Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

sheeting into the reception hall. He asked my name, his notepad and pen poised. When I replied Ashley Wilkes, he gave me a searching look. "I believe I knew your father. Judge Wilkes was your father, wasn't he?"
    "Yes," I said softly.
    "Good man. We miss him."
    Maybe it was a delayed reaction to the shock of finding that skull, but my eyes filled with tears. I blinked them back, not wanting to make a fool of myself in front of this stranger. Just the mention of my father reminded me of how I'd always relied on him in tough situations. If he were alive, I'd be on the phone with him right now, and he'd be saying, “ Hang on, sweetheart, I'll be right there. ”
    "I miss him too," I said softly, surprised I was sharing my tender feelings with a hard-boiled detective. Except he wasn't hard-boiled. Behind the guarded expression, the cocky posturing, compassion flowed from him to me. This is a good guy, I realized with a flash of intuition.
    Anxiety must have shown on my face because he reached out a hand to steady me. "You've had a nasty shock, Miss Wilkes. Here, sit down."
    He motioned to two shield-back Hepplewhite side chairs I planned to send out for cleaning , and we sat in them. He watched me, his gaze controlled, yet I detected male-female interest. He liked me, even I could see that. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, his face a long oval, moderately tan, and his light ash brown hair was combed neatly to the side. "Your dad was one of the best judges we ever had in New Hanover County."
    I brushed a watery eye with the back of my hand, smearing dust into it and causing it to tear. I tried to eliminate the irritant by blinking rapidly.
    Detective Yost pulled a packet of tissues out of his jacket pocket and handed them to me. "Look, Miss Wilkes, you're upset and I don't blame you. It was hard on you, finding that skull. Just give me your address and telephone number and you can go. I'll contact you later for a statement." He stood up, our interview over.
    I gave him my address on Summer Rest Road. He snapped the notebook shut and slipped it into his inside jacket pocket. With his jacket open, I saw how fit he was, how well-dressed, how costly his suit must have be en . I also glimpsed a shoulder holster and an impressive piece of weaponry. I don't know one gun from another but this was heavy-duty, obviously police-issue. The sight of that gun brought home the gravity of my situation: I'd stumbled into a homicide case. Someone had killed that person in the wall.
    "You OK ? You want an officer to drive you home?" Yost took my elbow and helped me to stand.
    " I’ll be all right,” I replied. “But thanks for the offer.”
    "What is your role here?" he asked.
    "I'm a historic preservationist," I explained. "I oversee the project, kind of a site supervisor. I do a lot of the design work. I file the Certificate of Appropriateness with the historic commission, see that we adhere to the guidelines, keep us legal ."
    He nodded. "I handled some of the paperwork when my dad and I remodeled our house. Must be pretty complicated with a house this important . Well, you take care of yourself, Miss Wilkes. I wouldn't want anything happening to Judge Wilkes' daughter."
    He smiled at me and I was surprised to see dimples appear on either side of his mouth. I fought the urge to reach out and touch them. Unaware of how his smile affected me, he gave me a polite nod and stepped briskly toward the kitchen wing.
    I found myself thinking that since he had my phone number, maybe he'd call. Then I gave myself a shake, admonishing myself that I was involved with a police investigation not a dating service.
    I was making my way out when an entourage of officials hurried through the open door and swept me back inside with them. Uniformed cops and forensic technicians surrounded a tall, distinguished-looking man, whom they all seemed to defer to. One of the cops called him Dr. Banks. The medical examiner, I realized. They filed through the flap in the vinyl sheeting and disappeared into the kitchen wing, leaving me alone in the hall again.
    Curiosity got the better of me and I went through the dining room and into the butler's pantry to spy on them. Concealed by the frosty vinyl, I withdrew a pocket knife from my shorts and carved a small window in the sheeting.
    They were all in there, combing through the debris. I watched the scene unfold for as long as my stomach could take it. Dr. Banks cupped the skull in his gloved hands, holding it