Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

glowed, in her element. Surrounded by her friends, by a man who obviously adored her, she was happy. "Thanks, shug . Kelly made it. Everybody, help yourself to a roll while they're hot?"
    Devin leered at me. "I'd like to help myself to a hot roll," he said loudly and we all got the double meaning.
    I drew back. Just a few minutes ago we'd been having a nice conversation. Now he was behaving like a jerk. Was it the drinks?
    Jon got up to pour the wine. Jon can't hide his emotions. He was angry. "How about a roll in the ocean?" he asked Devin. "That ought to cool you off."
    "You own this woman?" Devin demanded.
    Sensing a fight coming on, I said very loudly, "Stop it! I don't know what's going on here but Melanie has gone to a lot of trouble to give us a nice dinner. I, for one, intend to enjoy it." I looked at Devin pointedly. "If you can't handle your alcohol, then stop drinking." I picked up his empty wine glass and moved it to the center of the table.
    "Oh, now she wants to mother me. I can go with that." He laughed suggestively.
    Kelly took my cue. "This salmon is to die for, Mickey," she said.
    "Oh, don't use that term," Melanie cried.
    Jon, still standing, clutched the wine bottle and said, "I agree with Ashley. It's a nice night, good food, none of us died today. So no talk of murder and no hitting on the girls." His eyes shot daggers at Devin.
    Devin raised his palms. "Okay, okay. I apologize to everyone and especially to you, Ashley, if I've been out of line."
    "Don't sweat it, Dev ," Mickey said. "Ashley could do with a little manly attention. Now everybody, let's dig in."
    "And what is that supposed to mean?" I asked, outraged, slamming down my wine glass.
    "Hey, nothing, Ashley. Cool it. Why are you so hypersensitive? Is this PMS time?"
    I started to get up but then realized I was hungry. I wasn't going to miss dinner over a goon like Mickey. "Let me tell you something, Mickey Ballantine, in a few weeks, you'll be history. I know Melanie better than you do. One man is never enough for her."
    "Oh, sweetie, that's now true," Melanie said to Mickey and reached out to cover his hand with hers.
    Jon was grinning. Kelly looked disappointed that the fight was not over her.
    Devin was not giving up. "Ashley, I plan to look at boats while I'm here. Do you think you could find some time to show me around, visit the marinas with me?"
    "Well . . . we start work on Kelly's house tomorrow. But, well, we'll see. I'll try to free up an afternoon." Not on your life, buster, I wanted to say but also wanted the hostilities to cease. I like food and all this fighting was spoiling my enjoyment of dinner.
    "Do you think I could tag along to Kelly's house with you?" he asked, and turned to Kelly for permission.
    Her fork midway to her mouth, Kelly paused to give him a blank stare.
    The phone rang and Melanie excused herself and got up to take it inside.
    "Ashley will be working tomorrow morning," Jon said flatly. "She doesn't have time to give you a tour."
    Melanie returned and said, "That was J.C. He's coming over for dessert too."
    "Good," I said. "I haven't spoken to him since I bought his watercolor and I want to tell him how much I like it." I described the beautiful little watercolor I'd bought just two days ago, glad for the interruption and a chance for people to cool off.
    The subject of murder might be off limits during dinner, I thought, but with J.C. and Gordon joining us there'd be no way we could avoid the subject of Val's shooting and the theft of J.C.'s painting from her gallery.
    As I ate and enjoyed every bite of my dinner, I couldn't get over Devin's switch from nice guy to obnoxious punk. Mickey was always obnoxious, no surprise there. But Devin had seemed like a decent sort. And something else occurred to me. When people learn that Nick works for Homeland Security, they ask me a million questions about what he does. Devin had not asked a single one.
    And Devin had not made a play for Kelly as scripted by Melanie and as all men did.

5

    While I loaded the dishwasher, Devin carried in plates and cutlery. He seemed subdued, deep in thought, and made no more passes. When Kelly came inside, he rejoined the others on the deck, their murmuring voices floating inside as he opened then closed the sliding glass door. I brewed decaf while Kelly heaped large servings of her luscious tiramisu onto dessert plates and we both dodged Spunky who was constantly underfoot.
    Kelly and I chatted easily as we worked, and I