Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

Lauder's house I saw him out on the deck, doing Yoga. I waved.
    "I think that position is called the tree," I mentioned to Devin. J.C. was standing on one foot, the other foot lifted and pressed into his thigh. His hands were joined together high over his head."
    "He's sure got good balance for an old guy," Devin said, looking back at J.C. "Still hasn't moved. I'd be hopping around on that one foot."
    Devin wasn't bad when he stopped putting on a front.
    "Bet you could do that," he said then. "You've got great legs."
    I stopped abruptly and turned to him. "You never give up, do you, Devin? You know, I think that basically you're a nice guy but you've got this Casanova complex and think you have to hit on women to prove your manhood or something. As of right now, you are going to stop hitting on me. Otherwise, I'm going to have you kicked out of my sister's house!"
    Devin's mouth dropped open. "Wow, you are something. Okay, okay, you win. I apologize." He switched the rake to his left hand, shook hands with me with his right. "A truce?"
    "You're on," I said.
    Over his shoulder I saw J.C. watching us. We continued our walk. "So you think someone was burning pictures," he said casually. Too casually. I gave him a look. What was he up to? Devin Ballantine was an enigma. A regular guy one minute, charming even, a jerk the next.
    "Maybe the stolen pictures?" he pressed.
    "I don't know, Devin. But yes, that idea did occur to me. They burned like they'd been soaked in an accelerant. But wouldn't the oil and turpentine on the canvas act as an accelerant?"
    Devin looked thoughtful. "Seems that way to me."
    Jon was waiting for us. Like Devin he'd had the foresight to bring a rake. "What's he doing here?" he asked me, not even bothering to conceal his hostility.
    Devin stood the rake in the sand. "Ashley has pointed out that I've been acting like a jerk, Jon. Sorry."
    Jon looked at me. "He wants to help," I said.
    Jon wasn't convinced. "Hmmm," was all he said, then pointed to the bonfire site. "Tide washed out a lot of what was here. I managed to unearth a few items."
    He indicated a pile of debris at his feet, then lifted a charred object and handed it to me.
    "I'll take this down to the water to see if I can wash off the ashes," I said.
    When I returned, they were hunkered down, poking around in the pile. I showed them what I'd found. "It looks like the corner of a frame. See the gilt."
    Devin looked up into my face, serious now. "Some of these fragments do look like canvas. I believe someone was burning paintings. These must be the stolen paintings from Valentine's robbery."
    Jon frowned. "But that doesn't make sense. Why would someone steal them, then burn them?"
    "Did you bring your cell phone, Jon?" I asked. "We've got to report this."
    Jon withdrew his cell phone from his pocket and called Officer Meriweather who was heading the investigation for Wrightsville PD. Folding his phone closed, he said, "He'll be here in a few minutes. Asked us to stay with the paintings . . . stuff, whatever it is."
    We walked down to the water's edge, searching for additional fragments of frames and canvases in the tide. Devin remained at the bonfire site. I searched the sand but didn't find anything new.
    The sun rose higher, pure and golden.
    "Is he really going to tone down the rhetoric?" Jon asked, referring to Devin.
    "I think so. It was all an act, like he's got something to prove. Don't ask me. What I know about men could fill a thimble."
    "Still no word from Nick?" he asked gently.
    I shook my head. "No. Something's wrong, Jon, very wrong. I don't know where to turn."
    "What about checking with the chief of Wilmington PD?"
    "I've already tried him. He said he hasn't heard a word, that Nick doesn't report to him any longer. He's worried too."
    Jon turned. "There's Hank." Officer Meriweather was striding across the beach.
    We both looked to the bonfire site. "Where the hell did Ballantine go?"
    Devin was gone.

11

    I left Jon to deal with Officer Meriweather whom he knew on a first name basis. As a permanent resident of the island, Jon knew all the members of the PD. I had to hurry back to the cottage to get ready for work. The sun was heating things up as I trudged down the beach to the south end. I passed a family of sun worshippers, children happily building a sand castle with dad, mom shiny with oil; she and her miniature, a pre-teen daughter, were stretched out in beach chairs.
    Where had Devin disappeared to? I expected to see