Not likely.
Ellery said lightly, “Besides, who knows how hungover I’ll be after a night of dancing, drinking, and ghost-hunting.”
Jack’s brows drew together. “What? You’re planning to attend the Marauder’s Masquerade? You know it’s invitation only, right?”
“Right.” Ellery grinned, although he was a little taken aback at the severity of Jack’s expression. Did Jack really think he would try to gatecrash the ball? “It looks like I rate.” He fished out the small black envelope and handed it to Jack.
Jack took it without looking away from Ellery’s face. “Do you know the Bloodworths?”
“Nope.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Me neither. But I can’t pass up the social event of the season.” Ellery was still smiling, still joking, but his pleasure was fading a bit at Jack’s clear disapproval. Why should Jack care if Ellery attended the Marauder’s Masquerade?
Even though he’d handed the invitation to Jack, he was irked when Jack opened the envelope to frown over the card inside. Did he think Ellery was mistaken? Lying? Did he think Ellery had forged his invitation?
Without comment, Jack tucked the card in its envelope and handed the invitation back to Ellery.
“Am I free to go, Officer?” Ellery couldn’t help the edge that crept into his voice. He wasn’t imagining it; Jack was definitely not thrilled Ellery had been invited to the Bloodworths’ party.
Jack heard the note of irritation and offered a brief smile. “Yep. Congratulations.” His gaze lifted, eyes scanning the crowd milling behind Ellery. Almost like he was dismissing him? No. That couldn’t be right.
Could it?
It was second nature for Jack to keep an eye on his surroundings at all times. Ellery got that, but this just felt off.
“Is there any reason I shouldn’t go?”
Jack’s bright gaze dropped to meet his own. He shook his head. “No, of course not. If fancy dress balls are your thing, you’ll have a great time.”
“I don’t know if they’re my thing. But the ghost hunt sounds fun, and it’s not like my social calendar is exactly jam-packed these days.”
In fairness, it was more jam-packed than it had been a few months ago. Every Monday he had a date with the Monday Night Scrabblers and, like it or not, he was pretty much a member of the Scallywags, Pirate’s Cove amateur theater guild. Once or twice a month he popped in to see how the Silver Sleuths and other book clubs were faring. He had friends now—including Jack. He was not nearly as lonely as he had been when he’d first moved to the island.
Jack grimaced. “Right. No, you should go. You’ll have a good time. You deserve a night out.”
Well, at least Jack was making an effort, saying the right things.
The Fish and Chippies launched into a lively version of Pete Seeger’s “Hard Times in the Mill.”
Ellery ate in silence, listening to the band while surreptitiously keeping an eye on Jack. Their former easy comradery had evaporated like sea spray on the summer breeze.
When Jack showed no sign of breaking the silence, Ellery said, “I didn’t make the connection until today, but the masquerade is being hosted by your burglary victims?”
“The Bloodworths, yeah.”
“That’s…”
Interesting?
Abruptly, Ellery couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was baffled by Jack’s reaction to his invitation to the Masquerade.
Jack finished his beer, glanced at Ellery’s still full glass, considered, and then seemed to decide against.
The band finished their number, and the accordion player launched into a moody version of “My Jolly Sailor Bold.” Her voice was velvety smooth and sonorous.
“There is nothing can console me, but my jolly sailor bold…”
Certainly poor little Maria Catalina Isabella Bloodworth would have agreed with that.
Ellery concentrated on his food. The clam cakes were tender on the inside, deliciously crispy and brown on the outside. What he liked best about the Salty Dog’s cuisine was that they caught fish fresh from the cove itself. You could spot Tom down at the wharf, collecting his haul every Friday morning.
He took another sip of his martini and searched for some neutral topic. “I hear you’re Mr. July.”
He had to raise his voice to be heard over the crowd and the band. A few of the pub’s patrons glanced their way.
Jack looked startled, then mildly uncomfortable, throwing a quick look at the tables around them. “Oh. Uh, yeah. I mean, it’s for a good cause.”
“Exactly.”
Jack studied him. “Does that mean you’re part of next year’s calendar?”
“Mr. April,” Ellery admitted.
“You’ll be the most popular month of the year,” Jack assured him. The compliment would have been nicer if Jack’s mouth hadn’t had that ironic curve.
“Sure.”
Jack’s expression changed. “Sure you will. You’re gorgeous.”
It was sincere, even slightly impatient, as though he thought Ellery was being falsely modest, and Ellery’s face warmed uncomfortably.
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“I would,” Jack said. He turned his attention back to the stage, leaving Ellery feeling more confused than ever.
It was kind of a relief when they finished their meals and Jack signaled for the bill.
As much as Ellery enjoyed spending time with Jack, the evening had taken an awkward turn, and he wasn’t even sure why.
Jack paid the bill, brushing aside Ellery’s offer to split it. “I invited you, remember?”
Yes, Ellery did remember. He wished he didn’t suspect Jack regretted that invitation.
They edged their way to the door, pausing to say hellos and goodbyes at crowded tables as they went, before pushing out into the muggy July night.
The day had been warm, and the evening was slow to cool. The sea air was rife with the scent of the harbor and fried fish. The pub door swung shut, cutting off a rousing version of “Go Down You Red Roses.”
“That new singer is great,” Ellery was saying. He broke off at the sight of a short, stocky kid stretched out on the long wooden bench next to the doorway. The boy—he was maybe nineteen or twenty—gazed back at Ellery and Jack with bright, challenging eyes. His hair was spiky and dark, and he wore ripped jeans and a black T-shirt that read: Whale oil beef hooked.
Ellery didn’t recognize him, but Jack did. Jack said, “What did you need, Ned?”
“Just waiting for Libby,” Ned said shortly.
“Maybe there’s a better place for that?”
“Is there some law against me waiting here?”
Jack smiled. “Could be. You want me to check?”
Ned’s face tightened. He sat up. “No.”
“I’m thinking if Libby wants to meet up, she’ll let you know.”
Ned pushed up from the bench, threw Jack a look of intense dislike, and strode away down the cobbled sidewalk.
“Who’s that?” Ellery asked as the boy vanished into the shadows.
“Ned Shandy.” Jack sighed. “Not a bad kid, but getting to be a pain in the ass for Tom.”