Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

household had settled down for a siesta.

4

    We were out on the top deck enjoying the sunset. From up here we had a spectacular view of the ocean. Yet by leaning over the side railing one also had a view of the west where the ICW was swallowing the sun. Golden rays slanted across the narrow island, shimmered on the waves and set the ocean ablaze with color. Devin Ballantine dropped down into the chair next to mine and propped his feet up on the rail next to mine. I had on sandals, he wore boat shoes. We both had tall drinks in our hands. Even out here in the open air I could smell his musk oil scent.
    "This is nice," he said.
    Our vista included palm trees and century plants below, dunes dotted with sea oats, a stretch of white powdery sand, then the incredible Atlantic. Its color was deepening quickly now, changing from pink to crimson to purple even as I watched. The sky in the east darkened to a deep purple hue as well.
    Devin said, "It must have been hard on you girls, finding that body like that."
    I put a finger to my lips. "Shush. Melanie has declared the subject of Valentine's murder off limits until after dinner." I was grateful; I didn't want to talk about Val's death with a stranger.
    "Good idea. You know, I grew up near the ocean too," he said casually.
    "Oh, where?" I asked, turning to give him a closer look. He had black hair and cool blue-gray eyes the color of the ocean on a stormy day; he looked a lot like Mickey. Seeing them together reminded me of the Baldwin brothers, Alec and his younger brother -- I couldn't remember his name -- William? Alex Baldwin had once owned a beach house on Figure Eight Island when he'd been in a relationship with Kim Bassinger and there were many reported "sightings" of the pair.
    "Jersey Shore," Devin replied. "Atlantic City."
    Atlantic City, home of casinos and gamblers. Why was I not surprised? Mickey owned a club in Wilmington, near the riverfront. Nick had told me the police suspected him of illegal gambling and drug dealing and were watching the club. Melanie has complete control over her professional life. She used dangerous men to provide the excitement she missed in her life.
    Jon had agreed to stay for dinner. Mickey was grilling salmon on an outside grill where fragrant smoke billowed. Jon served drinks from a bar cart, gin and tonics for everyone but me; I was having a soft drink.
    Earlier Melanie and Kelly had assembled a lobster salad inside. Melanie offered Spunky nibbles of lobster until, satisfied, he moved to the glass door to stare at his reflection. I wondered if the smell of salmon would lure him onto the deck. "Give him time," Melanie had said when we'd discussed his reluctance to step outside. "He's a house cat. His curiosity will get the better of him and he'll come out. But he'd better not leave this deck; I don't want to lose him."
    "They're all working but us," Devin said.
    "That's okay. We'll clean up."
    I sipped my icy diet soda . "We grew up on the ICW -- the Intracoastal Waterway. You can see our house when you drive over the drawbridge to the mainland."
    "You'll have to point it out to me some time."
    "Sure. Melanie sold it almost two years ago when our mother got sick."
    "Sorry to hear that. Is she okay now?"
    "No, she has dementia but with medication she improved enough so that she is able to live with our aunt Ruby in Savannah who is a retired nurse. It was her wish."
    "Old age is rough," Devin said.
    Another subject I did not wish to pursue with a stranger. "When I was a kid," I said, "I thought the ICW was a natural body of water like the Atlantic and the Cape Fear River. My dad explained how most of the ICW was man made. In the twenties and thirties the Army Corps of Engineers dredged the channel. It starts up North somewhere so that you can sail from the Chesapeake to Florida on the ICW." I reflected that this was something I'd like to do with Nick one day. " Harbour Island, where the Causeway runs from the mainland to the beach, was man made actually. They compacted the sand and clay when they were dredging the ICW and shaped it into an island."
    Then I said, "I hear you're shopping for a sail boat."
    "Considering one," he replied. "And I hear your husband's away, working for Homeland Security?"
    "Yes," I replied. Devin was better at asking questions than answering them. There wasn't anything of a personal nature that I cared to discuss with him. But it turned out that Devin had other things on his mind.
    "Mickey was telling me