Murder at the Bellamy Mansion (16 page)

“
That’s an excellent idea,” I said. I kissed his chin. “You’re so smart.”

He beamed at me, lapping up the praise.

There was a good Saturday night crowd at Meymandi Hall. And it was fun to listen to the Pops orchestra play a medley from Motown. After an intermission, the two Pointer Sisters, Ruth and Anita, and Ruth’s daughter Issa danced out onto the stage.

“
Talk about high energy,” I said to Jon. “How do they do it? They must be close to sixty.” Except for Issa, whom Ruth told us proudly was carrying her granddaughter. She rubbed Issa’s belly.

Any discussions of babies made me sad. But quickly the performers’ lively tunes and dances lifted me back up. They sang, “He’s so shy.” And “I’m so excited.” Some of the audience left their seats and danced in the aisles.

Jon and I moved out into the side aisle, and danced too. I just watched the Pointers dance and did what they did. It was impossible not to move with all that wonderful music filling the hall. I simply could not hold my body still.

Finally, at the end, they sang “Jump” and they jumped and jumped. And so did Jon and I.

I felt invigorated when at last the concert was over.

“
That was so much fun,” I said as we hurried across the street to the parking lot.

Back in our room, Jon called Room Service and told them we were ready for the supper he had ordered earlier. Soon we had two entrees to share: Ricotta Gnocchi with enoki mushrooms and Shrimp and Grits. Plus a bottle of rich red wine.

We fell asleep in each other’s arms and slept late on Sunday. There was a coffee brewer in our room and we made coffee, put on thick white terry bathrobes and went out onto the furnished balcony. The balcony caught the morning sun and the day was mild. There was a three-acre lake to admire, and trees, and wildlife. “This is perfect,” I said.

Later, we went down for Sunday brunch at Herons Restaurant.

I looked over the menu. “I can’t decide. Listen to this, Jon. Malted bourbon waffle with warm maple syrup, Georgia pecan butter and vine ripened berries. Or, buttermilk pancakes with candied Georgia pecans and blueberry syrup. Forget about dieting. I’d like to have both.”

“
I’m going for eggs, hash browns, and bacon,” Jon said.

“
Bacon and eggs? That’s so every day.”

He shrugged. “That’s what I want. I don’t get tempted by all that sugary stuff the way you do.”

I lifted one shoulder. “How do you think I stay so sweet?”

“
Ha!” Jon gasped. “Ashley, you are not easy. You keep a guy on his toes. Every minute. You are the feistiest woman I have ever met.”

“
Is that right?” I said, not entirely sure if I was pleased.

“
Yes. You’re feisty and demanding of yourself. And you demand the best of me. And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

I smiled. “In that case, I guess I could use some sweetening up.” I looked up just as the waiter approached. “I’ll have the bourbon waffle,” I told him. And then to prove that I could be sweet, I said, “And my darling husband will have the eggs and bacon.” Then I added, "Please.”

20

“
Good afternoon, ladies. Please do come in. Guy, the butler, will be serving tea in the formal parlor.”

Ladies? What ladies? And ‘good afternoon’? It was not yet nine o’clock. Who was that speaking? And who could she possibly be speaking to?

I had just entered the rear door of the mansion, which Jon had left propped open because we had our hands full of supplies that we were carrying up to the belvedere. After that, we’d be driving out to Willie’s shop to begin work on the windows. I was not aware that anyone else was inside the house, although there were a few cars in the parking lot. I had just assumed some of the staff had come in early and were working in the offices over the gift shop.

A woman’s voice was coming from the front of the house. I moved through the hall to see a woman at the front door, holding the door open, and talking to herself.

No, she was talking to someone who was not there. And she seemed to be curtsying. A charade? A charade with only one actor? Practicing for a play?

I coughed. And Kimberly whirled around. Her hand flew to her mouth as her face reddened with embarrassment.

“
Ashley! Hi. I was . . . I was . . .” She could not finish her sentence.

She was play acting, was what she had been doing. She was pretending to be greeting a group of ladies who had been invited to tea. How strange.

“
You’re here early,” I said, trying to sound bright and chipper, and not at all puzzled. As if people carrying on solitary conversations did not faze me.

“
Yeah, uh . . .”

Kimberly was a country girl, as rough as a cob. She wore the same outfit she’d had on the day we met: jeans, a logo T shirt that must have been a freebee, a shabby denim jacket, faded from washing.

Finally she got her wits about her and blurted, “We’re caterin’ lunch for a garden club today, and Elaine asked me to make sure the dinin’ room was readied. To set things up.”

Garden clubs frequently met at the mansion.

“
They’re havin’ a meetin’ and we’re servin’ the lunch,” Kimberly said. In her discomposure, she was dropping g’s from her words, something she had not done the last time we spoke. She was a university graduate, and during our last conversation her sentences had been correctly and well spoken.

I wanted to put her at ease. So she likes to pretend she’s the chatelaine of a mansion. I could understand that. I’d almost found myself doing the same thing, imagining what life had been like in that era, with servants and plenty of money.

“
Well, good luck with the luncheon,” I said. “We’ll be at work upstairs. Give my best to Elaine.”

“
I’ll tell her you said ‘hey’,” Kimberly said, seemingly relieved that I had not questioned her about her charade. “Elaine and Celeste will be here soon in the van with the sandwiches and the cake. So I’d best skedaddle on down to the dining room.”

Skedaddle? I started up the stairs, my arms loaded. People would never cease to amaze me.

The third floor was gloomier than ever. We had hooked up work lights in the observatory but with the windows there covered with plywood, less light than usual seeped down to the third floor.

I was startled to suddenly come upon a man standing at one of the interior windows that looked into a bedroom. He had his back to me, his face pressed to the glass, his hands bracketing his face to block out any reflection.

“
What are you doing?” I asked.

He turned sharply. Even in the dim light, I recognized him. He was about forty, tall and gaunt, with straight black hair that fell in his face. He wore a large shirt hanging loose over his pants, which were baggy threadbare khakis. This was the man who had crashed the filming on Thursday with a camera and flash attachment. The man who had snapped photos of us as we filmed, and who had been hustled out of the mansion by Cam’s security officer.

“
I’ve seen you before,” I said. “Who are you? And what are you doing here?”

His chin jerked up. “I have every right to be here. I work for the rental company that supplies this place with party equipment. I’ve been in and out of this house a hundred times. And I can come and go as I please.”

I could hear Jon banging around in the belvedere. Should I shout to him that we had a trespasser?

“
Come and go as you please?” I said. “I think not. Only the staff and the volunteers can come and go as they please. There’s no rental equipment truck outside. You’re not here to pick up or deliver equipment. You’re trespassing.”

“
Oh, don’t go getting on your high horse with me. And who are you anyway? Just some sort of carpenter who calls herself a historic preservationist. Hoity toity. As for getting inside, the back door was wide open.

“
And I’m not doing any harm. Just taking a look around.”

“
What are you looking for?” I asked.

He shrugged, then pulled himself up straighter. “Nothing. Just looking at the antiques. I like old furniture.”

“
Does the staff know you come and go as you please?” I asked.

He did not reply but gave me a narrow eyed look. Then he lumbered toward me in a menacing sort of way, and I backed away toward the stairs to the belvedere.

“
Jon!” I shouted.

But with the noise he was making overhead, Jon did not hear me.

“
Don’t you go making trouble for me, girlie,” the man said. “Like I said, I wasn’t doing no harm. I’m leaving now and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget you ever saw me.” Quickly, he retreated down the stairs.

What had he been doing here? He said he liked antique furniture. Did he think he could carry out one of the antiques?

As I hurried up the stairs, I remembered a piece of information Willie had related. On the morning that he’d been shot, the rental equipment people had been here in the mansion. He had encountered one of them nosing around like this man had been. Was he the same man? And had he played a role in Willie’s shooting?

I hurried up the stairs to Jon, dropped the supplies on the floor, and started to shiver. Jon took one look at me and reached out to take me in his arms.

After I told him what had happened, he rushed down the stairs to look for the man. “He was gone,” he said when he returned. “I locked the door. The mansion is closed to tours on Monday so there is no reason for the doors to be open. I know the owner of the rental company. I’m calling him. I’m getting that man fired!”

On Tuesday I left Willie’s shop early to go home and change into a nice outfit, red light-weight wool pants and a red cashmere V-neck sweater. I was meeting Melanie for lunch and she can get mighty uppity about being seen with me in public in what she refers to as my “construction wear chic” clothing.

“
Cam’s at the studio. He’s feeling much better.” Melanie’s voice came from behind Elijah’s menu.

She snapped it shut and laid it back on the umbrella table. “Men are such babies when they’re sick. And I’ve been as twitchy as a cat on a porch full of rockers to get out of that house and back to work. So I spent the morning at Wrightsville Beach, looking at properties for Scarlett and Ray. I declare, those two are just letting me run their lives.”

“
Did you find a house for them?” I asked. “Can you believe this weather? Here it is the middle of January and we’re having temps in the seventies.”

Riverwalk was busy with strollers. People had literally spilled out of their houses for a walk in the sunshine. Plus, the balmy warm weather had tempted day-trippers to the coast. Business would be brisk today, and that was surely a boon, for in these hard economic times, the tourist business, upon which Wilmington and all of North Carolina was so dependent, had been lagging.

“
Global warming,” Melanie said referring to our summery temps.

The waiter approached. “I’ll have unsweetened iced tea,” I told him, then read from the menu, “and for lunch, I’ll have . . .”

“
We’re not ready to order lunch just yet,” Melanie interrupted. “We’re expecting two others. We’ll wait for them.”

“
We are?” I asked.

“
Unsweetened tea for me too,” Melanie told our waiter.

“
Just let me know when you’re ready to order,” he said, then departed.

I grinned at Melanie. “The service here is always so good.”

“
Uhmmm,” she said, “Now, as I was about to say, we are being joined by Aunt Ruby in a little bit, and then that dreadful Vanessa Holder. I need you all to be with me when I confront her. But first, I asked you to meet me early because I want to discuss something with you privately.”

“
You didn’t tell me they were coming.”

“
I did say we were going to discuss the wedding plans,” Melanie said. “Didn’t I?”

“
Well, yes, but . . .”

She raised one eyebrow, impatient with me. “So how could we talk about the wedding without the wedding planner and without Aunt Ruby who has participated in all the decisions?”

“
You sure are cranky, Melanie,” I said.

“
Well, wouldn’t you be if you were me? Business is just appalling. I’ve been selling real estate for twelve years and I’ve never seen anything this bad. Plus, I’ve got most of my money tied up in properties that have depreciated so badly they are worth half as much as I paid. And the undeveloped land I’m invested in – well, who knows when I’ll be able to develop that.”

“
But, Melanie, surely the value will come back.”

“
That’s what Faye Brock says. Let’s hope you both are right.”

“
Besides, Cam’s got plenty of money,” I said, thinking I was comforting her.

“
I cannot believe you said that, Ashley Wilkes. It’s more than money. Being successful in real estate is part of who I am. That is my identity. Year after year, I’ve been voted Wilmington’s top realtor. They used to say I was so good I could sell ice cubes to Eskimos. Now – well, now I’d count myself lucky to make one sale – just one.”

“
You will sell one. You’ll find the perfect house for Scarlett and Ray, and they will buy it. And they’ll come for weekends and holidays, and we’ll all be together – one big, happy family. We’ll have so much fun.”