Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

child's sand pail and rushed to the water to fill it, then ran back across the beach to pour water on the fire. After many trips, and when the fire seemed to have run out of fuel, it slowed, then died.
    Jon and Gordon heaped piles of sand on the embers.
    "Why the hell did you start a fire, man! " Jon exploded.
    Gordon wiped sweat away from his brow with his sleeve. Flinging the shovel down on the sand then dropping down beside it, he said, "Are you crazy, Campbell? I didn't start it. I was trying to put it out."
    "Well, what happened? Who set the fire?"
    "I was getting ready for bed when the blaze caught my attention. I threw on some clothes, grabbed a shovel and ran down here. Would have called the fire department but my battery is dead. There was someone here and I hollered to him, but he ran off before I could see who he was."
    "Sorry for the misunderstanding," Jon said. "No hard feelings?"
    Gordon reached up and they shook hands. "No hard feelings. And thanks, Ashley." He got up wearily and brushed sand off the back of his shorts then stumbled off toward his house.
    Jon and I trudged slowly back up the beach, collected the blanket, and he drove me back across the bridge to get my van, the only vehicle left in the parking lot outside Savannah's Restaurant.
    I said, "I wonder what that person was burning. I'm going out on the beach early tomorrow and dig up whatever it was. Some type of accelerant was used. I saw the way those pictures ... pictures! That's what they were."
    "Are you sure? I couldn't tell."
    "I think so. Want to meet me?"
    "You bet. I'll be there. Seven?"
    "Seven."
    We hugged goodnight. Even sweaty, Jon smelled good.

10

    Someone had brewed coffee. Its fragrance drew me up the stairs and into the kitchen. I filled a white mug and carried it out onto the top deck where I found Devin Ballantine in a chair pulled up to the railing, feet propped up on a lower rail. I lifted a hand to shade my eyes from the sun and looked him over. He had on shorts and a blue tee shirt. His hair was damp from the shower, curly, almost black. His lashes were long and luxurious. I knew women who would kill for lashes like that.
    I was glad I'd slipped on a long tee shirt over my bikini. I didn't want Devin drooling over me again. "Good morning," I said crisply.
    He gave me a big smile. "Hey there, sleepy head."
    "Sleepy head? It's only seven."
    He got up and dragged another chair over to the rail. "Here you go. Sit next to me. Don't you look yummy in the morning. "
    Oh, don't start, I wanted to shout. And for pity sakes, wash off that overwhelming musk cologne, I wanted to add. For a second he had sounded almost human. He took a sip of his coffee, then said thoughtfully, "You were out late last night. Melanie was worried about you."
    "Oh, I rather doubt that," I said sharply. "Melanie and I stopped keeping track of each others hours years ago."
    "Well, she was wondering where you were. She said it wasn't like you to stay out late when you were working."
    That sure got my hackles up. This guy had a way of getting under my skin. "Are you asking me to account to you for my time?" I asked indignantly.
    "Whoa!" Devin said. "Let's start over. Good morning, Ashley. I hope you slept well." He smiled disarmingly.
    I laughed. "Oh, what the heck. It's no secret. I was on turtle patrol." I told him about my adventures with the loggerhead hatchlings.
    "That sounds like fun. And useful. I'd like to go with you next time. Would you call me?"
    "Sure," I replied, "We always need help." I set my coffee mug down on the table and put on sunglasses. "Going for a walk," I said as I moved to the flight of stairs that led down to the beach.
    Devin sprang up. "Want company?"
    I hesitated, "Well, I am meeting Jon."
    "Oh, Jon won't mind if I tag along."
    He sure was thick-skinned.
    I hesitated a moment, then decided to tell him about our mission. I explained about the bonfire and that we had decided to see what someone had been burning. "It wasn't driftwood," I said. "Driftwood doesn't burn like that."
    I could see I'd piqued his interest. "I saw a rake in a storage room under the house. Let me get it."
    With Devin carrying the rake, we trudged up the beach, passing early morning runners and strollers, many of whom I recognized and greeted with a "hey." No dog walkers though; pooches are banned from April to October and I miss the little cuties. Most dogs are better behaved than most children, I mused, and we don't ban them. As we passed J.C.