“Yes…” Ellery was distracted by Watson trying to wriggle out of his harness, a new and unwelcome trick he’d picked up on their last walk. “Stop it,” he whispered.
Watson gave him a you-talkin’-to-me? look.
“What?” Jack asked.
“Just clearing my throat.”
“Did you have a good time? Are you still hanging onto your winning streak?”
“Yeah. That is, no. I—” Wait. Wait. Wait. Was Jack chitchatting with him? At midnight? Because that was not part of their dynamic. Their friendship was not the call-you-up-just-to-talk variety. Let alone call-you-up-just-to-talk-at-midnight. Typically, their phone conversations revolved around topics like finishing nails, wood sanders, and stay-out-of-my-crime-scene.
“Are you home now?”
What if I’m not? What if I said I was parked down the street? Would you ask me to come over?
Ellery thrust that thought from his mind. Just because Jack was in a chatty mood, just because his voice was slightly drowsy and warm and sort of…affectionate, just because Jack was kind-of-sort-of sounding like a boyfriend, was no reason to jump overboard. Jack had been as clear as a guy could be that he did not want a relationship.
No way was Ellery making that mistake again.
“Not exactly,” Ellery said.
Maybe Ellery’s tone sounded funny because Jack’s tone also sounded funny—and interested—as he said, “No? Where are you? Are you still in Pirate’s Cove?”
“Sort of.” Ellery admitted, “I’m at the cemetery.”
“You’re…”
“Want to go ghost-hunting?”
“Tell me you’re kidding.” Jack did not sound at all soft and sleepy and affectionate now. He sounded wide awake and alarmed.
“I’m kidding about you wanting to go ghost-hunting, yes. But I have a theory.”
“So do I,” Jack said grimly.
“Did you know that Tom Blood was the one with the idea to build the tunnels beneath Pirate’s Cove?”
“What in hell—”
Ellery hurried on. “It occurred to me that there must be an underground passage from the Bloodworth house to the mausoleum.”
“It occurred to me too,” Jack said. “So I asked Marguerite. There was a tunnel at one time, but it collapsed.”
Ellery absorbed that.
“Maybe she’s lying.”
“That also occurred to me. She’s not lying. She showed me the collapsed tunnel. There isn’t any way through. I saw for myself.”
If Ellery were honest, he’d have to admit he was a little disappointed Jack had already thought of the underground-tunnel idea—not to mention, dispensed with it. Granted, it wasn’t an original idea, not on Buck Island.
Ellery quoted, “‘When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’”
“Thank you, Mr. Holmes. I used to read detective fiction too, remember?” Jack sounded less exasperated and more resigned. “How much did you have to drink tonight?”
“Two drinks. I left early so I could check out my theory.”
“I bet. Well, your theory is a bust. Why don’t you come over, and I’ll make you a cup of coffee for the drive home?”
The drive home was twenty minutes, give or take, but it was an offer Ellery couldn’t refuse—sadly, because he didn’t want to.
He sighed. “Okay. I’ll be there in ten—oh hell.” Ellery yelled, “WATSON!” as Watson, after some consideration, had given a full-body shrug and slipped right out of his harness.
Finding himself unexpectedly free, Watson took off like a shot, a black shadow racing toward the trees blocking the view of the cliffs and the ocean below.
“I’ve got to go,” Ellery said. “Watson’s loose.” He clicked off, pushed his phone into his pocket, put his fingers to his lips, and whistled.
Watson looked over his shoulder, muzzle open in what sure as heck looked like a huge grin, slowed to a lope, doubled back…and proceeded to run rings around Ellery.
Literally rings. The puppy ran in large circles, zigzagging through tombstones and urns, speeding by just out of arm’s reach at regular intervals.
“What the heck’s gotten into you?” Ellery demanded as Watson zipped past him yet again.
Watson laughed soundlessly, disappearing around another pedestal.
“Okay, that’s it,” Ellery called after three more minutes of failed grabs at the puppy drive-by. “I’m leaving. You can grab a cab.”
He started back toward the entrance, watching to see if Watson followed. In the past, this trick always worked.
Tonight? Not so much.
Instead, Watson took off in the opposite direction, galloping up the hill, barking at whatever psychotic visions were dancing in his head.
Arf! Arf! Arf!
Ellery groaned. “Really?”
Arf! Arf! Arf!
Yes. Really.
Chapter Seventeen
Unhappily, apologetically, Ellery picked his way through the graves and tombs, trying to find the actual path.
Arf. Arf. Arf.
Let’s hope he doesn’t wake the neighbors.
It felt like forever, but it could only have been another minute or two before Ellery located the stone path leading up to the Bloodworth mausoleum.
Watson’s bark echoed in the distance.
God, don’t let him fall off the cliffs.
That horrific image electrified Ellery, and he sprinted up the hill, reaching the top, out of breath, heart pounding.
The marble mausoleum gleamed in the moonlight, the narrow faces of the half-hidden angels watching slyly from their niches.
He whistled again and then jumped as Watson suddenly burst out of the mountain of wild roses behind the back of the building, greeting Ellery like a long-lost comrade.
Ellery’s heart melted, though he knew this was supposed to be a teaching moment. For which of them, he wasn’t sure.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s obedience school for you, buddy. Or maybe the bomb squad.” Weak with relief—and doing an obstacle course in less than a minute, Ellery snapped Watson’s leash on his collar, trying to avoid, unsuccessfully, Watson’s enthusiastic, wet kisses.
For a moment, he studied the mausoleum.
There was no police tape across the entrance. Did that mean the crime scene had already been cleared?
“If you twist the head of the mermaid on the ship’s figurehead, it releases the spring…”
It couldn’t hurt to try? Since he was already here? Just to check for himself.
Not that he didn’t believe Jack about the tunnel being sealed off. He did. Marguerite, on the other hand…
Ellery approached the marble door, studying the carvings of ocean waves and sea serpents.
Which way had Julian twisted the mermaid’s head?
Ellery twisted clockwise.
Nothing.
He twisted counterclockwise.
The door seemed to shudder, and then the slab of stone rolled back with a hair-raising scrape of stone on stone, a sound familiar to anyone who’d ever watched a mummy movie.
Yes.
It really was that simple.
Ellery gave a disbelieving laugh. He glanced down at Watson.
Watson wagged his tail, looking up at him.