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Authors: Ellen Elizabeth Hunter

Murder at the Holiday Flotilla (10 page)

BOOK: Murder at the Holiday Flotilla
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10

 

While Melanie spoke to the dispatcher at 9-1-1, I called Jon. As soon as he got the full import of what I was babbling about – and yes, indeedy, I was babbling a mile a minute – he insisted on driving straight out. “I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

I stared at Melanie across the bed, looked at her over Buddy Henry’s stricken body. He lay still, very, very still. And appeared not to be breathing. I looked for the slow lift and fall of his chest, but he was as immobile as a wooden dummy. Exactly as Redfield had looked when I found him on Saturday night. And like Redfield a small trickle of blood had congealed at his nostrils.


Was he the one you had out here this morning?” I asked.


Yes,” she murmured, pacing, and cogitating hard.


Well, he did leave with you, didn’t he? You didn’t leave him behind here in the house?”


Of course, he left with me. I’m responsible for this house. I wouldn’t permit anyone to be in here unattended. Well, that is, the cleaning service was here on Monday and Tuesday. You can’t imagine what a mess this place was. Dirty carpet, odds and ends left behind. Why the master bathroom looked like someone had simply gone out for a stroll, not moved away entirely. Shampoo bottles, prescription bottles, soap, wash cloths.”


Melanie!” I shouted.


What?”


You’re babbling.” Guess this tendency runs in the family.


But . . . I think one of the sliding glass doors was unlocked.”


Downstairs?”


Yes, on the main level. When I went to unlatch the door, it already was unlatched. I’m sure I locked up this morning.”


Could he . . .” and I nodded with my chin to the unconscious body on the bed “have unlatched it?”


But why?”


I don’t know. Clearly, he got back inside somehow.”


Yes,” she said thoughtfully. “He did.”

In the distance I heard the wail of sirens, drawing nearer and nearer until the high-pitched screech was right under our windows, abruptly dying. “They’re here.”

I went out into the hall and looked down through a window to the circular driveway. A fire truck. Very quickly, four firemen jumped out of the truck and dashed up onto the porch.


We’d better get down there and open the door before those firemen bring out the axes and chop it down.”

The next thing I was aware of was being surrounded by four big burly firemen. They must have spent every free minute of their downtime hefting barbells because those guys had some serious musculature. No females on this team.

One fireman was a bit older than the other three. “Where is he?” he asked.


Upstairs. I’ll show you,” Melanie replied.


No, ma’am, you wait here. My men will handle this.”


You got it, Captain,” one of the team called as the three firemen ran up the stairs two at a time while hoisting some piece of equipment with them, the purpose of which was a mystery to me.


You say there’s a state senator up there?” the captain wanted to know.


Yes, sir,” Melanie answered. She was very subdued, not her usual animated self.


Senator Henry from Brunswick County?” the captain verified.


Yes.”


You know Senator Henry?” he asked.

Melanie hesitated. “Yes.”


OK. Now, tell me what happened here.”

Melanie and I interrupted each other in our haste to explain how we found him on the bed. Melanie said nothing about Jack McAllister being here with us, or about having shown the house to Henry earlier that morning.


All right now, if you ladies will kindly stay right here, I need to have a look around.” And the captain wandered off to explore the first floor.


Wait a minute,” Melanie called. “Where are you going? I just had those carpets steam cleaned.”

The heels of the captain’s boots were muddy.

Melanie ran after him with me right behind. “What are doing? What are you looking for?”


I asked you ladies to wait out there in the hall.”


You have no right to take over this house. It’s not like a crime has been committed here. There’s no fire!”

The captain’s face grew a deep red from the neck up, but quickly he calmed himself. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and calm. He must have taken classes in how to speak to hysterical females. “Ma’am, I’m a first responder. We’ve been trained in how to react to an emergency call. It’s my job to take a look around, ensure the safety of my men and the rest of the emergency team. Make sure there’s nothing hazardous here. It’s the law. Ever hear of Homeland Security?”

Melanie was speechless. How had the day gone so wrong? Mere minutes ago she was on top of the world, on her way to earning a staggering commission.


Hazardous?” I asked. “You mean like explosives?”


Just let me do my job, ladies, please. I promise you I won’t cart off the family silver.” He attempted a joke.

Melanie and I strolled back to the front door which was standing wide open. “He’s very condescending,” she complained.


Terrorists,” I said. “He’s been trained to look for terrorists. That’d be my bet.


Something puzzles me, Mel. How did Henry get here? There was no car parked in the driveway. Did someone bring him? Then leave him here? After . . .”

An ambulance roared up the driveway and braked directly at the bottom of the porch steps, crushing a bush.


Just look at what they’re doing to the landscaping,” Melanie cried with disapproval. “I’ll have to replace that shrub.”


There was a pickup truck parked in the neighbor’s driveway.” I was thinking out loud. I looked out through the open door. “It’s gone now.” Where had I seen a truck like that recently?

Two paramedics hurried up the steps, bearing a gurney loaded with equipment. “Where’s the patient?” one asked.

The captain appeared from the bedroom wing and escorted them up the stairs.


You aren’t going to tell them about Jack, are you?” I asked.


Shush,” she said, and shook her head.


You’re making a mistake.”


We’ll see. Let’s just let this play out. We don’t know what happened to the senator. Could be a heart attack or a stroke. Natural causes.”


Sure, sure,” I said doubtfully.

Within minutes, the EMTs were streaming back down the stairs, the firemen close behind.

The captain paused to speak to Melanie, perhaps felt she was owed an explanation. “This house is up for sale and you’re the listing agent, right?”

He knew all that. Melanie nodded.


We recognized Senator Henry but we verified his identify from his wallet anyway. Sorry to have to tell you but he’s dead.”


Do you know how he died? Was it a heart attack?”


We won’t know that until the state medical examiner performs an autopsy and we get toxicology. We’ve called Wilmington PD. We’re required to have a police report in a case like this. They’re on their way. And the local M.E.’s coming. They’ll arrange for transport to Chapel Hill. They’ll even notify the next of kin.”

Seeing Melanie’s stricken face, the fire captain said, “Don’t worry, ma’am. The police will handle everything. And we’ll stay here with you until they arrive.”

Then spotting the flash of sunlight off a glass windshield, he said, “Won’t be necessary. Here they are now.”

He strode out onto the porch, waved off the paramedics who were stowing their equipment in the rear of the ambulance, and gazed on as two police cruisers pulled up onto the grass.

Uh oh. The door to one of the cruisers was opening, and no, oh no, not him. I felt Melanie’s breath near my ear. “It’s him,” I said.

She rested her hand on my shoulder. I reached up to clasp it. “Don’t let him get to you,” she said.

Don’t let him get to me. Was that possible? We were like oil and water.

The firemen were ready to leave but waited as the captain took a moment to greet the man who had stepped out of the police cruiser. They shook hands and exchanged words.

Two uniformed officers and two plain clothes detectives entered the house. One of the detectives, heart-breakingly attractive, glared at me. Poison darts shot from his eyes to mine.


Hi, Nick,” I said in an off-hand manner. But the voice inside my head told me I was a fool if I thought he wasn’t going to create a gigantic unpleasant scene about my being here.

Homicide Detective Nicholas Yost is my ex-husband. Ours had been a hot romance, a powerful bright candle that desire had ignited at both ends with such scorching intensity it had burned itself out – fast. Snuff. It was out. Over and done in just about a year.


Ashley, what is it about you that draws you to every suspicious death in this town? The press is right about you. You are a magnet for murder.”

I rebelled. “Murder? Who said anything about a murder? You’ve got a sixty-year-old man on the bed who probably died of natural causes. Maybe he had a stroke. Or a heart attack. Why don’t you wait until the medical examiner does his job? You’re the one who’s the magnet.”

I was tempted to say maggot but did not. Too petty even for me. I was pretty darn fed up with Nick and his sanctimonious attitude. It wasn’t my fault that a senator had somehow entered Melanie’s for-sale house, laid down on the bed, and proceeded to have some sort of medical problem. We’d already been informed that there would have to be an autopsy to determine cause of death. Why was Nick assuming a crime had been committed and that somehow I’d brought this distressful situation upon law enforcement and the tax payers?

The uniformed officers stood around, fascinated by the conflict between Nick and me. Abruptly, Nick started up the stairs, then turned back to Melanie and me. “You too stay right here. I’ll talk to you later.”


Oh no, they are not,” an angry but firm voice said from the open door. Jon. My hero. “I’m taking Ashley home. She’s got two babies who need her.”


Yeah, I heard about the babies,” Nick said, some of the flame in his fire dampened.

Jon went on, “Melanie is leaving too. You know where to find both of them when you get around to questioning them.


And if you think that either one of them had anything to do with whatever . . . whatever went on here . . . then, as usual you are guilty of . . . well, the kindest thing I can say is lack of good judgment.”

And with that, my darling, wonderful, brave husband slipped one arm around my waist and the other around Melanie’s and propelled us out the door.

I turned for one final look at Nick. For just a second his expression had softened. I wondered if he was remembering the baby we had lost, the child who had not lived for more than three months after being conceived.

 

 

 

 

 

11

 


Melanie, there is no way we are going to lie to the police,” I hissed at her. “Tell her. Tell her, Walt. She must tell them the truth.”


I’m an officer of the court, Melanie. If there is something you have not been forthright about, now is your chance to set the record straight.”

Attorney Walter Brice was thick around the middle, totally bald – in fact, I think he shaved his head - and pushing sixty. Taciturn by nature, and shrewd in his legal affairs, Walt had a soft spot for Melanie and me because of his friendship and admiration for our late father. Walt thought the world of Daddy, often referring to him as the best judge to ever preside over the New Hanover County superior court.


Just tell the truth,” Walt advised. “However, don’t volunteer anything. Wait for the questions, then answer them succinctly but truthfully. No embellishments, please.”


The lieutenant will see you now,” the clerk outside the lieutenant’s office told us, opening the door to the office, and ushering us inside.

The big man who came lumbering out from behind his desk smiled broadly at Walt and reached forward to shake hands. “Walt Brice! How you doin’, you old scallywag?”

After greetings, Walt introduced Melanie and me, and we found seats.

The lieutenant placed one large hip on the front edge of his desk, telegraphing that this was going to be an informal interview. To Melanie and me, he said, “Ladies, thank you for coming in. I’m Lieutenant Sol Edmunds. Because of the nature of this case, and also because Detective Yost has a personal connection to you, Mrs. Campbell, I’ve asked him to excuse himself from this interview. I will personally oversee these preliminary proceedings. That is, until we know the cause of Senator Henry’s death. And I have no reason to believe that will be anything other than natural causes.”

The last thing the lieutenant would want would be the homicide of a state senator in his jurisdiction. I realized he just wanted this thing to go away, same as we did.


Nonetheless, his death is receiving a lot of media attention, as I’m sure you know by now.”

BOOK: Murder at the Holiday Flotilla
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