Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

about seeing one. Don't you think that if someone was buying something as special as a boat, he'd describe the boats he was considering?"
    Meriweather didn't say what he thought. His noncommittal mask dropped into place. Then, as if choosing his words carefully, he said, "Now I know this is none of my business, Miss Wilkes, but I used to know your father. Your dad was a highly respected judge for New Hanover County. And you are married to a Wilmington PD lieutenant, and we all think a lot of Nick. So I can't help wondering why you and your sister are involved with a hood like Mickey Ballantine? "
    "Involved! I'm not involved with anyone. Mickey is Melanie's friend, not mine. Besides, what has Mickey done?" I asked.
    "Well, he's got a record for starters. Don't you girls know that? Armed robbery in New Jersey. Served a prison sentence but got early release because the prisons were overcrowded. This is not the kind of man your father would want staying in your house. Your dad used to put away punks like Mickey Ballantine. As I said, it's none of my business, but I got a duty to protect you folks."
    He was right. Daddy would be ashamed. I had never been comfortable with Mickey Ballantine.
    "As I say, he's my sister's guest. I'll have a talk with her." I lifted my chin and looked him straight in the eye. He had a good face, a fatherly face. "I don't like him any better than you do," I said. "I'll tell Melanie I want him out of here."
    "Good girl," Meriweather said.
    "What did he steal?" I asked.
    "He and some friends high-jacked a truck load of valuables: jewelry, antiques, paintings. They were part of an estate sale and being shipped to an auction house in New York."
    "Auction house? You don't mean Christie's, do you?"
    "Yes, I think that was the name. Why?"
    "It's just kind of a coincidence. J.C. Lauder's collection is going to be sold at Christie's after Labor Day."
    Meriweather grunted, then got up. "Thanks for your help, Miss Wilkes. You've given me a lot to go on. I'd like your permission to dust your bedroom and the doors for prints."
    "Sure," I replied, standing up and straightening my tee shirt. I stuck out my hand. "I appreciate all you're doing, Officer Meriweather . I'll cooperate any way I can. Melanie too. I'll show you downstairs to my rooms, then I'm off to work."
    Meriweather's handshake was firm and strong. "I'm counting on your cooperation, Miss Wilkes. Watch out for yourself, you hear."
    "I will. Oh, and Officer Meriweather , I was wondering, what kind of work did Devin Ballantine do? He never said and no one else seemed to know."
    "We're looking into his background, Miss Wilkes. Right now, I have no idea what he did for a living."
    "But couldn't Mickey tell you," I asked.
    "Mickey Ballantine is not cooperating. He's lawyered up. Makes me think he has something to hide."
    "But surely you don't suspect Mickey of involvement in Devin's death. And anyway wasn't Devin's death an accident? Didn't he drown? Maybe fell off the pier."
    "Sorry, but I'm not at liberty to talk about cause of death. You understand. Daughter of a judge. Married to a member of law enforcement." I led him back inside and down the stairs to my rooms as Melanie and Kelly watched, open mouthed. "Tell that husband of yours that Hank Meriweather sends his regards the next time you talk to him."
    "Sure," I said. And I would. The next time I talked to him, but who knew when that would be. I was getting tired of waiting. I needed Nick here with me now. I called his cell phone number as I drove into town. When I got his voice mail, I said, "Call me right away. I've got important news to tell you."

19

    Work on the Lauder house was progressing smoothly. Kelly stopped by for a peek, but only a peek, because the sub-contractors were at work all over the place. A foundation specialist was repairing the foundation, the electricians were working in the basement too and throughout the house. Plasterers were repairing wall and ceiling cracks, and a painter had started painting some of the trim work. The house smelled wonderfully of paint fumes and repair compounds even with all the windows open and large fans stirring the hot, humid air.
    Sticking her head around a doorway, Kelly exclaimed, "Oh, my! The rooms look huge without all the furniture. It was always so crowded in here, Grandpa Joe saved everything. But now it looks spacious."
    "The air-conditioning contractor says he can use the existing duct work so that makes our job much easier," I