Right. Come to think of it, Jack had mentioned that. Dylan made it sound like Ned was forty and married, but Ellery got it. Libby was the darling of the Scallywags, the Monday Night Scrabblers, and the Salty Dog’s regulars—which was half the island. Ned was…not.
Ellery said, “I understand where Tom is coming from, but turning this into Romeo and Juliet will definitely not help.” Tom struck him as an overprotective dad, but maybe that was the correct response. He had no clue.
“I know that, and you know that, but she’s Tom’s world. And this kid has had some run-ins with the law.”
“Serious run-ins, or joyriding in a golf cart?”
“Who knows?”
What had Jack said about that? A lot had happened since that night. Ellery had the impression Jack thought the kid was mostly harmless. Although he’d mentioned Ned was on his list of potential burglary suspects. That seemed unlikely to Ellery after his encounter at the Barbys’.
That job had not been pulled off by a couple of bored teenagers trying their hand at recreational B&E. These thieves had taken their time, they had made trips back and forth, they had known what they were looking for and where to find it. They had known the owners were away and that there was no security system. That operation had been well-planned and organized right down to the perps never speaking and wearing dark clothes and ski masks. Ellery was no expert, but the efficient way the thieves had dealt with his unwelcome presence seemed to rule out your typical kids behaving badly.
Granted, Ned was not a teenager, even if he looked like one.
Dylan finished with the ice shaker and poured the strained indigo liquid into a martini glass. He handed the glass to Ellery. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” Ellery sipped his drink. Sweet and zingy. Nothing not to love about flavored vodka and citrus liqueur.
Dylan led the way back to the living room, where they found the emergency meeting had ended and a game board was being set up.
“What exactly did you say to Sue Lewis?” Janet asked Ellery. “Reading this morning’s paper, I’d never have known you were ever at the Marauder’s Masquerade. In fact, I’d never have known you were a resident of Pirate’s Cove.”
“Good,” Ellery replied, and the others laughed.
“Sue said she’s done with giving him free publicity,” said Sandy, and there was more laughter.
“That kind of publicity I can do without.”
“It’s sad about Julian, though,” Greta said. She owned the gourmet grocery store on Mizzen Street and was the one member of the Monday Night Scrabblers Ellery still felt he really didn’t know at all.
“I always thought there was something off about that lad,” Tom muttered.
“You wouldn’t want Libby marrying into the Bloodworth money?” Janet teased.
“I would not.” Tom glanced at Ellery, said dryly, “Anyway, I think his tastes run in another direction.”
“But speaking hypothetically?” Janet asked.
“There’s nothing hypothetical about murder.”
It was a little disheartening to see how overwhelmingly public opinion was against Julian. Ellery said, “Then you all believe Julian’s guilty?”
“Police Chief Carson arrested him.” Sandy sounded apologetic, no doubt remembering that Ellery had been Julian’s date that fateful night.
“What a load of nonsense!” Mr. Starling exclaimed—and for the record, he did actually say nonsense. “That boy no more killed Brett Ainsley than I did.”
“I knew it!” Janet’s eyes gleamed. “You think Marguerite did it. I do too!”
“You know, I had the same idea,” Greta said.
Dylan, who had gone into the dining room to set up the table for the Scrabble players, poked his head in. “Janet, Ellery, Stan, we’re good to go in here. Anyone need another drink before I sit down?”
Mr. Starling ignored Dylan’s call to action. He glared at Janet and Greta. “No, that is not what I mean. Marguerite Bloodworth would hardly stand by and see her son jailed for murder. It’s perfectly obvious who the real culprit is!”
“Who?” they all chorused.
Mr. Starling spluttered, “W-w-who? That so-called financial adviser. Locke Lombard, of course!”
Chapter Sixteen
UNDERPASS.
Twelve points according to Collins Scrabble Words. Not that it mattered. The Monday Night Scrabblers had given Collins the heave-ho back in 2015, after the heinous discovery that OK was not considered a valid word. OK had been validated in 2019, but the MNS were slow to forgive.
Take for example Mr. Starling who, twenty minutes after his startling accusation against Locke Lombard, was still trying to make his case.
“He’s been in love with Marguerite forever,” he was saying. “You’ll notice he’s never married.”
“Dylan isn’t married,” Janet pointed out. “Ellery isn’t married. There are reasons for not marrying that don’t have to do with lost love.” She was the only one really engaging at this point. Ellery had lost interest once he’d understood that Mr. Starling had received some bad investment advice from Locke twenty years ago, and he’d never quite trusted him since.
Underpass…
“That’s different,” Mr. Starling said. “Dylan is a consigned bachelor, and Ellery is a kid.” He’d had a couple of drinks by then. They all had. (That was kind of the point of adult game night.)
“Confirmed bachelor,” Dylan corrected absently. He was checking cellphone messages.
“Kid!” Ellery repeated.
“You’re all kids to me,” Mr. Starling grumbled. “Look at the facts.”
“So far you haven’t presented any,” Janet replied.
“Lombard’s in love with Marguerite. Ainsley stands in his way. All right. It would be one thing if Ainsley were the right sort of person, but he’s not. He’s a…a…rotter, as we used to say in my day.”
Dylan looked up at that. “Stan, you’re seventy-four. No one was saying rotter back in 1947. Not in this country. You need to lay off the Agatha Christie.”
Mr. Starling ignored him. “Ainsley humiliates Marguerite at every turn. He’s rude, crude, and lewd. He sleeps with her friends. He borrows money from their neighbors. He’s cruel to her only child.”
“Is that true?” Ellery broke in.
“Well… He’s not nice to him, let’s put it that way. He’s not the father figure Marguerite was hoping for.”
“I doubt Marguerite was looking for a father figure.” Janet grinned at Ellery, which was a first. Maybe Janet was finally starting to warm up to him?
“You know what I mean. He’s no good.” Mr. Starling glowered at Dylan, who was back to checking his phone. “We say that in this country.”
“Yes, we do.”
Mr. Starling turned to Ellery. “And he disappeared during the crucial minutes, didn’t he?”
Ellery had to think back to when Brett had been rushed outside after the confrontation with Kezzie. Julian had gone outside, for sure. And… Yes, Locke had also gone out. But so had a bunch of others.