow marauders that it would be to their benefit to put hand-picked representatives into key positions to deal with the pesky Royal Navy or any mainland excise men who showed up. His name appears on the village charter.”
“So…one of our founding fathers?”
“Ha!” Nora considered, admitted, “But yes. Frankly, he was.”
“I read that Blood used to anchor his ship in a hidden cove—although, why? Since the whole island was a pirate hideout?”
“That’s true. The Blood Red Rose used to lie anchored in the cove beneath Seal Point. That was later on. After he had fallen out with some of his fellow pirates.”
“I see. And how can there be descendants of Tom Blood when his bride threw herself in the ocean?”
“Maria Catalina Isabella de Fontana was Captain Blood’s second bride. Assuming he actually wed the poor child. He was already married, of course, and had several children with Eleanor Gilbert.”
Ellery was unsure if Nora meant Eleanor Gilbert was the first Mrs. Captain Blood or an additional dalliance. Not that the first Mrs. Captain Blood would be a dalliance.
In any case, the subject changed as the bell on the front door jingled cheerfully, and Nora’s niece, Nan Sweeny, stepped inside. “It’s going to be a hot one!” she announced.
Nan owned the Seacrest Inn and was Pirate Cove’s acting mayor until the next special election could be held—which it seemed no one was in a hurry to do. Like her aunt, Nan was short, slim, and a bundle of energy. Her hair was worn in a glossy brown bob, and her eyes were bright with humor and intelligence.
“Morning!” Ellery said.
Nan looked from Ellery to Nora. “Did Auntie tell you?”
“Tell me what?” Ellery glanced warily at Nora.
“I didn’t have a chance, dearie,” Nora apologized.
“Ellery, we want you to be Mr. April.”
“Mr.…”
“April!” Nan beamed. “For the village calendar.”
Ellery probably looked only more puzzled because Nora told Nan, “He’s using a Norman Rockwell freebie his insurance agent mailed us.”
“Oh no.” Nan looked shocked.
“If he knew better…” Nora prodded.
Nan took the hint. “Right! Well, Ellery, every year the town council commissions a calendar for the next year, featuring our most prominent gentlemen becomingly clad in pirate costume. The proceeds go to the widows-and-orphans fund.”
“Uh-oh, did I just fall down a wormhole?” Ellery asked.
Nan laughed merrily. “Oh, I know what you’re thinking. It’s a little bit sexist and a little bit…um, retro in mindset, but it sells like fire and it’s for a really good cause.”
Were there really that many widows and orphans in Pirate’s Cove? Sure, back in the days of Captain Blood, but now?
“I’m sure it is, it’s just that…”
“It’s an honor, dearie,” Nora assured him.
“Is it?”
“Oh yes. Of course it is.” Nora added shrewdly, “Police Chief Carson takes part every year.”
“Jack? Jack poses for a beefcake calendar?”
“He certainly does. Well, I mean, we don’t think of it as beefcake, but yes.”
Ellery gazed doubtfully at Nan, who coaxed, “It would be so lovely if you would agree to April. You would be perfect.”
“Mr. Carter has been Mr. November for the last five years,” Nora chimed in.