Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

know what you're going through," he said. "I've been there, remember? You have to keep busy, keep going, get on with your own life. It's what your mother would want for you if she were her old self."
    "All I know is I feel guilty. Like I've really let her down."
    "Don't, Ashley."
    "But she seemed so confused, Nick."
    "Ashley, I'm not saying this to make you feel better. After a few days, she'll feel safer there, and that will be comfort to her and to you."
    "I hope you're right. OK , I'll see you in a while. Pick me up at Campbell House."
    I pulled into Orange Street. A silver Mercedes was parked under the trees in front of Campbell House. I park behind it, recognizing it at once. I shouldn't have been surprised Mirabelle was here. With her television show off the air, what else did she have to do but micromanage the restoration project? Besides, she was bound to show up sooner or later. I steeled myself for another of her irrational outbursts.
    "Why was the front door standing open for all the world to come and go?" she demanded as soon as she saw me. She was dressed in jeans and boots with a denim shirt.
    Styrofoam peanuts and plastic bubble wrap flew from her hands as she dug furiously in a box like a dog digging for a bone. She looked up at me and frowned.
    Trying to gain some control of the situation, I asked, "Do you like what we've accomplished so far?"
    "How can I tell in this mess?"
    We locked eyes over wooden crates and large cardboard boxes. I was the first to break eye contact. The sounds of construction came from the kitchen. A draft flowed through the house , causing the chandelier crystals to dance crazily and tinkle like tumbling water.
    "Come on back to the kitchen, Mirabelle, and I'll explain what we're doing and how everything will look when we're done."
    "Not now. I'm checking that those people sent the right cookware. You can't trust anyone these days and you're a fool if you do."
    She retrieved a Swiss Army knife from the brown leather shoulder bag propped on one of the boxes. I watched as she sliced efficiently through the flaps of a second box. "Oh, here are my German carbon steel knives. They'd better be the sizes I ordered."
    I looked around the room helplessly. I'd had the Sheraton dining room furniture sent to an expert for repairs and cleaning. The electricity to the chandelier had been disconnected until an electrician could make repairs. In the corners, curved paneled doors concealed small storage compartments. One door led to a butler's pantry and the kitchen wing. Pale green light filtered through tall windows from the jungle outside.
    "I've contacted Gilbert's Nursery and they're sending a crew out next week to prune the trees and shrubbery."
    "Gilbert's?" Mirabelle repeated vaguely. "Oh, well, cancel them, dear. I've already made arrangements for the landscaping."
    "You have? But that's my job. That's what you hired me to do. You shouldn't make other arrangements without consulting me."
    "Consulting you!" She waved the army knife, then slashed through the top of a rectangular box. Straightening up, she fixed me with an exasperated expression. "Consult you, indeed. Ray Woods is doing the work as a favor to me."
    "Ray Woods? But he's a novice, Mirabelle. He's never handled a job of this magnitude or importance. And what do you mean 'as a favor'? Are you saying he's not charging a fee?"
    I couldn't believe how Mirabelle was wresting control of the project right out of my hands. My pulse banged in my temples and my head was starting to ache.
    Mirabelle tossed the army knife on top of the box and jammed her fists on her hips. "You are such a Girl Scout, Ashley Wilkes. You know nothing about negotiating or making things happen. Ray will do all the landscaping, including planting an herb garden for me next spring. In return, I'll feature his landscaping projects on my show."
    Disapproval must have shown on my face because she said, "You'd better wise up, dear. This is the way the real world operates."

    ***

    "She's cheating me out of my commission on landscaping," I complained to Nick. We glanced back at the house where she was standing in the door, watching us.
    He draped an arm around my shoulders and gave me an encouraging squeeze. "Come on. Let's forget about her and homicide cases and everything else for a couple of hours."
    "You're on," I said, determined to have a good time.
    Leaves fluttered from the trees, weightless as feathers, then settled at our feet as we strolled leisurely