“How did you meet him?” Libby asked.
Ellery sighed. “We were at Tisch together.”
“Tisch?”
“The New York University Tisch School of the Arts. We were roommates.”
“Okay, people!” Dylan clapped his hands. “Enough lollygagging. We’ve got four rehearsals left, and we need every minute.”
He ushered his cast out of the costume room, throwing Ellery an apologetic look.
“And at your age!” Ellery said—only half joking—and Dylan—only half joking—glowered.
As the last cast member filed out, Nora cleared her throat. “I may owe one or two deposits to the, er, gossip jar.”
Ellery snorted. “Ya think?”
“But no one said anything bad about you. Not even Sue Lewis. Well, not really. We all know what Sue’s problem is. It’s just…you’re different. You’re interesting. And Brandon Abbott is famous.”
Ellery shook his head and exited stage left. He made his way through the backstage rabbit warren of dressing rooms and narrow hallways—passing gallery after gallery of framed photos of cast and productions through the decades—to the stairs and then to the front of the house. He found a seat a few rows back from the stage and settled down for the dubious honor of watching his words be brought to life.
Did the rehearsal go well?
Ellery had no idea. He found it difficult to concentrate, which was hopefully nothing to do with the play and everything to do with the roiling unease he’d felt since learning Brandon might eventually move to Pirate’s Cove.
On the one hand, he really didn’t believe Brandon’s decision to move to Pirate’s Cove could have anything to do with him. They had literally not spoken in years. On the other hand, it was a weird coincidence, made weirder by the fact that Brandon was not and had never been a small-town boy—and towns just didn’t get any smaller than Pirate’s Cove.
But maybe Brandon had changed.
They’d both had time to grow up. To realize there were more important things than career—and more important careers than acting. Brandon was a famous writer now. He was rich and well known. True, one of the things he was known for was being as peculiar as his books, but that was part shtick. Not that Brandon hadn’t always been a little odd. A little unpredictable. A little…alarming.
The good news was Skull House was in a terrible state of disrepair, so it would be months, maybe even a year or more, before Brandon would be able to move in. Given his attention span, there was a fair chance he’d never come to Buck Island at all.
“Are you heading over to the Salty Dog?” Dylan called from the stage as the rehearsal broke up. “Can you grab us a table?”
“Yes. I’ll see you there,” Ellery called back, shrugging into his jacket.
Sue was standing next to Libby at the side exit. Her eyes, meeting Ellery’s, seemed bright with glee, and he felt a prickle of apprehension. Sue was the editor-in-chief (not to mention owner) of Pirate’s Cove’s only newspaper, the Scuttlebutt Weekly. When Ellery had been the number-one suspect in the Maples murder, Sue had lambasted him in a series of editorials. In fact, she had all but called for a lynching.
True, the paper had issued a lukewarm apology once the true culprit had been identified, but Ellery was pretty sure Sue still saw him as a menace to society.
“I might organize an exclusive with him,” Sue was saying to Libby. “Especially if he’s writing a novel set right here in Pirate’s Cove. You wouldn’t mind, would you, Ellery?”
Ellery played dumb. “Wouldn’t mind what?”
“Me scoring an interview with Brandon Abbott.” Sue’s gaze was challenging. She was just a little older than him. A petite and pretty pit bull of a woman. Her blonde hair was long and straight, her brown eyes wide and misleadingly soft, her makeup heavily influenced by J.Lo.
Ellery shrugged. “What’s it to me? I haven’t seen him in seven years.”
“But you did use to be, um, partners, right?”
Ellery grinned. “Are you trying to interview me again, Sue?”
Libby laughed, and Sue’s smile grew tight. “Just a courtesy check. The media has painted your boyfriend as a colorful character. I think it would be fun to interview him, seeing that we’ve finally got someone famous living in PICO.”
That was probably supposed to be a dig at Ellery and his failed acting career. He didn’t care what Sue thought, but it seemed others did. Nearly everyone on the island subscribed to the Scuttlebutt Weekly.
“I’m sure your subscribers would love it.”
Sue’s eyes narrowed; no doubt, she was suspecting Ellery of sarcasm. “You’re not worried about what your ex might say about you?”
“Ter-ri-fied,” Ellery drawled. He winked at Libby and pushed out through the exit door, stepping into the cool, damp night. He let the heavy door swing shut behind him.
* * * * *
The first person Ellery spotted when he walked into the Salty Dog was Jack.
Partly that was because Jack was in his usual place—on the opposite side of the room from Ellery’s usual place. Partly that was because he was sort of looking for Jack, even though he told himself not to look for Jack.
As always, the pub was doing a brisk trade, and Ellery worked his way through the crowd to the bar, requesting a table for the Scallywags. The nice thing about life in a small town was that instead of pub owner Tom Tulley falling over laughing, he tossed a towel over his arm and went to commandeer a long table in the center of the room for his regulars.
Ellery considered and then walked over to Jack’s table. Jack, reading through a stack of papers, didn’t glance up until Ellery said, “Hey, stranger.”
Jack’s head jerked up, and his serious expression relaxed into a smile. “Hey. Long time no see.” As Ellery hesitated, he added, “Pull up a chair.”
Ellery did so, admitting, “I didn’t want to interrupt, if you’re working.”
Jack was pretty much always working.
Jack offered one of those crinkly, unexpectedly engaging grins. “Just going over some case notes. You can interrupt me anytime.”
Well, no. And Jack had no qualms speaking up when it was not a good time. Really, that was part of what Ellery liked about him. He was direct and straightforward. It was refreshing after Todd. Actually, it was refreshing after Brandon too. Come to think of it, there had been a real lack of direct and straightforward romantic interests in Ellery’s life.
Not that—despite a bit of flirtation—Jack was exactly a romantic interest. It was kind of hard to define their relationship. Friends with possibilities?
“Did rehearsal just wind up?” Jack asked.
Ellery nodded. He smiled thanks as Reg, the bartender, brought him his usual Upside-Down Pirate martini. As he sipped the zingy blue cocktail, he considered whether this was a good time to mention Brandon. It felt weird not to mention something that was so much on his mind, but at the same time, was it liable to seem like he thought his former relationship would have some special importance for Jack? It’s not like they were dating.
Jack asked, “Are you enjoying seeing your play being acted out on the stage?”
“Well… I mean, yes. It’s flattering Dylan thought it was good enough to produce. But also, it’s kind of cringy.”