Murder at the Bellamy Mansion (10 page)

“
My folks have been through enough,” he said. “I’ll be just fine and I don’t want to cause any more worries for my family. No more bad news, and scaring my poor mother half to death.”

And the doctors agreed that he was uninjured. Just some bumps and bruises. Jon and I drove him home where he promised to stay put with his feet up for a day or two.

In the evening Jon and I walked down Nun Street to the riverfront for a casual dinner at Le Catalan, a really neat wine bar. The breeze off the river was nippy, and daylight had faded an hour earlier. But we strolled hand-in-hand and when we reached the riverfront, we both felt invigorated from the exercise. And hungry.

The café’s décor had a theme: wine bottle corks. Wine bottle corks served as the crown molding, chair rail, and delineated architectural features. Just inside the front door, a darling little man made of wine corks sat in a chair, greeting guests with his adorable painted smile, and proudly sporting a white chef’s hat.

For dinner, we ordered my favorite, Le Catalan’s specialty for a wintry evening, Beef Bourgignon with a bottle of good French red wine. The service here was always excellent, plus warm and friendly. In the spring we would sit outside on the boardwalk, and I longed for warm weather.

At first we had talked about the changes we were going to make to my house – now our in-town house – to accommodate us as a couple. We were avoiding the topic of Lonnie’s fall down the stairs and the booby trap that had been set for him. Or for one of us. Then Jon sprang his declaration that Nick was still in love with me.

Jon topped off my wineglass and I took a sip. “My love for Nick was a shallow thing compared to my love for you,” I said softly. “He gave me a quarter of himself. You give me all of yourself. You put our life together first. Before work, friends, everything. And that is what I need and what I want to give in return. So let’s just forget about Nick, except to pity him.”

“
I do pity him,” Jon said. “But I’m afraid that we’re going to be involved with him for as long as this investigation goes on.”

“
Do you really think that he has the power to shut down the museum and our restoration project?” I asked.

“
I seriously doubt the mayor would let him. Everyone knows how important the Bellamy Mansion Museum is to the tourist economy. About all they can do is beef up security,” Jon responded.

“
I think you’re right. You know the saying ‘No good deed goes unpunished.’ That is about how I feel right now. We try to do the right thing and volunteer our expertise and services to restore the belvedere, and what happens? A good friend gets shot, and the railing is jimmied so someone will fall. What else is going to happen? And why?”

I pushed my plate away, no longer hungry. Nick was right about one thing. That could have been me who fell down those stairs. Or Jon. Or the caretaker. Or one of the staff. Or a volunteer. And they could have been seriously injured.

“
Could any of this have to do with the Chengs?” I asked. “They are dead set on buying the mansion. Could this be some ploy to scare everyone off? To create so much bad publicity for the Bellamy, causing it to be so unappealing as a museum, that Preservation NC would jump at the chance to sell it?”

“
That thought occurred to me too,” Jon said. “But I just can’t imagine anyone being so desperate to buy a house, they’d be willing to kill for it.”

I leaned forward and lowered my voice. A couple was seated just two tables away. We four were the only patrons in the restaurant on a slow Monday evening. And in the quiet, conversations carried. “But what do we know about them? Nothing. They’re filthy rich. We know they don’t give a darn about the environment or about God’s creatures. In my experience, people that rich have rarely acquired their wealth through ethical means. Oh, of course, there are exceptions. Bill Gates for instance. But that Candi is a piece of work. Self-centered and arrogant. She can’t see any further than her own nose and her own wants and wishes. And Han acts like winning is the only thing that matters to him.”

“
Han is very caught up in success,” Jon agreed. “I’m not sure what he’s doing here or exactly how he is involved with the new port deal, but he is determined that the deal go through. He’s got that fleet of container ships that require a deeper port.”

“
I’ll bet he’s here to do some arm twisting,” I speculated. “And he’s got plenty of money to grease the wheels of progress.”

“
Let’s change the subject and talk about something sweet,” Jon said with a smile, and signaled the waitress that he was ready for the dessert menu.

“
Don’t tempt me,” I said, and meant it.

“
OK, I’ll skip dessert so you won’t be tempted.” And he set the dessert menu off to the side.

“
I’ve gained another pound,” I said. “And I feel like I’m starving myself. I’m as irritable as a bear.”

Jon paid the check and stood up. The other couple were pulling on coats and leaving as well. “OK, mama bear, how about a short walk on the boardwalk, then we’ll head home. I have the perfect cure for your irritability.” He helped me with my coat and said into my ear, “Guaranteed to make you purr.”

I buttoned my winter coat and gave him a wink. “Come on, let’s go look at the stars.”

We left the wine bar by the river side exit. Outside the night was clear and crisp. We walked north on Riverwalk along the swiftly flowing Cape Fear River. The moon sparkled on the water. The stars were out and only a few people strolled the boardwalk.

“
This is very romantic,” I said as I reached inside his coat to wrap my arms around his waist and snuggle his warm body. He kissed me. Gently at first, then urgently until he took my breath away. I felt overwhelmed by my sudden need for him.

“
I’ve never been happier, Jon. Even with the scary things happening at the mansion, I’m still happy.”

“
Me too, Ashley. A short walk and then home to bed. The best part of the day is that when it ends, we go home together.”

We walked as far as Riverfront Park, then turned around and retraced our steps. “I love our town when it is quiet like this. I know we need the tourists, but I’m selfish. I like having the river, this boardwalk, the entire downtown, all to ourselves.”

He hugged me around the shoulders. “And I love having you all to myself.”

Then he went on, seriously now. “You know, Ashley, I’ve been thinking about what you asked: could the Chengs be behind these attempted murders. And I have to say, I can’t rule them out. I’ve never had any business dealings with Brian Hudson either. I only know him as a party animal. I wonder how ethical he is. Could all that folderol about foreclosure based on some ancient bank note be a scam to coerce Preservation NC into selling the Bellamy?”

“
I’ve wondered that myself,” I said. “Until I see those documents with my own eyes, I won’t believe his story.”

We exited Riverwalk and started up the hill at Nun Street. The enormous ballast wall rose to our right. “But if he takes a lien, wouldn’t he have to produce the original bank notes?” I wondered out loud.

“
Seems that way to me too,” Jon replied. “Who knows that they didn’t cook up some forgeries?”

At the top of the hill stood the Governor Dudley house, facing Front Street. We paused at the corner, looked both ways beyond the parked cars and started across. From out of nowhere, car headlights caught us in their glare. The car bore down on us, swiftly, aiming straight for us with no attempt to stop.

The lights shone brightly on us in the middle of the street. The driver had to see us. But he sped onward toward us, accelerating and closing the distance. If anything, the car was moving faster.

Jon grabbed my arm and we sprinted to the far side of the street. He was shouting obscenities at a driver we could not see in the darkness, propelling me with one arm, shaking his fist at the driver with the other. I have never heard him swear like that or seen him so furious.

At the curb, I lost my footing and fell onto my knees. Jon lifted me to my feet. “Ashley, sweetheart, are you all right? That idiot! He could have hit us.”

Then I saw Jon’s face in the streetlight. And I saw how fear contorted his handsome features. “That was deliberate,” he said.

13

“
My slacks are heavy and protected my knees,” I said. “Still they don’t feel too steady.”

“
Aunt Ruby is only a block away. She’s a nurse. We’ll go there.” And he swept me up into his arms and carried me like I was a baby.

Aunt Ruby took one look at us through the glass storm door and instantly let us in. “What happened?” she asked. “Bring her back to the parlor, Jon.” She called out, “Benjamin, would you fetch my first aid kit, please, dear.”

She led the way down the narrow hallway to the parlor at the rear of their cozy little bungalow. “Put her on the sofa, Jon. Ashley dear, can you get your coat off?”

“
I fell on my knees, Aunt Ruby. My arms are fine.” And I shrugged off my coat.

“
Let’s take a look,” Aunt Ruby said, while turning on extra lamps. “Slide your slacks up, dear.” And I did. A worried Binkie and Jon peered over her shoulder.

“
Your knees are red. They will probably bruise. But I don’t see any scrapes. I’m going to feel around a bit. Holler if something hurts.”

But nothing did hurt as she gently prodded my knees and shins. “Just tender,” I said. “I’ll be all right.”

“
Stay put for a while. I’ve got some cold packs in the freezer. We’ll apply those to reduce any swelling.”

Binkie brought the cold packs and Aunt Ruby had me stretch out my legs so that she could apply them to my knees.

“
Feels good,” I said.

“
Benjamin, why don’t you break out the sherry,” Aunt Ruby asked. She is the only person who called Binkie by his given name. While he assembled sherry glasses on a tray, and removed the decanter stopper, Aunt Ruby urged, “Now tell us what happened. Surely you were not up in that belvedere at this hour.”

“
Oh no. I tripped on the curb, is all. I’m just a klutz,” I said. “Tripped over my own big feet.”

I gave Jon a warning look, but that was not necessary. He knew better than to tell them about two accidents in one day, or that Lonnie and I were both banged up.

As we sipped our sherry, Jon raised the subject of Brian Hudson’s claim that there were outstanding debts owed by Preservation NC on behalf of the Bellamy Mansion. “Do you think this is true, Binkie? Could there have been debts that were never paid?”

Binkie settled gracefully into his favorite chair, a chintz-covered arm chair that had not changed since his mother had brought it into this room decades ago. “Anything is possible, Jon. Those were complex times. The Confederate government was collecting monies owed to Northern merchants, and then when the South lost the war, the merchants sued and debtors had to pay again. I presume you have heard that Dr. Bellamy was obligated to pay twice for those colossal Corinthian columns that surround three sides of the mansion. The sequestrian officer here in Wilmington, DuBrutz Cutlar, condemned that debt and Dr. Bellamy was forced to pay the outstanding sum to the Confederate government. Then after the war, the firm of Jenkins & Porter in New York sued Dr. Bellamy, and he was required to again pay the sum of about sixteen hundred dollars for the columns.”

Jon said, “Ashley and I are watching Ken Burns’ documentary on the Civil War. We’re trying to refresh our memories about the details of that tragic war, when not only the nation, but even families were divided. Four million men fought in that war; six hundred thousand of them died. It was a calamity.”

“
Daddy used to always say that slavery was a great evil,” I said.

“
Wilmington got off easy compared to some towns,” Binkie said. “And the gold that poured through this town! The war caused inflation, so goods and services were ‘dear’ as they used to say.”

“
How much did it cost Dr. Bellamy to build his mansion?” Jon asked.

Binkie got up to refill our small sherry glasses. When he had settled back in his chair, he responded, “We don’t know for sure, Jon. Not all of the records are available. Some quote a figure of twenty-one thousand dollars. But Dr. Bellamy’s son, John D. Bellamy, Jr., told the newspaper that the construction costs exceeded fifty thousand dollars. That would be based on the pre-war economy. Inflation ran rampant during the war years. Thus, the house would have been valued at considerably higher in only a few years. Consider this, Jon, the Confederacy levied a War Tax on the house that amounted to about twenty-two thousand dollars. So if the construction bill was a mere twenty-one thousand, he paid more in taxes than it cost to build the house.”

“
Brian Hudson told us that the unpaid banknote plus interest, penalties, and legal fees will amount to approximately seventy-five thousand dollars. Do you think that is possible?”

Binkie stroked his chin. “From what I’ve learned about this bank bailout - the TARP as they are calling it - what Brian says seems correct. Those banks that cannot collect on their bad debts may be impossible to save, thus permitted to fail. Those that can collect may be entitled to loans from the government to tide them over.”

“
We’ve both been trying to understand the economic straits the country finds itself in,” Aunt Ruby said. “The banks are downsizing personnel in order to reduce overhead, so it may be true that they are outsourcing the collection process. That part of Brian’s scenario seems plausible.”