“The conversation with Dylan was earlier in the day. At the Crow’s Nest. I don’t remember much after that. I don’t remember game night.”
“You don’t? Do you remember talking with me on the phone?”
“No.” Ellery studied Jack’s face. “Did I call you? Or did you call me?”
“You phoned me. You were at the cemetery, and you asked if I wanted to go ghost-hunting.”
“What? I must have already been hit over the head.”
Jack laughed. “I doubt it.”
“Ghost-hunting. That makes zero sense.”
“I’m pretty sure you were kidding about hunting for ghosts. I think you went there looking for a secret passage into the Bloodworth mausoleum.”
Ellery sat up. “Yes. That’s it. That’s right. I thought there must be a tunnel from the house to the mausoleum because the mausoleum wasn’t used as a mausoleum until the early 1900s.”
Jack pushed the button on the arm of the hospital bed. The top half of the bed rose, propping Ellery up. “And you were right about that. Except during Prohibition, a cave-in closed off the tunnel. So that’s not how Brett or his killer got down to the mausoleum.”
“Oh.” Ellery slumped back in disappointment.
Jack studied him, said, “It was a good guess.”
Ellery made a face. “If you’re worried about my feelings, I must be dying.”
Jack grinned, shook his head. “I care about your feelings. I just care more about your skull. You’ve been knocked senseless twice in the little time I’ve known you.”
“No way. The first time I was just stunned. And I did that to myself.”
“I’ve been a police officer for ten years, and I’ve never been knocked unconscious.”
“U R Doin it Wrong,” Ellery said, and Jack snorted.
It was good to see Jack looking more relaxed, smiling at him. Good to hear the warmth in his voice again, the hint of teasing. It would have been nice if Jack had come ghost-hunting—not least because Ellery wouldn’t have been hit over the head.
Jack’s gaze grew quizzical. “Are you falling asleep?”
“No. No.” Ellery smothered a yawn. “I don’t know why I’m so tired.”
“It’s called concussion.”
“Oh yeah.” He smiled at Jack, and Jack smiled back with the funniest, sweetest expression. A look Ellery had never seen on Jack’s face.
Maybe he was already asleep and dreaming? Because this was—
Ellery’s eyes flew open. He started to sit up again, but this time Jack planted a hand on his shoulder, holding him in place.
Jack said, “Ellery, will you please relax?”
“I just thought of something. Whoever attacked me had to be the murderer.”
“Not necessarily.”
“And it wasn’t Julian. Julian has an alibi.” The relief was enormous. Not just because he liked Julian. He was relieved to be off the hook of proving Julian innocent. The weight of that responsibility had been smothering.
Jack looked so carefully and completely blank, Ellery felt a flash of alarm. “What?”
Jack hesitated, which was not like Jack.
“No?”
Jack said reluctantly, “Julian doesn’t have an alibi. Marguerite pulled some strings at the State House, and he was released on bond yesterday evening.”
Ellery opened his mouth, but he had no idea what to say. It was like getting hit over the head again.
The beige curtain divider slid open with a scrape of rings on metal.
“How’s my favorite patient?” Dr. Mane asked.
Ellery smiled—it was kind of impossible not to smile at Dr. Mane.
“Great,” Ellery lied. “I was hoping maybe I could go home this evening.”
“Mm.” Dr. Mane was regretful. “Tomorrow at the earliest. That was a pretty good conk on the head. We need to monitor you for at least another night.”
“Yeah, but—”
“I know. Believe me. But better safe than sorry.” Dr. Mane seemed to belatedly notice Jack. “Chief Carson. Nice to see you again.”
“Dr. Mane.” Jack rose.
Dr. Mane looked apologetic. “Sorry to interrupt. This won’t take long.”
“That’s okay.” Jack was already moving around the bed and heading toward the door. “I should be going.”
Ellery swallowed his disappointment. “Tell Watson I said hi.”
Without glancing round, Jack put a hand up in farewell and kept walking.
Chapter Eighteen
Ellery had been hoping—expecting—to hear from Julian, but it was Nora who phoned that evening.
“Now, dearie, you don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve spoken to Libby and Felix, and they’re both willing to work at the Crow’s Nest until you’re back on your feet.”
“What? No!” Ellery said. “We can’t afford another employee. Let alone two. Anyway, I’m on my feet now.” At least, he had been for as long as it took to get to the restroom and back. He was currently in bed, and grateful to be there.
Still.
“No. No. No.”
Maybe there was an issue with the normally reliable island communication system, because Nora did not appear to hear him.
“It’s not really two employees. Libby will take the morning shift, and Felix will take the afternoon shift. There will be two little hours where their shifts overlap, so that I can have my lunch.”
Nora did not take a two-hour lunch, but Ellery did not miss the point that it was not fair to expect her to run the bookshop by herself.
“Nora, there’s no need. I’m getting out tomorrow. If you’re not comfortable on your own, let’s close the shop for the day, and I’ll be back on Thursday.”
Nora said seriously, “You won’t, you know. Concussions are tricky things. You have to give yourself time to recover. I know what I’m talking about. I fell off Mohegan Rock when I was twenty. I was in bed for a month.”
“You…”
“You’re going to be out of commission for at least a week, dearie. Mark my words. We have to have some help, and this is the perfect solution.”
“Is it? I thought Libby and Felix broke up.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Ellery felt confused. Were they? He couldn’t remember where he’d heard that.
Nora made a dismissive noise. “They just need a little time and privacy to work things out.”
“A little time and privacy working at the Crow’s Nest? Oh no. Please tell me you’re not trying to play matchmaker.”
“What nonsense is this?” Nora sounded ever so slightly piqued. “They’re babies. I wouldn’t think of trying to matchmake. Peace-make, yes. They certainly can’t be mortal enemies and perform together in the Scallywags.”
Was it concussion making him feel like his head was spinning? Or just an overdose of Nora?
“Right. Okay.”
“The funeral is Friday.”
“Whose funeral?” Ellery asked blankly.
“Brett Ainsley’s funeral.” Nora sounded concerned. “You do remember that Julian Bloodworth was arrested for Brett Ainsley’s murder?”