Wilmington, NC 05 - Murder On The ICW

answers to those questions yet, Ashley. And I won't know what the cops know until we get to the discovery phase of this case, which may be some time from now. The D.A.'s office is going after this one with a sledge hammer. They want to nail Melanie. But so far all they've got is sloppy investigative work."
    "Fielding's killer may have come on the boat with him," Jon said, "so it's important that your P.I. talk to everyone in the Point Place area."
    Walt made a note on his legal pad, then said, "We can't find a thing about Scott Randolph. Don't know if he is a legitimate agent or what. I've got contacts in the local FBI offices and they usually have a pretty good idea about what is going on. They never heard of him, and don't know anything about an ATF investigation going on here."
    "Could he be undercover?" Jon asked.
    Walt shook his head. "I don't know. As of now we don't have a clue. But I'll keep on it."
    Jon said, "I have to ask this. Does Shariff have ties to any of the extremist Muslim groups? Could he be the target of a secret ATF investigation?"
    Walt replied thoughtfully, "We'll keep working on this one. We're still nosing around. It's still early in the game."
    "I hope Dr. McAllister is having better luck with her mystery than we are with ours," I said.

22

    "Believe me, Ashley, I have my priorities straight," Cameron Jordan told me the next morning. "We could all be blown away by terrorists tomorrow or die of the bird flu next year."
    "How true," I responded.
    He continued explaining his arrival at my front door at seven a.m. "I'm in love with that lady upstairs, have been since the first time I laid eyes on her. So I'm here because I want to take care of her. So scoot! Go on to work. I know they need you out at the Boleyn estate."
    "You're a great guy, Cam. But who's going to run Gem Star Studios if you're here playing nursemaid to Melanie?" I asked.
    "Oh, I can handle that from here," he said breezily. "That is if you don't mind my setting up in your library. I'll get some teckies out here from the studio with a communication system. Then I can do live teleconferencing with my staff when a decision has to be made. Okay with you?"
    "Sure, make yourself at home, Cam," I said, marveling at how technology was simplifying our lives. "Now, I've stocked the fridge with food that will be easy for her to eat. Her meds are in her room. But by this time, she's going to be chomping at the bit, starting to feel pretty restless that she can't get up and go. You know Melanie, she's got only one speed, and that's fast. Still, she's got to give her head time to heal."
    Cam laughed. "I know, I know, Ashley. Go on. Get out of here. I'll confiscate her cell phone if that's what it takes to prevent her from wheeling and dealing from her sick bed. And if she gets a glimpse of my communication system she'll figure out a way to show houses from your library." Cam hooted. "She's a pistol. But that's my girl."

    I went out the door wondering if Melanie was indeed his girl. I sure hoped so. He was the best thing for her -- the best man to come into her life in years -- yet she had still managed to get involved with guys like Mickey Ballantine and Joey Fielding. What was with her? And was I any better? Had we inherited self-destruct genes or what?
    Mama had always been fey but sweet, other worldly and retiring. But even Mama had had the good sense to select a fine man and stick with him. My mother and father had been madly in love. It was obvious to anyone who saw them together. Still Mama did go off the deep end on a regular basis when she got bitten by the green-eyed monster.
    I drove to the Boleyn estate feeling guilt free. Melanie was in good hands. It was now mid-November and the weather was cooling down to what passes for fall here on the coast, red leaves dropping into raggedy heaps under dogwood trees. As I pulled into the driveway off of Airlie Road, I caught sight of the hunting lodge. Crenellated tower, low pitched roof, wide eaves -- all crumbling. I'd been driving past this site all of my life. There was something romantic and fairytale-like about the lodge's tower poking above the tree line, like the battlement of some medieval castle. You'd expect it to have a moat.
    Two large branches had fallen from a live oak tree and lay at the side of the narrow lane. I wondered if there had been a storm while I was in Italy and assumed that Willie had dragged them off of the roadway.
    Jon's Escalade parked in the high grass