Ellery said quickly, “I wish. But unfortunately, there was a fire at Captain’s Seat a couple of weeks ago, so a lot of the house is unlivable.”
That was a complete exaggeration. Yes, there had been a fire, and yes, there was a fair bit of damage—mostly smoke damage—on the second floor, but the house had six bedrooms and seven baths. There was still plenty of inhabitable floor space in the old mansion.
“I’m not picky. I can bunk down anywhere.”
“Yeah. No,” Ellery said, and meant it.
“Something can certainly be arranged,” Cyrus said quickly. “Won’t you sit down and join us, Mr. Abbott?”
“There’s plenty of room at the inn,” Nan Sweeny chirped. Nan was Nora’s niece. She owned the Seacrest Inn.
“Thank you for the suggestion,” Brandon told her, taking the seat Cyrus had abandoned for him at the crowded table. That put him right next to Ellery, his knee nudging Ellery’s, his elbow brushing Ellery’s. “That’s always a possibility.” He was giving Ellery a sideways look that managed to mix reproach with mockery. Brandon knew perfectly well Ellery would still have been coming up with excuses even if he’d owned the Seacrest Inn and not the slightly scorched Captain’s Seat.
Felix leaned across the table. “Mr. Abbott, are you going to write your next book about Skull House?”
Was it Ellery’s imagination, or was there something odd in the brief lull that followed the mayor’s son’s question?
“Definitely,” Brandon replied. “I paid top dollar for those legends, and I intend to get my money’s worth.”
Everyone laughed, but again, Ellery thought there was something uneasy in the sound.
“I should be going.” Nora rose, dragging on her black wool coat. The evenings were still quite chilly even in late spring.
“Oh, don’t go,” Brandon objected. “This is turning into a regular little Welcome Home party. How about another round of drinks? Totally on me!”
Libby, who frequently helped out in her father’s pub, jumped up and began to take drink orders. Brandon looked around the pub with his glinting, black gaze as everyone applauded.
Everyone but Nora. She finished buttoning her coat and said in a clear, carrying voice, “However, this is not your home, Mr. Abbott. It never will be. You should think about taking Nan up on her offer.”
“Nora!” Several people at the table made shushing motions.
Nora ignored them. “Skull House is not safe. And I’m not talking about the mold or the rotting floors or the rats.” Her voice wobbled with emotion. “Not the four-footed kind!”
What the heck did that mean?
An uncomfortable pause followed her stark pronouncement.
“Now, now,” Cyrus said quickly. “Mr. Abbott purchased the property. He can do what he likes with it, Nora.”
Sue said, “Don’t be a bad sport, Nora.”
“Am I missing something?” Brandon murmured to Ellery.
Ellery didn’t bother replying. He thought they both might be missing something.
Nora said, “When you get to be my age, you’ll understand there are some things that shouldn’t be tampered with. Things that are best left alone.”
“You’re wonderful. I’m going to put you in a book.” Brandon chuckled, glancing around the table for approval. He didn’t get it; everyone looked more ill at ease.
“Come on now, Nora,” Dylan said kindly. “If the historical society had purchased Skull House, you’d have done plenty of tampering. Let’s be fair about this.”
Nora drew herself up to her full five feet, which, granted, wasn’t terribly impressive. “Skull House is cursed,” she pronounced. “No human can live there and thrive.”
“It sounds perfect,” Brandon retorted. “I prefer ghosts to humans anyway.”
If he thought he was getting the last word, he didn’t know Nora.
“Mark my words.” Nora turned and strode from the pub, leaving a startled silence in her wake.
“Did she just say ‘mark my words’?” Brandon was grinning, and the quick laughter of those still at the table held a note of relief.
Dylan said softly to Ellery, “Sometimes I think Nora really is a witch.”
“I know.” Ellery glanced over at Jack. He was speaking to Libby, and seemed to be declining the offer of a free drink.
“I should be going too,” Ellery said. “Sandy’s daughter must be in bed by now. I don’t want Sandy to get stuck watching Watson.”
“Watson’s fine,” Dylan said. “He’ll be sound asleep.”
That was probably true, but Ellery was more than ready to leave. It was late, and he was a little unsettled by Brandon’s sudden appearance. It wasn’t that he was still attracted to his former boyfriend, but Brandon was like a toothache. Hard to tune out. Ellery kept comparing the old Brandon with this new Brandon, which meant he kept remembering things he didn’t want to think about. He did not want or need the distraction Brandon presented.
Unlike the rest of Pirate’s Cove.
Wryly, he studied Brandon holding court at the table. The way people were acting, you’d have thought Johnny Depp was sitting there. Even Sue was pink-cheeked and eager as she filled him in on whatever it was she was gushing about. Ellery got it. Brandon was shiny and new, something folks in Pirate’s Cove loved because there was so little of it. He couldn’t blame them, but that didn’t stop him from being a little disappointed that a free drink was enough to win everyone over.
“Are you really not going to invite me to stay with you?” Brandon asked suddenly. “Your oldest friend?”
Ellery snapped out of his preoccupation. He was uncomfortably aware that once again everyone at the table—maybe the entire pub—was staring their way.
“I explained why I can’t have guests right now.” He couldn’t help adding, “And you’re not my oldest friend. We haven’t even seen each other in nearly a decade.”
“That was your choice.” Brandon had become a master of smiling blandly as he said embarrassing things. “And after everything I did for your career.”
“My career is bookseller, and I owe it all to my Great-great-great-aunt Eudora.”
“Your real career,” Brandon insisted. “Your acting career.” He turned to the others. “I wrote the part of Noah Street specifically for Ellery.”
Why? Why? Why?
What had he done to deserve this?
“Noah Street…” Dylan mused. “Why is that name familiar?”
“I am a bookseller,” Ellery insisted. “I sell books. All that-that other stuff is way behind me.”
“Behind you or beneath you?” Brandon was still smiling, but Ellery knew those tight lips and narrowed eyes meant he was deeply miffed. “I see how it is. You’re ashamed now. But you weren’t too ashamed to run to the bank with all that money I made you.”
“Were you a porn star?” Dylan was beaming, apparently delighted at the idea.
“Oh. My. GOD.” Sue was bright-eyed and grinning, no doubt visualizing the next day’s headlines.
“No!” Ellery glared at Brandon. “I certainly was not!”