Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW

1

    My sister Melanie is stalking a man.
    The man is Joey Fielding, one-time television actor, now restaurateur.
    Melanie is Wilmington's star realtor and the prettiest girl on the Carolina Coast. She is a former Miss North Carolina, representing our state in the Miss America pageant when she was twenty-one. So stalking a man is not something you'd expect her to do, not in your wildest dreams. Nor in my wildest dreams.
    Melanie can have any man she wants. Since junior high, she has had her pick of the entire male population. As early as seventh grade, boys flocked to our front yard like starlings, dropping their bikes on the lawn like so much starling detritus before heading to the deep front porch where Melanie held court. Mama and Daddy were driven to distraction. The theatrics unfolded like the Twelve Oaks party scene from Gone With the Wind -- Mama's favorite book -- where Scarlett's suitors buzzed around her like bumble bees at a hollyhock bush in full, sweet bloom.
    When Melanie's beaux grew into men, the pressure grew -- marriage proposals, expensive gifts, offers of exotic trips -- nothing was too good for her, or too costly. With Melanie, men were usually willing to put their money where their hearts were.
    Why then were we now stalking Joey Fielding? I say "we" because I had been recruited to accompany her on this recent descent into temporary insanity. I could not let her go alone; somebody had to save her from herself.
    "I just want to see where he lives," she explained as she accelerated down South College Road on Wednesday afternoon. We were traveling in her recent purchase, a CLK 500 Cabriolet Mercedes convertible, identical to the car Joey Fielding drove. He has the best taste in cars, she had explained.
    The convertible's top was down. The first week of November was unseasonably warm, as balmy as summer, temperatures climbing into the low nineties by midday, a not infrequent occurrence here on the Carolina Coast.
    "But you already know the Monkey Junction apartment complex," I protested. "You know every piece of real estate in this town down to the precise square footage. So why do you need to see this complex?"
    She turned to fix me with a frown. I couldn't see her eyes, hidden as they were behind a pair of oversized Holly Golightly sunglasses, but I knew they'd be narrowed, green irises flashing through long black lashes.
    "Watch the road!" I screeched as we almost sideswiped a monster SUV. On my side too!
    "I want to see which apartment he lives in, check things out," she argued with an atypical whine in her usually pleasant voice as she stomped on the brake for a red light at the intersection of Piner Road.
    "And what if he's there? What if he sees you? We aren't exactly inconspicuous in this red car with your red hair." I glanced at her bright auburn hair. Mine is dark brown, not as showy.
    "He's not there," Melanie replied with assurance. "He's at the restaurant."
    "And you know this how?" I asked, exasperated. The entire subject of Melanie's obsession with Joey Fielding made me tired and cranky. I had love problems of my own.
    I am Ashley Wilkes, historic preservationist. Together with my partner, architect Jon Campbell, I restore old houses in the Greater Wilmington area. And right now, we had a really big project underway that required all of my time and attention. Plus my own love life was a shambles with my marriage sailing down the tubes.
    Yet here I was, racing toward Monkey Junction in a bright red, open convertible with my flamboyant red-headed sister who was as lovesick as a mare in season, preparing to scope out Joey Fielding's apartment. What idiocy! The outside of the apartment would look like any other, so what did Melanie hope to learn?
    "I know he's at the restaurant because I checked the parking lot and his car is parked near the rear door," she replied to my question.
    I had visions of my sister skulking around among the dumpsters in the parking lot behind Joey's Place.
    "Besides," she continued, "I called the restaurant and asked to speak to him and when someone went to get him, I hung up. So I know he's there and he'll be there until after midnight. That's when the suppliers make their deliveries. I've seen the food trucks unload well after midnight. That man is so committed. He works as hard as I do and I admire that."
    Now that was true. Melanie is thoroughly dedicated to her career.
    "Melanie, are you telling me you spy on him in the middle of the night?" Oh, this was far