Murder at the Bellamy Mansion (19 page)

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Authors: Ellen Elizabeth Hunter

BOOK: Murder at the Bellamy Mansion
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We looked into each others’ eyes and shared a private moment. It was if the house and all the people in it had disappeared and we were alone.


OK, you two, cut that out!” Melanie fussed, but was smiling. She was as happy for me as I was for her.

Jackie joined us. She was fuming. “The nerve of him. I can’t believe he is here at my party.”

Jon eyed me. Uh oh. We did not want to get trapped in the middle of a marital squabble. This was supposed to be a night of fun with friends.

To my astonishment, when Cam and Brian finished their conversation, Brian returned to our group. He gave Jackie a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Good turnout, babe.”

Jackie pulled back. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Brian grinned. Was he that insensitive? Here he was trying to hide money from her, but acting like they were the best of friends. Or was he just rubbing it in? Hoping to make her mad and thus spoil her success with the turnout. “Would I miss a party thrown by my favorite environmentalist?”


Are you still representing the Chengs?” Jackie asked.


Sure,” he replied. “Would I cut off my nose to spite my face?”


Anyone who is a friend of theirs is not a friend of the environment,” Jackie declared vehemently.

Brian turned to me. “Hey, Ashley, think we’ll all get mowed down by a mad gunman tonight?” He laughed heartily.

What was wrong with him? He used to be a nice guy.


That is not funny,” Jon said angrily. “Your Uncle Willie could have been killed.”

Cam moved closer to Melanie in a protective manner. They were staring, speechless.


Uncle Willie! That man won’t give me the time of day,” Brian said sourly.

I was incensed. “Plenty of people won’t give me the time of day. Doesn’t mean I wish for them to be shot.”

That must have gotten through to Brian. “I didn’t mean for it to sound like that. Sorry. Gallows humor. Since the word is out that the Carolina Apartments is locked up tight, people feel confident to party here at the Bellamy again. Guess I’d better go talk to some folks who will be happy to see me.” And he moved off.

I looked at Jackie. She was shaking her head and rolling her eyes. “See what I mean. The money, the greed. It’s all gotten to him. He’s a changed man.”


He won’t handle another closing for me,” Melanie declared. “What kind of project did he propose to you?” she asked Cam.


Same old, same old. Somebody’s got an idea for a TV series. If I bite then Brian will represent the deal. Is he getting hard up? He’s pushing too hard for a successful lawyer.”


He’s got enough money to try to hide it from me,” Jackie said. “Listen, I’m sorry about that. He’s just not the man he used to be. And Han Cheng is partly to blame for putting grandiose ideas into his head. Now, I’d better go work the crowd. I’ve got a lot of people to thank for coming.”

And she moved on to one of the tables.


Let’s go check out that buffet,” Jon suggested. We went down the stairs, crossed the shell paved path, and into the tent. Elaine was refilling the serving platters.


Where’s Kimberly?” I asked.


She’s taken the tray of strawberries and is offering them at the tables,” Elaine said. “She’s got a lead on a job. What will I do without her?”


Everything looks delicious,” Melanie told Elaine.

Elaine grinned. “It is. I made it myself.” She laughed.


And that is all the recommendation we need,” Cam said, heaping his plate with food. Jon was doing the same. Melanie and I took small portions. Definitely, not fair.

We found a table on the piazza at the balustrade, overlooking the garden. “I love this house,” I told them. “I can understand why Candi is so nutty over it. Imagine calling some place so grand home.”


I don’t know what’s up with Candi,” Melanie said. “I found some land to show her but she has not returned my calls. And the Chengs are not here, but then one would not expect them to do so as they are the violators of the earth.”


I thought you were relieved that Candi wasn’t calling you any longer,” Cam said.


I am,” Melanie responded.

And then some friends stopped by our table to say hello and the topic of the Chengs was dropped.

After dinner, there was light music and a few couples danced on the porch, but not many. Some of the men had gathered in the garden to smoke cigars. Brian Hudson, who loved his cigars, was one of them. From my vantage point I could see him lighting up.

Jon was describing our progress on the belvedere when we all heard a loud cry from the garden below us. We moved to the balustrade and looked down. Someone had fallen. The other men had gathered around him.

With all of the threatening events that had recently occurred in the mansion, my curiosity was peaked. Had someone been attacked? Deliberately harmed?

I left the others and hurried down the stairs, followed the path into the garden to the area where excited voices rose. I squeezed between two men to the center of their circle. One man had his cell phone out and I could hear urgency in his voice.

I looked down at the fallen man. Brian! Brian Hudson was lying stomach down on the grass, his face turned to the side so that I could clearly recognize him. Someone was kneeling beside him, feeling his neck for a pulse.


I’m a doctor,” he said. “He’s alive, but his pulse is weak.”

From a distance the shrill song of sirens got closer. Within minutes, the paramedics and firemen arrived. The firemen cleared the area around Brian, moving us all back toward the wrought iron fence.

Jackie was there, near Brian. “He’s allergic to peanuts,” she was telling the paramedics in a frantic voice. She repeated her assertion until they paid attention to her.

I couldn’t see what they were doing but when Brian was lifted onto the stretcher, I did see that he wore an oxygen mask on his face. His eyes were closed. He did not move. The paramedics rushed him to the ambulance with Jackie running behind. “I’m going with you,” she called.

Then the crowd started to disband. The party atmosphere had ended with Brian’s collapse. Very quickly, the house and the yard were empty of people.

Up on the piazza, Elaine and Kimberly were gathering up plates and cutlery.

Jon was coming toward me. I moved to meet him. Then stepped on something soft and squishy. I looked down. A cigar. Brian’s cigar. I picked it up, pulled a tissue from my purse, wrapped it up and tucked it into my purse for safekeeping. But safekeeping for whom I did not know. Still, lighting that cigar was the last thing I had seen Brian do.


Are you all right?” Jon asked. He took my arm and led me from the garden.


Yes. Just shaken, like everyone else.”


Come on, we’re going home. Cam and Melanie are getting the car.”

Elaine and Kimberly had reached the bottom of the steps as Jon and I passed by. Their hands were full.

Elaine looked alarmed. “They’re saying he ate peanuts,” Elaine cried. “There were absolutely no peanuts in the food I prepared. I know better. No peanut oil either!”


 

 

 

 

24

 

Late Sunday afternoon, I stood at the kitchen window, tea glass in hand, and watched as Jon filled the birdfeeder with “squirrel-proof” safflower seeds, guaranteed to repel squirrels.


Those seeds won’t make the squirrels sick, will they?” I had asked the evening he brought the new bag home from the store.


Not supposed to,” he replied. “Squirrels just don’t like it. They leave it alone. That’s what the guy in the wild bird store told me.”


I hope it works,” I had said.

On the table I had spread out an early supper: pre-made Caesar salads and bowls of prepared soup that we’d picked up at Fresh Market. The soup was corn chowder with grilled chicken, one of my favorites. When Jon came in from the squirrel battlefield, I would pop the soup bowls into the microwave and voila! a cozy Sunday evening dinner for two.

My kitchen was very old-fashioned and I loved it that way. No granite countertops for me, no sheets of cold stainless steel. I had a large free-standing gas stove, green and camel enamel, that had to date back to the forties. But since I rarely cook, what did it matter that one of the burners didn’t work. My cupboards were up too high, large, with glass-paned doors. Now I had a tall husband to reach things for me. The walls were painted a light sunny yellow.

The doorbell rang. Now who would want to shatter the peace of our Sunday afternoon? Hadn’t we been put through enough last night?

I went through the back hall to the front reception hall and peered out through the sidelight to the front porch. Groan, groan! Oh, no! Not them again.

I pulled the door open. “Nick. Diane. What can I do for you? It’s Sunday. Don’t you guys ever get a day off?”


Crime does not take a holiday on Sunday, Ashley” Diane Sherwood said testily, as if I were a kindergartner.


A few questions about what happened last night,” Nick said coolly, and moved inside before I had a chance to invite him in or deny him entrance. Perhaps because this had once been his home he felt he still had rights.

Diane followed, glowering, her usual sulky self.

How did he feel, I wondered, entering the house that used to be his home? A home he did not value, to be sure - part of a marriage he did not value until it was too late - but nevertheless his home for almost a year.


We’re back in the kitchen,” I said, “about to have supper.” Not exactly a warm invitation, more like an acceptance that they were here and would stay until it suited them to leave.

Diane remained coldly silent. That was more unnerving than her sarcasm.

In the kitchen I offered them iced tea and was glad when they both declined. I did not ask them to sit at our kitchen table that was set for our meal. It was much too intimate in here.


Would you prefer to sit in the library?” I asked.


This is fine,” Nick answered for both of them. “We won’t be staying long.”

Well, that is a relief, I thought. Then wondered, why was a homicide team investigating Brian’s collapse? “What about last night?” I asked. “Didn’t Brian have an allergic reaction to peanuts? What does his attack have to do with the homicide division?”

I opened the back door and called to Jon. “Sweetheart, can you come in here for a minute.”

Jon lifted his face from his task, and in a flash of some higher intelligence, I knew the memory of seeing him there would last for the rest of my life. An imprint of how love and happiness feel. And gratitude. Gratitude that it was he and not Nick who shared my life. All the birds in New Hanover County could starve to death before Nick would put out seed. I was so happy I had a mate who cherished domestic chores just as I did.

When Jon got close, I whispered, “The demonic duo is here.”

Jon came in and said hello politely, yet was clearly irritated by the intrusion of our private Sunday afternoon.

Nick crossed his arms tightly over his chest, a clear sign that he would not let down his guard, that he was in his cop’s mode. His body language conveyed the message that he did not like being here any better than we liked having him.

So we four stood around the kitchen, each uncomfortable for different reasons. Knowing how they felt, knowing of Diane’s personal animosity for me, you’d have thought they’d have found someone else to question. There were many others at the party last night who were witnesses to Brian’s collapse.


As I have previously explained to you, Ashley,” Diane said, “how the department conducts its business is not your concern.”


Well, right now you are inside my kitchen, delaying my supper, so that makes it my concern. Why don’t you just cut to the chase, say why you are here, ask your questions, and go, so that Jon and I can salvage what is left of our weekend.” Without your infernal and pompous lecturing, I wanted to add but did not.


OK, that’s enough!” Nick said, narrowing his eyes and throwing down his arms as if to beat the air. At least he had removed his dark glasses when he entered so I could see his eyes which looked tired. “Just tell us what you saw last night.”

Jon moved nearer to me. “We were standing up on the piazza. Brian Hudson and a few other men were smoking cigars in the garden below us. We heard a yell. Later, we saw that Brian had fallen or collapsed. I did not see him collapse. Neither did Ashley. That is all we know.”


Let Ashley speak for herself,” Nick said. “Did you see Hudson fall? Did you see what happened before he fell?” He glared at me levelly. He still respected me and my judgment; that I could see.


No. It’s like Jon just said. We did not see him fall. But I was curious . . .”


Of course you were,” Diane said in her sanctimonious tone. She could not hold her resentment in check any longer.


If you will let me finish,” I said testily. “I was curious so I went down into the garden to see what had happened. Brian was lying face down on the ground. A doctor was kneeling beside him. The doctor - I don’t know who he was - said Brian had a pulse, but faint. Someone was calling 911.”

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