Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

would have."
    " But someone paid the taxes for several years. So if it wasn’t the Campbells paying the taxes, then who was it? "
    Jon wagged his eyebrows and did a perfect Humphrey Bogart impersonation. " Why, t he murderer, sweetheart."

    When I let myself into my bungalow, the telephone was ringing. Detective Yost said irritably, "I've been calling your house for hours, Ms. Wilkes. Are you all right?"
    "Yes, I'm fine." I took offense at his tone. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    "Do I have to remind you that you discovered two murder victims this morning? There's a murderer on the loose."
    "No, you don’t have to remind me. That’s not something I’d ever forget. "
    "Good. OK then , you called me. What can I do for you?"
    Yost sounded grumpy and tired. This wasn't going as I had planned. Still, I pressed on. "It's more a matter of what I can do for you, Detective . I might be able to help you with the investigation." I held my breath.
    "Oh? Are you holding back information? Because if you are . . . "
    " No, no. That’s not it. I thought I could keep my ears open, maybe pick up a clue."
    Yost barked out a derisive laugh. "Sorry , I d o n't mean to be rude. It's just that it’s been a rough day . N o reason for me to take out my frustration on you."
    "No, it isn't," I said firmly. " OK , then you tell me something . H ow were those people killed?"
    The detective took his time answering. "I guess it can't hurt to tell you, it'll be public knowledge soon. Two .38 caliber slugs were found with the bones. So, it looks like they were shot."
    "I don't understand. Did the murderer hide the slugs with the bodies? Why not just put them in his pocket to throw away later?"
    Yost cleared his throat. "For the slugs to be found with the bones indicates they were lodged inside the bodies at the time of death."
    "Oh , s ure," I mumbled , feeling like an idiot. W hat do I know about slugs? "How do you go about identifying old skeletons?"
    "We'll x-ray the bones and teeth . Start with the Campbells' dentists and doctors. Compare our X rays with theirs."
    " Detective , when can we get back into the house? I’m working on a tight deadline . "
    "Forensics hasn't finished processing the crime scene yet, but I'll ask them to expedite things, Ms. Wilkes. I'll call you. Soon."
    "But with crimes so old, what can they hope to find? Won't the evidence be destroyed by now?"
    "Not blood, Ms. Wilkes. Blood traces last forever."
    "Oooh. I'd still like to help, Detective . Please call me if I can."
    "I may do just that," he said smoothly. "Thanks, Ms. Wilkes, I appreciate the offer."
    As I got ready for bed and reviewed our conversation, I was sure Detective Nicholas Yost had softened.

6

    Early the next morning, I drove to the heart of the historic district. Surveying Orange Street in both directions, I verified no one from law enforcement was at the house, not the Crime Scene Unit or a patrol car. I strolled casually across the sidewalk, opened the gate, and ducked under yellow crime scene tape. If I ran into a police officer, I planned to tell him I'd spoken to Detective Yost on the phone last night about assisting with the case, which was true. Of course, if I ran into Detective Yost, my posterior was grass, as they say.
    Enormous magnolia trees blocked the house from the street. They blocked out the sun too, and the garden lay in deep shade. I stepped onto the portico. Here it was shadowy with scarcely a breath of air. Yellow crime scene tape formed a huge X on the oversized front door.
    The keys to this door were missing. Melanie had hired a locksmith to let her inside the first time she looked at the house. The shutters had been closed and secured from the inside , then the windows lowered and locked . And the basement windows had been covered and secured with plywood.
    On a key rack in the butler's pantry, we'd found keys to the back door, a side door, inside doors and cupboards, all neatly labeled . The original locks were huge and ornate, the escutcheons made from solid brass. They were rare, definitely keepers. The key to the front door was never found. Eventually, we'd have a new key made but with a lock so old, that would take time. A temporary lock had been installed. I fingered the smooth warm key in my pocket that fit the new lock.
    Clouds rolled in and a cool wind swirled fallen magnolia leaves . Somewhere nearby rain was falling. Darkness settled in under the trees. I walked around the house in the gloom, the dense quiet broken