Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

chuckled. "I've already applied for a plaque from the historic foundation, so it won't do her any good if she tries."
    "Good thinking, Ashley."
    "I've got to go find my escort," I said, getting up.
    "If you're referring to that nice young detective I saw you with earlier, I last spotted him upstairs in the ballroom where the caterers are serving supper."
    I left Betty and went out into the lobby, then took the carpeted staircase that led to the ballroom on the mezzanine level.
    "Ashley!" Someone caught my arm in the upper hallway.
    I turned to see Cecily Cushman, our famo us true-crime writer. Cecily has snow white hair that f alls to her shoulders, olive skin, black eyes and eyebrows. Arty looking. She always wears little half glasses perched on her nose as though she i s about to read fine print.
    "You are just the person I want to talk to, Ashley," she said, eyeing me over the glasses. "My editor called me as soon as news of your discovery hit the wire services. My publishing house wants to do a book on the murders and they want me to write it."
    "But the crime hasn't been solved," I protested.
    She waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't matter. We can do it as an unsolved case. Those are fascinatin' too. And I'll do some prying . W ho knows ? I may solve it myself. In any case, I'll do a lot of background stuff on Reggie and Shelby's lifestyle, the history of the Campbells all the way back to Adam , and then how you found that skull. Was it his or hers? No one has said."
    I glared at her, shocked and disbelieving. "This conversation is making me ill and I was just about to have supper," I snapped, and left her standing there, mouth gaping open. I glanced back but she just gave me a smugly challenging look.
    In the red carpeted ballroom, restaurants from Lumina station had set up food on long tables. I filled a buffet platter with pasta and a sampling of toppings. Nick was already seated at one of the round tables. Jon was with him and seemed agitated, waving his hands about. Now what?
    Curious, I started toward them, turning so suddenly I bumped into a large man.
    "Oh!" I gasped, tightening my grip on my plate. It tilted precariously, threatening to spill tomato sauce on the man's dazzling white shirtfront that stretched snugly over his round belly. I stepped back, averting disaster. "I'm so sorry. Are you all right?"
    "No harm done," the man said kindly. "It was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going. My wife tells me I'm the original bull in a china shop."
    He did look rather like a bull with his massive head and multiple chins. In fact, there was something oddly familiar about him. I transferred my plate to my left hand and extended my right. "Don't I know you? I'm Ashley Wilkes."
    "Yes, Miss Wilkes, I know who you are although we haven't been formally introduced." He took the hand I offered, giving it a bone-crushing handshake.
    I jerked my hand away. He seemed not to notice.
    "I'm glad for a chance to speak to you, Miss Wilkes," he was saying. "I owe you an apology. I'm Bob King, head of the technicians' union."
    Uh-oh. Yesterday morning in Mirabelle's office. Involuntarily, I took a step backward.
    He made an embarrassed tittering sound . "I don't blame you for reacting that way. I was way out of line the way I treated you and Mr. Campbell. My gripe's not with you folks. I hope you'll accept my apology."
    "Of course, Mr. King, think nothing of it." I backed away.
    "But that woman you're working for, she's ruthless. She doesn't care how many people she hurts just so she gets what she wants." A bright red stain spread over his neck and cheeks.
    Behind me, a woman laughed, high and piercing. I glanced over my shoulder. Melanie. Her face was flushed and she was hanging on a man's arm. She laughed up into his face. He was a good head taller than she, even in her high heels. He slipped his arm around her waist to steady her. Was she drunk?
    I tuned in to what King was saying, "Your dad had a lot of friends in this town, Ms. Wilkes. I like to think I was one of them. That makes my treatment of you yesterday all the more inexcusable. It's just that she makes me furious. She doesn't care about anyone but herself. My guys have served her well. They make her look good, even when she makes stupid mistakes. And they've had to put up with a lot of crap from her!"
    I edged further away. King seemed oblivious as he continued ranting. "She has no scruples, that woman. Thinks nothing of breaking our contract. She'll hire