Murder at the Bellamy Mansion (5 page)

“
The colors are so vivid,” Melanie commented.

“
I like this one,” I said, indicating a blue glass “jelly” that glowed almost lifelike inside a clear glass globe.

“
That one is called Blue Moon,” Joan said. “People who enter the shop immediately gravitate to Satava's work. And the Blue Moon is most popular because of its gorgeous blue glow.”

“
Did you know that jellyfish have been found on earth for over six hundred and fifty million years - before sharks and even dinosaurs?” Mike said. “They have no head, heart, brain, bones, cartilage or real eyes. Yet they're among the major predators in the ocean. Their tentacles carry stinging cells that are among the most complicated found anywhere in the animal kingdom.”

Melanie laughed. “Sounds like some men I’ve known. No brains, no backbones, just stinging tentacles.”

The Lochs just smiled at her politely. How could they know that her husband had flown off in the middle of their honeymoon to attend the supposed “death bed” of his manipulative mother?

“
How much is the Blue Moon?” Melanie asked.

“
The Blue Moon is one thousand fifty dollars,” Joan said.

“
I’ll take it. Can you gift wrap it very special? I want to impress someone.”

“
The Blue Moon will definitely impress your client,” Joan assured us, and removed the glass globe from the display case to take around the counter to wrap while Mike wrote up the sale.

“
Melanie, that is some extravagant gift,” I said. “And you know how fickle your clients can be. There’s no assurance this couple will buy from . . .”

“
Melanie!” a woman screeched from the open door.

I turned to see a petite woman with shiny blue-black hair. She had large dark eyes and was dressed in tights with one of those bulky knit tunic sweaters that were so popular this winter but that Melanie assured me would quickly go out of style. They were so unflattering.

“
Candi!” Melanie greeted. “What a surprise to see you here, sweetie. I thought you’d be preparing for the party.”

The Chinese woman approached us with a large, pleased-with-herself-smile plastered on her face. She waved a hand, indifferent. “Oh, I’ve got a party planner to handle all that for me.”

Her speech was rapid-fire, high-pitched, choppy, and as irritating as nails on a chalkboard.

“
Candi, this is my sister Ashley. Ashley, this is my new client Candi Cheng.”

Candi’s hand was birdlike in mine as we shook hands. “I’m pleased to meet you, Candi.”

Candi flicked me over with a cool glance, made a quick decision that I was unimportant, then fixed Melanie with the most intense stare. In fact, I could see immediately, this woman was very, very intense. She vibrated almost as eerily as the glass jellyfish.

“
Melanie! Your office told me I could find you here. I had to come right away. I have found it!”

Melanie just looked at her, unblinking, uncomprehending.

“
The house!” Candi shrieked. “I have found the house. I must have it. A glorious white mansion up on the hill.” She waved a child-size arm. “Enormous white two-story columns! There is even a fountain in the roundabout out front.”

I knew exactly which house she was referring to. Intelligence shot across Melanie’s face as she got it too.

“
It’s called bell something,” Candi shrieked. “The bell something mansion.”

“
Melanie!” I shrieked almost as piercingly as Candi had. “The Bellamy Mansion is not for sale. What is it with you and your crazy clients? Only recently you represented those dreadful Pogues who insisted they were going to buy Captain Pettigrew’s house even though it was not for sale.”

Candi had breezed out of the Crescent Moon, as airily as she had breezed in. Melanie had collected the beautifully wrapped Blue Moon glass “jelly,” and together we’d tramped down the wooden staircase and out into the parking lot of the Cotton Exchange. I had been berating Melanie as she’d stomped on ahead of me to her car. I trailed along behind, complaining bitterly, “She cannot buy the Bellamy Mansion!”

Melanie turned abruptly. “I know that. I know that it is a stewardship property of Preservation North Carolina and not for sale. I’ll just have to find her something similar now that I know what she likes.”

Melanie and her clients can be so infuriating.

A cab entered the parking lot and pulled up alongside us where we stood arguing next to Melanie’s bright red Mercedes CLK 500 Cabriolet convertible.

The rear window of the cab slid down. A man’s voice called, “You babes need a lift?”

Melanie took one look, jumped off the ground in a twirl reminiscent of her high school cheerleading days, and squealed, “Cam!”

In an instant he bounded out of the cab and wrapped her in his arms. “You’re home!” she cried.

5

On Saturday evening we boarded a launch at the Wrightsville Marina to sail out to Candi and Han’s spectacular yacht, The Glowing, so named because the Chinese translation of Candi is “glowing.” Their luxury yacht had created quite a buzz of excitement among yachting enthusiasts in the area. Not since the days of the Pembroke Joneses had Wilmington seen any ship as lavish as the Chengs’. At one hundred feet in length, it featured a sport deck, a media lounge, an open air champagne bar, an immense salon, and state rooms for twelve.

The weather was nippy and I huddled in my coat and in Jon’s arms for warmth as we crossed the darkened waterway toward the brilliantly lit yacht with its mega watt illumination lighting up the night. The Intracoastal Waterway is eerily pitch black at night. I’d pinned up my hair with jeweled combs so I didn’t have to worry about the damp wind turning it into a frizzy mess.

We reached the yacht and a crew member assisted us up the ramp. Melanie first, then me, Cam, and lastly Jon. He was dressed in a beautifully-cut midnight blue suit that showed off his golden blonde good looks. I had on a black silk cocktail dress.

Inside the salon, Melanie slipped off her coat and handed it to a waiting attendant, and it was clear to me that she would be the most dazzling woman at the party. Her gown was a pale peach, embroidered with sequins, and fit like a second skin. Melanie did not jog, nor do Pilates, or work out at a gym, so how did she maintain that gorgeous figure? Beats me.

Cam was immediately at her side with an arm flung possessively around her waist. She’s my wife, his devotion shouted, and you other guys, back off!

A tiny, red-haired woman bore down on us as relentlessly as a Coast Guard cutter after a pirate ship. “Melanie!” she screeched. I’d recognize that irritating high-pitched squeal anywhere. Our hostess, Candi. But what had she done to her hair?

“
Melanie, darling,” she trilled in her sing-song voice, and kissed the air at Melanie’s cheek. Was this air kissing also a Chinese custom? Or had Candi been watching the remake of Anita Loos’s Thirties classic, The Women? There had been a lot of air kissing in that revival.

Melanie zoomed in on Candi’s new hair color with the ferocity of a feral cat on a dozing mouse. The frosty gleam in her eye said she abhorred Candi’s new red hair which was an exact match for Melanie’s own natural color.

“
You’ve changed your hair,” Melanie said with a forced smile.

“
Oh, do you like it?” Candi asked and patted the perm that had produced waves and curls just like Melanie’s. “I’ve always wanted to be a redhead. The hairstylist you recommended was fab. She knew just how to do my hair when I described the style I had in mind.”

“
Melanie is going to snatch that hair stylist bald,” Jon whispered to me.

“
Don’t say a word,” I warned him.

Jon and Cam continued to stare. “I’m not sure . . .” Cam started to say.

But Melanie had not risen to the status of billion-dollar producer by insulting her clients. Her smile broadened and her tone became as syrupy as a bottle of Aunt Jemima’s own when she said, “You look gorgeous, Candi. The style and color suit you.”

“
Oh, do you really think so, Melanie? Because your opinion is most critical to me. These other women,” and her shallow arm rake indicated the bevy of well-turned out women who were her guests, “what do they know about style?”

Only those who know Melanie as well as Jon, Cam, and I could spot her fake smile – a smile that had been practiced endlessly in front of a mirror during her pageant days. Or detect that the syrup in her voice would soon harden to rock. Oh, Candi would pay dearly for this lapse in judgment, and she would pay big, in big bucks.

“
Come on, Melanie,” Candi whined, catching Melanie’s hand. “I want you to meet some very important people.”

But Melanie withdrew her hand and said, “Show us to the powder room first, Candi. I’m a little windblown.”

And as Candi motioned to an attendant who scurried forward rapidly, Melanie grabbed my arm. “Come on, Shug, let’s go comb our hair.”

Candi instructed the attendant to show us to the day head, then without so much as a greeting to me, or a glance at Jon and Cam, she turned on her heel to mingle with other, more important guests than we.

Inside the day head, it was my turn to screech. “Oh my god, Melanie,” I cried, as I ran my hand over the smooth cream-colored lavatory basin and counter top.

“
What?” Melanie asked distractedly, gazing at herself in the mirror, and plumping up her waves and curls. “Now I’ll have to get a new do,” she groaned. “The nerve of that skinny-assed skank.”

“
Oh, Melanie, forget it. She looks ridiculous. Anyone can see how silly she is. Do you know what this is?” I asked with alarm, my palm caressing the sink bowl, my voice as high-pitched as Candi’s.

“
Wait till I get my hands around the neck of that hair stylist,” Melanie threatened. “How dare she duplicate my style and color on that . . . pompous creature.”

“
Melanie,” I cried, “forget the hair. This is ivory! Ivory! They’ve made a sink bowl out of ivory. Now we know why this yacht was built in Hong Kong. There’s no American company that would commit such a sin. Why there are laws against the importing and sale of ivory.”

“
What?” Melanie said, still fingering her hair with a repulsed expression on her face.

“
Ivory, Melanie. Ivory. Forget your hair. Some poacher shot an elephant just so that . . . what did you call her? . . . that skinny-assed skank? She does have the figure of a pre-pubescent eleven year old, doesn’t she? Anyway, listen to me. Those elephants suffer. They are left to bleed to death after the poachers hack off their tusks.”

Melanie stared at me, an expression of horror on her face.

“
Oh, Melanie, dump that dreadful woman. You don’t need her. You’re the best realtor in this town. Everyone knows that.”

Melanie redirected her focus to the sink bowl. “Are you sure it’s ivory? Maybe it’s something else. Corian?”

“
No, it’s ivory all right.”

“
I saw a show on the Nature Channel about how the poachers bring down elephants. I detest anyone who is cruel to animals or who profits from the cruelty. And also those who support those miserable . . . miserable . . . If that selfish bitch has outfitted her yacht with illegal exotic materials, well, I’m going to stick it to her good. She is going to pay, and pay big time. I’m going to make her suffer just like that elephant suffered.”

“
What do you have in mind?” I asked.

“
I haven’t figured that out yet. But it is going to be good, and I’m going to make the biggest sale this town has ever witnessed.”

As we left the day head we found Jackie Hudson waiting for us. Jackie was impatient. And livid. Practically stamping her high-heeled sandaled foot. “Did you see it?” she screeched. “They are in every head on this ship! Elephant tusks! Elephant tusks used for sink basins and countertops. Turns my stomach!”

“
Yes, we saw,” I said glumly.

“
Come with me,” Jackie said. “Let me show you something.” And she led us down a hallway and into the library. “Do you see this paneling? Han has been showing it off to the guests. Brazilian bigleaf mahogany. Can you believe it? That fool is destroying the rain forest so he can panel a room and boast about it to others who are just as easily impressed and ignorant as he.”

“
Oh my gosh, Jackie,” I said, “you’re right. I am offended. Really offended. I’m going to find Jon and we are leaving this party right now. I know Jon feels the same way we do.”

“
Wait a moment, Shug,” Melanie called. “You can’t leave without Cam and me, and I’ve got to stay here and reel in my fish.”

I turned to her. “Melanie, she is so besotted with you, you have nothing to worry about. The next thing we know, she’ll be trying to borrow your clothes.”

“
I don’t think you two are taking this sacrilege very seriously,” Jackie said with hostility.

“
We do take it seriously,” I tried to reassure her.

Jackie fumed, “It’s a crime, what they have done. Here I’ve been leading the campaign against big industry so that we can preserve our air quality, and those two leave behind their polluted cities and sail into our port with a boat load of contraband. Well, I won’t stand for it. I am going to expose them. I am going to get even with them if it means I have to personally throw them overboard and sink this befouled ship myself!”