Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW

until we get the go ahead, so our restoration project is on hold."
    Jon said, "Well, Jamie McAllister left a message for me on my answering machine last night."
    "She did?" I asked. Interesting. She had not tried to reach me. I recalled how she had given Jon those hungry female predatory looks. Was she after him? I was starting to see red. Carol after Nick. Jamie after Jon. Over my dead body!
    "What did she say?" I asked.
    "Just that the body had been there for about eighty years. And she'd keep us posted as she learned more."
    Us? Or Jon? I wondered.
    Melanie glanced at her watch. "Listen guys, the police notified the Bittermans about the shooting in their house so Bunny and Clay have flown back from Palm Beach. They want to meet us for dinner at Blue Water. I told them we'd join them. And Brie and her manager will be there too. They want to talk to me about what happened.
    "And I want you guys to be with me. It's hard enough to rehash finding Joey like that, I don't want to be alone with them. It's all bad news, especially for me, but Bunny and Clay will have a hard time selling that house now, and I expect they want to tell me they are giving the listing to someone else. I can't say I blame them."
    Cam put his arms around her. "Rest that pretty head right here, darling. Don't you worry. This will all blow over soon. The police will catch the real killer, and everything will go back to normal."
    Melanie gave me a look over Cam's shoulder. Things will never be normal for Joey Fielding, her look said.

9

    Darkness had settled in by the time we tied up at the Wrightsville Marina and strolled along the boardwalk to the Blue Water Restaurant. Temperatures that had been in the high eighties during the afternoon had fallen to the mid-seventies, warm enough for outdoor dining even in shorts. The waterway gets incredibly dark at night. The trees were black silhouettes against an aquamarine sky streaked with pink wispy clouds. The water looked inky and opaque, like another world. Like if you dropped into it you'd be gone for good.
    I watched my footing.
    From the deck we had a clear view of Joey's Place, closed now, locked up tight and totally dark. I wondered what would happen to it.
    Palm trees grew on the deck under yellow canvas awnings that were trimmed with rope lights. There were pots of hibiscuses fully blooming with bright red flowers.
    The Bittermans were already seated at a large table on the lower deck and Bunny waved when she saw us. Clay stood up.
    We all said hello, Jon and Cam were introduced by Melanie. Brie was silent and sullen, her long hair sheltering most of her face , concealing her identify from other dinner guests. She had on a cropped tank top and wore rings on all her fingers. She looked like any other teenage girl to me, not a mega-star of pop culture.
    The man with her, about thirty-five and incredibly homely, stuck out his hand. "Al Shariff ," he said. "I'm Brie's manager.
    Cam said, "Ali, long time no see ." To us, he said, "I know Ali from my HBO days."
    Al had thick black hair that stood on end, shaggy brows, hooded piercing black eyes, and stubble on his chin. Swarthy. Middle Eastern.
    Bunny Bitterman was in her fifties, petite with very short white-blonde hair, nervous and fidgety and seemed uncomfortable. Clay Bitterman was a big guy who looked like he had downed too many beers and they had all settled in the spare tire around his middle. He had pale hair and watery eyes and a florid complexion. He looked like a bad insurance risk.
    "You remember Ashley, don't you?" Melanie asked.
    "Yes, of course," Bunny said. "You came with Melanie to our political fund raiser." For no apparent reason she giggled. Must be nerves, I figured.
    The waiter came up to our table to take our drink orders. The Bitterman crowd had started without us and were ahead in the game. I asked for white wine, and Jon and Cam went for gin and tonics. Melanie, aware that the discussion was going to turn to business, ordered iced tea.
    "We thought it would be best if we met somewhere public," Bunny began.
    Clay picked up her sentence. "Best not to ask you to the house because of this . . . this mess we find ourselves in."
    I could sense what was coming.
    For a moment there was an unpleasant silence as the Bittermans didn't seem to know where to go from there.
    At the next table, a woman ignored her dinner companions to talk on her cell phone. "I thought we'd do something different this year," she said loudly. Why do people