Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

there."
    "How do I know? Maybe I dropped when I was looking at the house."
    "As fastidious as you are! You'd never sit on that dusty sofa. No, Melanie, you've got to do better than that ."
    "Well, then maybe I lost it when I went for tea," she said with a casual shrug. "You're making too much of this, Ashley. Drop it."
    "I don't want to quarrel with you, Melanie. We've been getting along really well lately and I want to keep it that way." Still I had my answer. I'd seen the alarm on her face and that fleeting look of fear. "You've got it back now, that's all that matters, and no one's the wiser."
    " Do y ou mean no one knows?"
    "Tommy knows, naturally, because he found it. But he has no idea it was yours. And well, Jon knows because I told him but we can trust him."
    We left it at that and said goodnight. I couldn't bring myself to tell her Nick might have overheard me telling Jon about it.

    I drove to Orange Street, straight past the darkened Campbell House. Seeing it filled me with pride. My restoration. Mirabelle might own it, Mirabelle might live in it, but deep down, this was my house. I was leaving my mark on it, just as in the future I would leave my signature on many restored houses in the District.
    On the next block, my headlights illuminated Teddy's modest but charming sunny yellow house. The gingerbread trim was painted white and gray. An authentic Victorian, it had a corner porch with a turret room above. Lights blazed from the first floor windows so I assumed Teddy was still up. It was not yet eleven. The doorbell was old-fashioned, the kind you had to twist; it buzzed loudly.
    Teddy opened the door, a wallpaper scraper in one hand. He smiled broadly when he saw me. "Ashley, you came. Come on in and I'll show you what I'm doing. You'll be interested in this."
    "Sorry, it's so late."
    "It's not late. I'll be up for hours more."
    I followed him into the dining room where he was scraping off layers of dull, faded wallpaper.
    "Mother never had time to decorate our house, she was always so busy decorating her clients' houses."
    "You know, Teddy, I tried calling your mother when I was at home over school breaks. I wanted to find out where you were, but I could never reach her."
    "She worked hard. She was always busy." He brushed off his hands. "How about a glass of wine? Mother left a good supply."
    "Thanks, but no. It's late and I've got to drive home. But you go ahead and have one if you want." I followed him back to the kitchen.
    "Not without you. Anyway, I'm going to work on that wallpaper for another hour. Mother was so clever about money. There wasn't even a mortgage to pay off when she died."
    I touched Teddy's shoulder. "I know you were proud of her."
    Teddy lifted his chin. "I was. She was my best friend."
    "What happened at the production studio after we left?" I asked, making conversation because I didn't want to spring the bad news on him.
    "Didn't you hear, Ashley? Bob King and his crew made good on their threat to strike. Her show is off the air."
    "You mean, they really did it? Picket lines and all."
    Teddy's eyes blazed with excitement. "Yep. No one will go near Mirabelle's set. Everything's shut down."
    "But that means you're out of a job, Teddy. I'm so sorry."
    "I'll find something else. It didn't turn out to be what I expected anyway."
    "He really stood up to her," I said, impressed with Bob King. "He really did it."
    Teddy's expression was grim. "He hates her, Ashley. I heard him say he'd like to kill her."
    "He'll have to get in line," I joked, and we both laughed. "I could use a cup of tea."
    "Sure. I'll boil some water."
    I sat at the kitchen table and watched Teddy fill a tea kettle. "I like what you're doing here," I said, taking in the kitchen. New, yellow floral wallpaper covered the walls. The trim was painted cream, and there were folded shutters at the windows.
    Teddy was taking china cups and saucers from one of the glass-front cabinets. "Mother collected these."
    "You have a green thumb," I said, admiring pots of herbs on window sills and a ruffly fern hanging over the sink. "I was so sorry to hear she'd passed. I hope she didn't suffer."
    Teddy set the table with a blue and white Spode teapot and matching tea cups. "A massive heart attack," he said. "She died very quickly. The doctor said she wouldn't have known what was happening."
    "That's a blessing." I waited until he'd sipped some tea, hoping it would fortify him. "I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Teddy. It'll be on