Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

hope you're locking your door," he said as he parked the SUV. "I think you ought to move back home. I don't like Devin and I like Mickey less."
    "Melanie got upset when I suggested it, but I've decided to cut my stay short and move back home on Sunday."
    "Good, because otherwise I'm about ready to set up camp in your sitting room and sleep on your sofa. So, moving back home, that's the sensible thing to do," he said as we crossed Elijah's deck to take seats under a big green umbrella where we could watch the occasional barge float downriver. Our food came quickly and I munched on a chargrilled burger. Heaven. A treat after all the seafood I'd been eating. Sometimes a girl just needs beef!
    Jon was not himself, was quiet and brooding. Usually he's upbeat, a fun companion, an easy conversationalist. Then after consuming a fried oyster sandwich and downing a large beer he seemed to revive.
    "Willie told me about the accident yesterday," he said as we waited for the check.
    "It was nothing," I said. "The brick missed me. We've had worse near-misses at other restoration sites. What I don't understand is that I was sure I saw someone at an upstairs window. I thought it was you. But there was no one in the house when we searched. And where were you, by the way?"
    "Having a late breakfast with Tiffany. No, don't get that look. I met her for breakfast. It was the only time she could take a break from shooting." Tiffany was an actress on a locally produced TV series. "I broke it off with her," Jon said soberly.
    "But Jon, why?"
    "Women!" he snapped and pushed back his chair. "Look Ashley, I want you to be careful. I don't want anything happening to my . . . partner." He wadded up his napkin, threw it on the table, and stood up. "Where's our check?" he demanded. He was in a snit, so uncharacteristic for laid-back Jon.
    Kelly's muffled voice brought me back to the present. With the menu in front of her face, she was telling the waiter, "I'll have the crab cakes."
    "Good choice," he responded.
    "And a second round of margaritas," Melanie said.
    Must be hard being a celebrity, I realized. Always hiding behind large dark glasses, or menus.
    After he left with our orders -- seafood lasagna for me and grilled tuna for Melanie -- Kelly sipped her margarita then said to Melanie, "Ashley's right. What does Devin do for a living? And what about Mickey? You said he had a club downtown but I've never seen it and he's always hanging around the beach house."
    "They had a broken water pipe at the club so it's closed for repairs. That's probably where he and Devin are right now. And I think Devin is a lawyer."
    "Get out!" I exclaimed. "A lawyer!" Well, I'll be doggone. Couldn't be. "I'd have thought ballroom dance instructor or cruise ship social director. With that heavy musk scent and those silky tropical shirts, he's like a throwback to a Dudley Moore movie. All he needs are gold chains around his neck."
    Melanie laughed. The margaritas had lightened the mood. Maybe this "girls night out" wasn't such a bad idea after all. "Well, hey, don't hold back, shug ," she giggled. "Tell us exactly how you feel about him."
    Kelly confided, "I will say this about Devin, he has a real heavy-duty kind of friend. This guy came to the beach house several times this week to pick him up. Military type, the hair cut, the walk, the take-no-prisoners attitude. And driving a Marine Humvee. I mean a real Humvee, not one of those Hummers the pretend soldiers drive around on the interstate." She laughed. "He actually called me ma'am."
    "Devin did tell me he had a friend who was a civilian contractor at Lejeune," I said.
    "I'll ask Mickey about it," Melanie said.
    "Well, I sure wish he'd lay off me," I groaned.
    "Listen, shug , I've been meaning to tell you," Melanie began, "after Labor Day I'm going back to New York with Kelly for about a week. I need a break, and the market slacks off a bit right after Labor Day."
    "We'll have a ball," Kelly said, and winked at Melanie. "The men aren't as cute in New York as our Southern boys but they are better dressed. I'll introduce you around. It'll be fun."
    "And," Melanie said, turning to me, "I've never been to a Christie's auction before so Kelly and I plan to attend J.C.'s auction. And there will be parties with the big time art collectors. I can't wait."
    I was thoughtful for a moment. "Remember how much fun we used to have when I was at Parsons and you and Mama came up for a visit. You'd stay with Babe and Ted and all