Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW

and to possibly let his killer in as well. He didn't know Melanie would be coming home early."
    "And so he was meeting someone here," Cam finished.
    "And that someone killed him," I said. "Then tried to pin the blame on Melanie. If only Spunky could speak. He knows."
    I turned to go back into the kitchen for the cat carrier. "Will you guys get her luggage and her computer," I asked.
    I had forgotten to check for the paperweight. "It's gone," I said, "the paperweight is gone. The ER doc must have told the police her theory and they took it to do their luminal testing."
    Jon said, "Even if the killer washed it, blood traces will still show up under a lumalight . You can't wash blood away."

21

    "None of them have an alibi that will hold up in court," Walter Brice, Melanie's defense attorney, declared.
    We were gathered in my flower-filled library late on Monday afternoon. Cameron Jordan had bought out every florist in town and had the flowers delivered to Melanie's hospital room that morning. When she was discharged later that afternoon, we had settled her in the backseat of Jon's Escalade for the drive to my house. Cam drove a small sports car which was not very practical for transporting the convalescent Melanie and every floral arrangement in the city of Wilmington. The flowers had occupied every spare inch of my van. The interior would smell like flowers for days to come.
    Now Melanie was tucked under a cozy afghan on my roomy leather sofa, the pain in her head vanquished by powerful meds that made her drowsy. Spunky slept at her feet, the effects of his recent trauma apparently nullified by the reappearance of the love of his life. We lesser mortals -- Walt, Cam, Jon, and I -- were having drinks as Walt reported his private investigator's findings.
    "Our investigator flew to Palm Beach to verify the Bittermans ' alibi that they had spent that day together in their condo as they told the police. Apparently our police department doesn't have the budget to fly an officer to Florida to check an alibi. Well," he drawled, tenting his fingertips, "it seems a neighbor saw Mr. and Mrs. Bitterman drive off early the morning of November third. Mrs. Bitterman was behind the wheel. When she returned home less than an hour later she was alone. Where would we get our leads were it not for bored, nosy neighbors?"
    Walt was in his mid-fifties, large and powerful looking with a take-charge personality, and balding. He had shaved his head clean, opting for the current power look among executives.
    "According to the neighbor, Mr. Bitterman did not return until the next day. Mrs. Bitterman remained in the condo while he was gone."
    "Wonder why they lied? What are they hiding?" I asked.
    "What about Brie?" Melanie murmured. "Ashley, the light hurts my eyes. Will you snap that lamp off, please, shug ."
    "Are you sure you don't want me to put you to bed, sweetheart?" Cam asked.
    "I'm going to try to stay awake a little bit longer," she said and smiled faintly. "I want to hear Walt's news."
    She had dark circles under her eyes, her unwashed hair was stringy, and there was a bandage taped to the crown of her head like a yarmulke, still by the adoring looks Cam cast her way, in his eyes she was as ravishing as ever.
    "Ah yes, Brie," Walt said. "Now this is very interesting. Brie claims she was in a meeting in Charlotte on the day Joey was killed, but she won't say who she was meeting with. She refused to tell the cops, and since their position is that she is not a suspect, they are letting the matter go. For now."
    "What do you want to bet that Clay was with her that day. That he flew to Charlotte to attend this mysterious meeting," Jon speculated.
    "But why? Why would he attend and why would he refuse to tell the police about it?" I asked.
    Walt waited patiently for us to get it.
    "Wait a minute," I almost shouted, "Brie is underage. She would not be able to sign contracts. She'd need her father to sign for her. That's it, isn't it?" I asked Walt.
    He grinned. "That's what we think."
    "But why make a mystery of it? And what about Ali Shariff ? Did he attend this meeting?" Jon asked.
    Cam sipped his drink and kept an eye on Melanie who was nodding off. "I'm taking her to her room," he said. He was tall and rangy and apparently stronger than he looked for he lifted Melanie easily from the sofa and carried her toward the stairs.
    She awakened. "What?" she murmured.
    I heard Cam say suggestively, "I'm taking you to bed, sweetheart." Followed