Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW

agents?" I wondered.
    "We don't know that they haven't, Ashley. We only know what Scott Randolph told us about the corpse we found on the Boleyn estate. We know nothing about his official reason for being in Wilmington or about the case he's investigating."
    "No, we don't," I said thoughtfully. "Let's have the investigator check on him too. Verify his credentials."
    I felt a bump as the landing gear was lowered. And the captain came on the intercom to announce that we were approaching New York.
    Then it hit me. "You know, Jon, there's a flaw in our reasoning."
    "There is?"
    "We've been listing all the people who had access to the Bitterman house, but Joey Fielding had a key so he could have let anyone in. He could have arranged to meet someone there, knowing that the house was empty. Maybe someone he did not want to be seen with. So that broadens our scope, doesn't it?"
    "Sure does. Broadens it to just about everyone in Wilmington!"

18

    "I'm glad your back, shug , I missed you," Melanie told me from the phone in her office where I'd located her at eleven on Sunday morning. "Did you have a good time?"
    "Wonderful," I breathed. "Jon and I would like to see you this evening. We have something to tell you," I sang.
    "And I know what it is," she sang back.
    "We thought we'd like Cam to be there, too. We like him a lot, Mel, and think of him as a friend." Actually, Jon had him lined up to be our best man. And Melanie, of course, would be my maid of honor. When the time came. A year from now. A Christmas wedding, we had decided on the drive from the airport to my house last night. Jon had not stayed. We were both exhausted and needed a good night's rest.
    Also we had decided we'd better behave discreetly on home turf because we had our reputations to think of -- personal as well as professional.
    Sunday was Melanie's busiest day but I hoped she'd make time for us. Our good news was too important to delay.
    "Sure, I'll call Cam. I'm sure he'd love to come. I'm supposed to show a house at five and sometimes those showings run late, especially if the buyer is interested. And this is the second time she's seeing it so she is interested. I'll move the appointment up to this afternoon, and we'll all meet at my house at six for cocktails and dinner. How's that?"
    "You're the best, big sis. Melanie? How have things been going here? Are the police still harassing you?"
    "Actually, things have been going surprisingly well. My lawyer, Walt Brice, is running interference with the police and the D.A. And my regular clients are being amazingly supportive. Remember dear Mae Mae Mackie and Lucy Lou Upchurch? Well, those old dears are selling their lovely French provincial home out on the waterway and they just gave me the listing. Then they want me to find them something in an over 55 community. I just love those two darlings.
    "And other society folk are coming 'round too. Solidarity, that's what I'm getting. I just love Wilmington." Then her tone changed to anger and she lashed out, "But I'm still going to sue someone when this is all over and those idiot police clear me!"
    "What can I bring for dinner?" I asked, wanting to get her mood back on the upswing.
    "Not a thing. I'll call the Bridge Tender and have them prepare something and I'll pick it up on my way home. How about that wonderful crab dip they make with garlic toast for an appetizer? And their tuna steak with horseradish is to die for. And I've got a good supply of white wine in the wine cooler."
    "A feast," I said. "This will be fun."
    "And Ashley, if I'm late, just let yourself in and set the table for me and uncork the wine, will you, shug ? I'll be there by six."
    "Of course. Love you, big sis."
    "Back at you, little sis."

    At five thirty it was already dark. I drove out Oleander to Greenville Loop Road, then on to Melanie's house on Sandpiper Cove.
    My headlights picked out the opening in the fence and I maneuvered my Avalon down her sloping, sandy driveway. Melanie's garage door was shut so I didn't know if she had beaten me home or not. Light shone diffusely from the windows in the master bedroom where I knew she left a lamp on for Spunky. I took my purse and stepped carefully down illuminated shallow steps to Melanie's small front porch. Pressing the doorbell, I heard soft chimes play inside. I waited but she didn't come. Maybe she's in the shower, I thought. I'd give her a minute; I didn't want to go barging in on her. Jon and Cam were due at six.
    While I waited I