Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

flooded with light from windows on three sides. Most of the top floor was one huge open space housing a kitchen, dining area, and sitting area with a plasma TV. Topside, we called it. The master bedroom suite was on this level too, the guest rooms down on the middle level. A massive pool table dominated a corner of the greatroom .
    Mickey was shooting pool with another man who looked like a younger version of himself. Aha! So this was the hottie Melanie had referred to, intended as boy-toy entertainment for Kelly, no doubt. Mickey leaned the cue stick against the table and growled, "Hey, babe," to Melanie and opened his arms. She walked into them to receive his kiss.
    "Put the cat down, babe," Mickey said, not at all friendly.
    Melanie lowered Spunky to the floor, then Mickey took her in his arms and kissed her so intimately it was embarrassing to watch. Right before I turned away, the other man winked at me. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. Beware, my instincts warned.
    Kelly seemed not to notice. She was doing her "Hey, look at me!" routine. She introduced herself to the other man and I heard him say he was Mickey's brother, Devin. And that explained the heap of luggage piled up against the white wall near the entry hall.
    The house should have been named Bella Blanc -- everything was white. The walls were white and the carpeting, the sectional furniture, the shades and draperies. There was not a spot of color in the decor, not a single picture on the walls. They were white and stark and the only relief to all this whiteness was a great expanse of glass that framed sky, sand, and ocean.
    By contrast, the pool table was an inviting oasis of green felt and gleaming mahogany on massive Chippendale-style legs to which everyone seemed to gravitate.
    Melanie caught her breath and introduced us all to each other. Mickey still had his arm wrapped around her waist and they looked like they wanted to be alone. I suspected that shortly they would adjourn to the bedroom and, sure enough, within minutes, Mickey was picking up his luggage and Melanie said she was going to help him unpack. Uh huh!
    "Show Devin to one of the guest rooms, will you, shug ?" she called over her shoulder as she trailed slavishly after Mickey. Spunky followed her with the same groveling show of adoration that she was showering on Mickey. Oh, Melanie!
    I went to the refrigerator and pulled out a jug of iced tea -- first things first -- and filled four tall glasses.
    Jon started telling Devin that there'd been a murder on the island and that we'd found the victim, while Kelly sat on the sectional, crossing and uncrossing her legs and examining her cuticles. Devin asked a surprising amount of questions about Valentine and the gallery in a manner that reminded me of the method Nick used when asking questions. Oh, Nick, I miss you.
    Seeing that the men were ignoring her with their recitation of crime wave statistics, Kelly got up and announced, "I'm going to my room to take an aspirin and lie down. This has been a gruesome day."
    "So, Devin Ballantine, how long are you staying?" I asked after she sauntered to the stairs. I refilled our glasses at the center island.
    " Uhmmm , not sure. A week, maybe two. Depends."
    "Depends on what?" Jon asked.
    "How long it takes to find a boat. That's why I'm down here, I'm buying a boat."
    "That shouldn't take long," Jon said, and I got the impression he wasn't too keen on having Devin hang around for very long. He kind of rubbed me the wrong way too -- overly confident, smug, self-satisfied, good looking and he knew it.
    Be fair, Ashley, I told myself. You've only just met him. Yes, and he's got one strike against him from the get-go -- he's Mickey's brother. "Let me show you to your room," I told him. "Jon, you're staying for dinner, aren't you? I think I'm going to take a nap too. I've got a suite and there's a sofa in the sitting room if you want to stretch out."
    I glanced in the direction of the master bedroom. Spunky sat outside the closed door as still as a statue, listening intently to sounds I could not hear. Was grateful I could not hear. You won't be seeing her for hours, I wanted to tell him.
    I picked him up and took him with me as I led the way down the enclosed staircase. Jon grabbed one suitcase, Devin the other and they followed me. As I reached past Devin to open the door to his room, I caught a strong whiff of musk oil. Too powerful, too cloying.
    About fifteen minutes later our little