Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk

meat tenderizer to send the entire assemblage into cardiac arrest.
    "There were no living relatives," someone behind me said. "She left everything to the Historic Preservation Society."
    What! Who said that? I whipped around but everyone was talking at once.
    "Her one good deed and she had to die to make it happen," another person quipped.
    On the other side of the room, Nick was studying the guests. I had resolutely avoided him, yet I couldn't help following the direction of his gaze as he watched Sara Beth Franks deep in conversation with Cec ily Cushman. I'd been assuming the killers were a man and a woman, but could they have been two women? I had only Sara Beth's word for it that she had left town to follow Reggie and Shelby to Paris. Perhaps she was fleeing from murder.
    Across the room, Melanie was talking to Teddy. I crossed to join them. Teddy gave me a hug. "I can't believe she's gone. She was such a powerful force, I thought she'd live forever. Who do the police suspect?"
    Why did everyone think I had inside info because of my few dates with Nick? "Bob King's at the top of my list." Then I told Teddy about my break-in and all the destruction.
    "Poor Ashley. I'll come over and help you clean up if you want."
    I looked pointedly at Melanie. Why hadn't she offered to help? "I got a lot of it done last night, but thanks anyway, Teddy."
    "I'm going back for seconds. Bring you something? Melanie? Ashley?"
    "No, thanks," Melanie said. "I've got to watch my figure."
    "Oooh, don't worry. You're a stunner."
    "What a sweet guy," she said when he left. "You know, you're not the only one who's out of work. So is he. You could show a little sympathy."
    I blinked. And then, dammit, I felt ashamed.
    She went on, "He might be forced to sell his house. He asked me to appraise it for him. I think he'll be surprised at how much it's worth."
    Teddy give up his house? "He loves that house, Melanie. What a shame."
    Someone touched my arm. "Ashley, a word?"
    "Oh, hi, Betty." Melanie moved away to join Joel.
    Betty murmured, "Poor Mirabelle didn't have many friends, but her TV audiences loved her. In the end she was more generous than we gave her credit for."
    "So it is true."
    "Yes, it's true, Ashley. Mirabelle surprised us all. She left us her money, as well as this house and her antiques. We'll sell the house. Best of all, she left us Campbell House."
    "What?"
    "The Board is in accord. We want you and Jon Campbell to restore Campbell House for us. It was Sheldon Mackie's suggestion. He's such a dear man and he respects your talent. We're going to turn the mansion into a museum and use it as our headquarters. So if you want the job, it's yours."
    "Do I! This is the most fantastic news. I can't wait to tell Melanie."
    "If you could meet with us soon and submit your plans . . . it's just a formality."
    I kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Betty. You're my fairy godmother."
    After that, I could barely keep a straight face. I searched for Nick in the crowd. How much I wanted to tell him. I knew he'd be happy for me.
    I wandered to a window, wanting to pinch myself. The sky was milky white, as iridescent as a pearl, so bright it hurt my eyes to look at it. The rain had let up. The meteorologists were having a tough time predicting the storm's path. Nancy was still hundreds of miles out at sea, churning and gathering strength. Where would she strike?
    Outside on the front lawn, Gordon Cushman and Sherman Warner were smoking cigars, prancing around each other like bandy roosters. Suspects two and three. Gordon was husky and looked like he worked out. He'd have had no problem disposing of two bodies.
    Gordon threw his cigar on the lawn and took a threatening step toward Sherman. He yelled something. Sherman took a step back, put up his fists to defend himself. His lips curled in a snarl.
    Gordon lunged at him, fists flying. Then they were grappling with each other and rolling on the ground. Gordon sat astride Sherman's chest, punching the daylights out of him.
    "Fight! Fight!" I yelled, pointing outside.
    Nick dashed out of the house, followed by several men. "How they love this stuff," Betty said over my shoulder. "Why do men make such a fuss about PMS, when it's testosterone-surge that's the real threat to peace?"
    The men pulled Gordon and Sherman apart. Sherman's nose was bleeding. They dusted themselves off and strode off in different directions. Gordon went around the corner of the house. Sherman got into a BMW and drove off, wheels