Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

told me over th e phone. "Could you meet me at t he Bridge Tender Restaurant at six? We can talk over dinner." He was all business.
    "Do I have a choice?" I asked, resenting the way he thought he could boss me around. Had I been crazy to think I was attracted to him?
    "Of course, you have a choice, Ms. Wilkes, but our meeting is important to the outcome of th is homicide . Further, it would be wise if you did not tell anyone you ’re meeting me."
    "I'm not at all tempted," I said through clenched teeth.
    As I drove east on Oleander Drive, I reflected that t he Bridge Tender Restaurant on the Intracoastal Waterway was a good choice for a clandestine meeting. M any of the clientele were tourists or wealthy yachtsmen who docked at the marina. Plus the cuisine was superb, and because of the brawl in Mirabelle's office and then my rush to get work rolling, I had skipped lunch.
    "I appreciate your coming on such short notice, Ms. Wilkes," Detective Yost said, standing and pulling a chair out for me at a table in the corner overlooking the marina.
    Well, this is more like it, I thought. He sounds almost human. And he has good manners. As my eyes rested on his face, I felt my resentment melt away. The day's cares vanished as well . I couldn't help it, I liked the way he looked. He seemed earnest, warm and considerate. Despite his take-charge attitude , which I ha ve to admit i s a quality I like in a man and certainly was necessary for someone in law enforcement , he was pleasant and seemed trustworthy, someone I'd like to know better. And there was that unmistakable chemistry between us. S ur ely he felt it too.
    "Call me Ashley," I said and extended my hand.
    "And I'm Nick, Ashley." His handshake was warm and dry, and he held onto my hand a tad longer than necessary.
    "Nick," I said, liking the sound of his name.
    The waiter arrived with a flourish of linen napkins and water glasses, and recited the house specials. I ordered Maryland Crab Cakes. " And a glass of your house Merlot.”
    Ni ck ordered Herb Crusted Grouper and seltzer water with lime.
    "You wanted to talk to me about the case," I prompted.
    "Let's wait until the food comes so we won't be interrupted. How's the restoration progressing ? You look tired."
    "Thanks a lot. My day was miserable, if you must know."
    "I'm sorry. You look good. Just tired. Anything you want to talk about?"
    "No. And I'm the one who's sorry. I shouldn't be complaining to you."
    "Why not? I'm a good listener. Who's responsible for making you r life miserable?" The way he s poke made me think he'd send out a squad of officers to pistol whip the offender.
    I saw him differently then, as a person, an equal, not a detective who was complicating my life. His intriguing hazel eyes focused on me alone. They did not flit about the room in search of other women, loathsome treatment I'd endured from countless, thoughtless dates. Nick had a way of making me feel like I was the only woman in the room. I decided to take a chance and confide in him.
    "My sister and I spent most of the afternoon looking at memory care facilities. We have to institutionalize our mother because of her dementia. Her doctor has been recommending this confinement for some time, but I've been stalling. I see now that it's the right thing to do. Still, it's hard."
    "I'm sorry, Ashley. I had to make the same decision about my dad last year, so I know what you're going through. I thought I could avoid committing him, that I'd be able to look after him myself, but then it got to the point where I had to admit his illness was more than I could handle. Keeping him with me wasn't fair to him. Still, I felt like a failure."
    And you don't handle failure well, do you? I thought. Well, neither do I. T hat makes two of us. "I know what you mean."
    Nick continued, "Dad and I lived together in an old house in Carolina Heights so that made the separation even harder to handle. Now it's just me rattling around in that big house. I miss him -- the man he used to be." The light in his eyes dimmed. "But my work keeps me busy so I'm not at home much."
    "I appreciate your telling me. Was your dad a cop too?"
    "No, an ER doc at the medical center before he got ill."
    "Oh." Now I realized why his name was familiar. I had a feeling Detective Yost knew far more about me than I did about him. For starters, he probably knew all the details of my father's death, and that Daddy had been drinking.
    I thought about Nick sharing a house with his father.