Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

home, and I hated it wasn't a normal date but related to a murder investigation.
    "What's wrong?" I asked, seeing how he was bracing himself. I thought I might laugh, inappropriate as such a reaction might be. "I mean in addition to Mirabelle's being murdered, and my mother being missing, and me being without a job. I'm on the verge of hysteria here," I confessed, "and your attitude is not helping."
    He put one arm around my shoulder and lifted my chin with his free hand. "I'm here for you, Ashley. And you're strong. You'll make it through this. Now listen to me. I want you to promise me you won't go back in that house."
    "I guess you've got it sealed again." I groaned. "Why would I go back? The woman I was restoring it for is dead. There's no reason for me to go back."
    "I'm sorry about that. I know you'd have done a good job. But there's danger there, Ashley. When I think of you walking into that house alone when a killer might have been hiding in a closet or another room . . . . Well, just don't do it again, not for any reason."
    "I already said I won't." Oh, how I wished he wasn't a cop. His profession was already creating problems for us and we'd barely begun to build a relationship.
    "There are things I have to tell you," I said, thinking of the conversation I'd overheard last night between Gordon Cushman and Mirabelle.
    "There's something I have to tell you too," he said, pulling away but taking both my hands in his. "I have to tell you this myself because you're going to find out, and I don't want you thinking I'm going behind your back."
    "You're scaring me, Nick. What is it?"
    His voice softened as if to lessen the impact of his words. "We have to bring Melanie in for questioning about Mirabelle's murder."
    "What?"
    "Someone saw her entering the house alone shortly after six P.M. And we've learned Mirabelle was about to make a lot of trouble for Melanie over the sale of the house. Ethics violations and misrepresentation of its value, according to Mirabelle's lawyers."
    He pulled an envelope out of his jacket pocket. "This was in Ms. Morgan's car. Technically, I shouldn't be showing it to you, but I want you to read it."
    The letter was addressed to Mirabelle and detailed how her lawyers, acting on her instructions, had drawn up a lawsuit against Melanie Wilkes that sought restitution and damages in the matter of Ms. Wilkes' professional misconduct. Ms. Wilkes, it went on to say, had misrepresented the value of Campbell House when she sold it to Ms. Morgan. The papers were at the law offices and would be filed with the Clerk of Court at the New Hanover County Courthouse, just as soon as Ms. Morgan came in to sign them.
    "She was threatening to have the state pull Melanie's license," he said softly.
    "But Nick, the only reason Melanie went into the house was to find me. She admits she was there looking for me. My car was parked out front; it was logical for her to think I was inside. She told me she walked around and didn't see anyone, then figured I was at Riverfest, which was correct. You couldn't see Mirabelle's body unless you looked behind the crates."
    "She'll have a chance to defend herself, Ashley. Tell her to get a good criminal lawyer." Nick was trying to reassure me, but ended up frightening me even more. "Now what did you want to tell me?"
    I repeated the conversation I'd overheard between Gordon and Mirabelle and how she'd threatened to blackmail him. It was all I could do to keep my mind on what I was saying. I kept thinking Melanie was in danger of being arrested for murder. No, I wouldn't let that happen. She and Mama were the only immediate family I had. Besides, she was innocent. Melanie couldn't commit murder any more than I could.
    "I'll check Cushman's alibi," Nick said. "This is by no means the end of the investigation. I'll pursue this case until I'm sure I've got the right person."
    He said goodnight and left, promising to call, but I was in a stupor and merely nodded. Oh, Melanie.

2 3

    I sat bolt upright out of a sound sleep. The brass key I’d kicked then picked up went to Campbell House's front door! I could hardly wait for daylight so I could test my theory.
    Seven o'clock on a Sunday morning is the most peaceful time of the week downtown, and I was sure I wouldn't encounter anyone when I returned to the scene of the crime -- forgive me, Nick. I dressed in narrow-legged jeans, flats, and a navy turtle neck. I gave my curls a few licks with a brush and slipped silver hoops