Murder at Pirate's Cove

by Josh Lanyon

  Ellery shoved his key into the stiff lock, turned it, heaved open the heavy door. He really needed to follow up with the security company and get the locks changed here as well. Maybe if he ever had a minute to spare again.

  Anyway, what did it matter what Carson was trying to tell him or not tell him. After Todd, Ellery was a confirmed bachelor. Signed, sealed, and delivered. Delivered from emotional entanglements, that is. The only emotional obligation he could handle right now was a puppy, and he hadn’t even managed to pull that off.

  For a moment he stood in the doorway and peered into the drafty gloom waiting for him.

  Then again, he was kind of tired of solitude. And celibacy.

  He was building a new life for himself, and it wasn’t unreasonable he might eventually want to share that life with someone. It would have to be someone from this world and not the old world, though. None of his friends and family in New York could understand why he’d felt the need to exchange the city that never sleeps for the village with narcolepsy.

  And that was okay. He didn’t need their understanding or approval.

  He was happy with his choices. Or at least, he could envision a time when he might be happy. Presuming people stopped suspecting him of murder, the Crow’s Nest started turning a profit, and he managed to find some light bulbs because holy moly, it was practically pitch-black in here!

  Ellery felt around, found the light switch, but nothing happened.

  Not again.

  If the state of the wiring at Captain’s Seat was anything like the state of the plumbing, the old mansion was probably one flick of a light switch from going up in flames. Speaking of which, he should leave one of the numerous oil lanterns and a box of matches on the table next to the front door for this kind of occasion.

  Another entry for the never-ending Things to Do list that was his inheritance. Ellery suddenly remembered Tommy Rider holding a box of light bulbs, joking with him outside the hardware store. His heart sank. Such a vibrant personality. It was horrible to think she was dead. Worse. Murdered.

  No. Stop. He really didn’t want to let his thoughts go in that direction, or he’d back out of this spooky old mausoleum, jump in the VW, and head back to town to get a hotel room for the night. A man’s home was his castle, and just because his castle was a creepy old wreck and probably haunted…just because he lived in the middle of nowhere, and the power seemed to be off, and Trevor’s murderer had managed to get in here and plant that bloody sword in a hidden closet…that was no reason to start feeling unsafe in his own home.

  At least the mortgage was paid off!

  He listened to the surrounding darkness, trying to ignore the feeling that the darkness was listening right back at him. The tiny hairs on the nape of his neck stood up.

  Ellery wavered, trying to decide what to do.

  This was ridiculous, right?

  It wasn’t the first time the power had gone out. It wouldn’t be the last.

  He was exhausted, drained. That was all. His nerves were in pieces, and no wonder. He needed to get inside and go to bed.

  Tomorrow he would be laughing at himself.

  Hopefully not from heaven.

  He reached back to pull the door shut. His heart plastered itself against his rib cage at a faint scrape of sound across the room.

  “Who’s there?” he demanded.

  There was, of course, no answer. Because mice did not talk.

  Or maybe it was a squirrel. Or a rat. Or a raccoon.

  What it was not was a person in a black ski mask, holding a knife and waiting to attack him.

  This. Was. Nonsense.

  He pulled the door shut, slid the bolt, and started across the hall toward the staircase. He was moving briskly to prove to himself he was not afraid, but it was a mistake because the room was in almost total darkness. The only light came from one of the small porthole-shaped windows high overhead. Moonlight gilded the curved mouths of the gallery of cannons carved into the balustrade above, only to be swallowed by the darkness of the room below. Ellery’s foot landed on something hard and round. He had just enough time for a disoriented flash of dismayed realization—oh no, what’s that wiffle ball doing in the hall?—before he lost his footing.

  He went down hard and hit his head on the edge of the bottom step—he had been much closer to the staircase than he’d realized. For a stunned moment he lay there blinking into the inky blackness that seemed to press in on him.

  And then something stirred, moved above him on the staircase. Everything in Ellery froze. His heart seemed to ice over mid-beat. Someone turned on a flashlight and came quickly down the steps. Ellery instinctively closed his eyes, and the bright-white beam of light played across his face. The footsteps neared him, and he didn’t move, didn’t flinch, didn’t dare to breathe. He felt the breeze of feet moving past his nose.

  Beneath his lashes he saw white rubber soles and the outline of tennis shoes flash past.

  The intruder sprinted for the door, slid the bolt, and shot out into the night.

  * * * * *

  “I don’t understand,” Chief Carson said, and not for the first time. “Why did you go inside the house? If you thought there was an intruder—”

  “I didn’t really think there was an intruder,” Ellery protested. “I thought I was imagining things. I thought my fears were getting the better of me.”

  “That instinct? It’s called self-preservation. You’re supposed to listen to it.”

  Ellery retorted, “It’s also called being chicken.” Unlike Chief Carson, he was not raising his voice. He did not have the energy for yelling. He did not feel very well. Even though he had not been knocked out, he had received a good, hard bang on the head, and he felt a little sick and very tired. Too tired to explain that he had come home late many nights to dead light bulbs and creaky sounds and the fear that he was not alone in the mansion.

  For all he knew, there had been an army of intruders wandering the house since the day he arrived, but this was the first time he’d managed to catch one.

  Although catch was not the right word. Confirmed. That was better.

  “Argh,” said Chief Carson. Okay, that was not even close to what he said. What he really said made the paramedics blink. He finished with, “You’re lucky you’re not dead.”

  “I know.”

  “He’s actually okay,” the paramedic named Miles responded. To Ellery, he said, “You have a gash on your forehead, but it doesn’t need stitches.”

  “Okay.”

  “There won’t be a scar, don’t worry.”

  Oh, right. Because everyone in Pirate’s Cove apparently believed he was an actor and therefore lived in terror of a blemish. Not that he wasn’t glad he wouldn’t be scarred. His machismo only stretched so far.

  Miles was saying, “And there’s a slight possibility of concussion. I’ve cleaned the wound. You should try to stay awake for a few more hours.”

  Ellery moaned.

  “Are you in pain?” Carson asked with a worried look at Miles.

  “Only at the thought of having to stay awake. I’m dead on my feet.”

  Carson said grimly, “You came closer than I want to think about.”

  Miles said, “If you experience any swelling or light-headedness tomorrow, come to the med center and we’ll take a closer look at you.”

  Ellery nodded and winced. He thanked the paramedics, who assured him it was their pleasure. They nodded good night to Carson and tromped out of the kitchen.

  Ellery glanced up at Carson, and the expression in Carson’s eyes made him feel suddenly, unexpectedly self-conscious. He said at random, “What I don’t understand is why he—or she—came back here. Is it because they don’t realize the sword has already been discovered?”

  “I doubt it,” Carson said.

  “Then what?”

  Carson hesitated, and Ellery realized he was trying not to dump more bad news on him in his weakened state.

  He’d called Chief Carson as soon
as he’d locked the door behind the intruder. Carson had shown up with his usual speed and efficiency, paramedics right behind him. He’d been flatteringly concerned when Ellery had staggered out to meet them. That had quickly given way to exasperation, following Ellery’s account of the attack.

  Really, you couldn’t even call it an attack. Ellery had fallen over the puppy’s ball without any help from the intruder. Carson hadn’t believed that until he’d checked the lights in the hall and been forced to admit they had been tampered with.

  “What?” Ellery insisted when Carson didn’t answer his question.

  Carson said quietly, “I think if my officers were to conduct a search of the house, they would find something to incriminate you in Thomasina Rider’s homicide. Probably the murder weapon, since it wasn’t recovered at the scene.”

  A wave of nausea swept over Ellery. He managed to swallow it, but his voice sounded faint to his own ears. “But I have an alibi for Tommy’s murder.”

  “Yes. You do. An unbreakable one.” Carson’s smile was dour. “Our killer doesn’t know that.” He considered. “Maybe they don’t care. Maybe the point is simply to sow confusion. Muddy the investigation as much as possible.”

  “Like the distraction of using an old pirate sword. There wasn’t any real significance to it, but nobody could know that for sure at first.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ellery nodded and kept nodding. He was so tired, he was practically falling asleep at the kitchen table. He drank some tea—he couldn’t remember who made it. Carson? The paramedics? Himself? Anyway, the brew was hot and strong and comforting.

  Carson disappeared for a time and then came back. “Did you happen to leave any windows open? Any doors unlocked?”

  “No way. Not after everything that’s gone on.” Including his own amateurish efforts at breaking into Trevor’s home.

  “I didn’t think so. Well, you can’t stay here tonight.”

  He didn’t want to, to be honest, but Ellery asked anyway. “Why?”

  “There’s no sign of forced entry. I think this settles it. Your intruder has a key.”

  “Great.” After the pirate sword had turned up in the hidden closet, he’d kind of suspected that was the case, but he’d been hoping against hope.

  “Grab what you need for the night. I’ll drive you into the village. You can stay at the Seacrest Inn. It’s run by Nan Sweeny, Nora’s niece. I’ve already phoned ahead.”

  “That’s very efficient.”

  “Yep. That’s why I’m the chief of police.”

  “How am I going to get my car? I’ll need it to drive home tomorrow.”

  “We’ll worry about tomorrow, tomorrow.”

  “Sounds like a song,” Ellery murmured.

  Carson’s mouth twitched in the faintest of smiles. He shook his head. “You’re half asleep right now. Grab your gear, and let’s get going.”

  Ellery quickly packed an overnight bag and climbed into the passenger seat of Carson’s police SUV. The radio crackled with low-volume official conversations. The interior smelled like Carson’s aftershave and linen-scented Febreze air freshener. Ellery had the same vent clip in his car.

  “Buckle up and put your head back,” Carson ordered. Though his tone was brusque, Ellery had learned to recognize the undernote of kindness.

  He obeyed, and when he next opened his eyes, the SUV was idling outside the Seacrest Inn and Nan Sweeny was coming out to meet them.

  Ellery opened the car door, surprised when Carson rested a hand on his shoulder. He shot the chief a quick inquiring look, but it was impossible to read his expression in the gloom of the car’s interior.

  “Don’t worry,” Carson said. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this. Our perp doesn’t know it yet, but going back to Captain’s Seat tonight was a big mistake.”

  Ellery nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I promise you. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Nobody could make that promise with any real certainty, but if Ellery was going to believe anyone, it would be Jack Carson—because Jack Carson believed what he was saying.

  “I know.”

  “Get some rest,” Carson added. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

  Ellery nodded again and got out. The night air was damp and cold, and he could hear the rhythmic rush of the ocean a few yards from the inn, the distant chime of buoy bells.

  “You poor thing,” Nan cried, giving him a quick hug and tugging away his bag. “Here, let me take that. Come inside where it’s warm. We’ll get you all tucked up, safe and sound.” She waved to Carson, who flashed his headlights in response before slowly pulling away from the flagstone walk.

  “Thank you, that’s very kind.”

  Tucked up safe and sound? Did she think he was twelve? But the truth was she was kind of sweet, and he was tired enough not to mind a little fussing over.

  They went inside the inn, which was comfortingly warm and cozy. A fire burned cheerily in the reception area, though there was no sign of any other guests. Comfortable chairs and sofas, piled with pretty pillows, were grouped around small tables decorated with candles and jars full of sand and shells and starfish. Paintings of last century Buck Island covered the pale-blue walls.

  “Gosh, what a terrifying experience for you,” Nan said as Ellery signed in at the front desk.

  “It’s my own fault for not calling the cops the minute I felt something was off.”

  “Now that’s very true. But nothing scares men more than looking like they’re scared.” She winked at him.

  Ellery shook his head, but that was truer than she knew.

  “Anyway, I’m so glad to finally have a chance to meet you and thank you for all you’ve done for Auntie Nora.”

  “Me doing for her?” Now that was funny. “Nora’s a godsend.”

  Nan beamed. “I’m so glad you think so. She loves working at the bookshop. She’s been so excited, she’s practically walking on air.” She sighed. “It’s nice to have a bit of good news after all the awful things going on in this town.”

  “Yeah, it’s a little disconcerting,” Ellery agreed.

  “Murder seems like something that happens to other people. To have it happen in our own hometown is unbelievable.” Nan tutted softly and shook her head.

  “I bet.”

  “Of course, you’re from New York, so it’s probably not quite so shocking.”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” He took the keys Nan handed over.

  “I understand you’re an actor as well as a bookseller. What have I seen you in?”

  Ellery looked down at himself. “Kicks, jeans, jacket, sweater, T-shirt.”

  Nan laughed. “No, really. What movies have you been in?”

  Like the night wasn’t painful enough? The last thing he wanted to do was regurgitate his embarrassing film career, which had started with Happy Halloween! You’re Dead and ended with Happy Halloween! You’re Dead 6.

  “Mostly toothpaste commercials,” he said.

  “You do have a beautiful smile!”

  He offered a feeble version of his beautiful smile.

  “I hope these terrible murders won’t turn you off our little town. It’s actually a wonderful place to live.”

  “And die,” Ellery said. That was definitely the conk on his head talking.

  Nan giggled. “You’re bad. Janet’s the one I feel terrible for.”

  “Janet? Why’s that?”

  Nan’s smile was wistful. “She used to be so much fun. She was always in the thick of everything. From the Scallywags to Girl Scout troop leader. Then Trevor came along. She’s like a different person now. I was hoping once they split up, it would be different, but no. I don’t know how or why, but Trevor could always twist her around his little finger. Why do smart women make such foolish choices when it comes to men?”

  In Ellery’s experience, smart women were not unique in making fools of themselves over men. He said, “But their relationship had been over for a long time, hadn’t it?�
�

  “No. That is, yes, but right on schedule, Trevor started making noise about wanting to get back together. According to Janet, anyway. I tried to tell her not to trust him, but Janet had a blind spot where Trevor was concerned. Now, of course, she’s devastated.”

  “I guess so.”

  Nan seemed to shake off her pensiveness. “However did we get on the topic of Janet?”

  Ellery shook his head.

  “Why don’t you go upstairs, and I’ll bring you a pot of tea? Jack said you shouldn’t go to sleep right away.”

  “Yeah, about the not sleeping right away? I’m going to bed now,” Ellery said firmly.

  “Oh? Are you sure? Because—”

  “I’m sure. Good night. Thank you for the hospitality.”

  “Oh, it’s my pleasure. It’s so nice to have company. It’s like a morgue around here off-season.”

  “It’s the nicest morgue I’ve ever been in,” he assured her.

  Nan giggled again, watching as he slowly climbed the polished wooden stairs to the corner room on the second floor. “Sweet dreams!” she called.

  He was so beat, he could hardly think straight. It took all his concentration to put one foot in front of the other. Still, he felt vaguely sure Nan had said something significant during their conversation. Was it about Janet believing she was going to be getting back together with Trevor? Was it something else?

  Whatever it was, it would have to wait until tomorrow.

  He unlocked the door to his room and was pleasantly surprised to find it was large and lovely, with bow windows offering a view of the star-glittered sky and the lamp of the North Point lighthouse shining like a path across the bay. A green glass bowl of freshly cut lilies and lavender sat on the table near the windows, their cool, sweet perfume drifting across the room.

  As Ellery undressed, he tried to convince himself he had the energy for a shower, but before he stepped out of his Levi’s, he gave up the idea and fell face-first into the nest of pillows and cloudlike comforter.

  Heaven.

  He blinked drowsily into the soft linens. What had Nan said about Janet? About always being in the thick of things? About becoming a different person?