Murder on the Cape Fear (14 page)

“
Have you had time to study the journal, Binkie?” I asked.

He answered with a question of his own. “Patsy Pogue and her husband quarreled over Captain Pettigrew’s house? I’ve never met the man. Never even heard of him. Or his wife.”

And why would he? Binkie read scholarly books. He was not into novels.

Binkie folded his hands over his stomach. He shook his head as if puzzled. “I’ve read every entry in that journal, and while his narratives are a stupendous find from a military history perspective, I cannot find a clue to these current murders. There are accounts of his voyages as he delivered goods from the Southern States to Bermuda or to Liverpool, then sailed home from England with cargo for the Confederacy. He was consigned to various ships, some owned by mercantile shippers, others by the Confederacy. Many of the entries are nothing more than ships manifests, itemized lists of cargo. Let me show you.”

He got up and went to the breakfront, opened a glass door and retrieved the journal. Then sitting down again, he opened the journal and read an entry.

July 1863 – Wilmington

Awaiting entry into the Wilmington Port. Another safe journey across the Atlantic on the CSS Gibraltar under the command of Captain E. C. Reid. Formerly the screw packet Sumter, she had been sold by the Confederacy to the Charleston shipping company of Fraser, Trenholm and Company, and sent to Liverpool for conversion to a merchantman. Then she was repurchased by the Confederacy so that she could transport a most important cargo. On July 3, we departed Liverpool with a pair of powerful 12.75-inch Blakely cannons, each weighing over 27 tons. The cannons are so huge it was impossible to conceal them from the British authorities. Ingenuously, Captain Reid devised a way to display them in full view yet to conceal them. The cannons were harnessed upright in vertical positions in the cargo hatches, disguised to look like extra smokestacks. The authorities were fooled.

Approaching the outer blockade of the Cape Fear, Captain Reid audaciously hoisted the Union flag and we slipped easily through the line. It wasn’t until we were under the protection of the big guns at Ft. Fisher that the blockaders realized we were not one of their own. By then it was too late for them to give chase. I piloted the ship safely up the Cape Fear where we are now waiting out our term of quarantine before commencing to the port and home. The Captain has received word that the cannons are desired by none other than General Beauregard himself and are destined for the Charleston Battery.

“
The entire journal is filled with such entries,” Binkie said. “This diary is a treasure. But try as I might, I cannot find anything that Captain Pettigrew has written that would be a motive for murder today.”

“
When did Thomas Pettigrew get promoted from a pilot to a Captain?” I wanted to know.

“
That came later. Young Thomas experienced many adventures before he was given command of his own ship. For example, he sailed with Captain Holgate on the CSS General Beauregard’s final voyage. The Beauregard was run aground while under heavy fire from three blockaders. Knowing the jig was up, the Captain ordered the crew to open the sea cocks and flood the ship. He’d rather sink it than let the Union Navy get their hands on it.

“
Captured blockade runners were sold in a prize court, and the crew that captured it received half of the proceeds. Then the Union would mount guns and convert the ship into a blockader.

“
The crew of the Beauregard escaped and sailed to shore in small boats; some of the sailors swam to safety. None of the crew was lost, but wet and shivering they made their way to a river pilot’s home.

“
The wreck of the General Beauregard can still be seen off Carolina Beach during low tide.”

“
Cam told me he and Jon dive around that wreck,” Melanie said. She gave a little shake. “I have no desire to dive underwater to see those spooky old sunken ships.”

I got the impression that Cam had still not told Melanie of his accident with his diving gear. Jon said they were taking a break from diving, both of them busy with work, and that before their next diving venture they would have their gear checked out thoroughly and the faulty air-tubing replaced. I had said, “You’d better.” For now, all diving adventures were on hold. And just as well, I thought.

Binkie went on. “To answer your question of when Thomas Pettigrew commanded his own ship, he writes about that in several entries. In the summer of 1864, he took command of his old friend, the Gibraltar. The ship was laid up for repairs at Birkenhead, England. But the British textile mill owners were desperate for our cotton and willing to pay dearly for it. So they formed a consortium with a small mercantile company and purchased the Gibraltar, hiring young Pettigrew to Captain it. He was an experienced seaman - brave and daring - and familiar with the ship. Plus, he was trustworthy. An ideal choice. His job was to deliver as much cotton as possible as quickly as possible to the consortium members. In exchange, the consortium would supply munitions, meats, uniforms, and gold to the Confederacy. And for his services he was well paid.”

“
If he was paid in gold,” I speculated, “perhaps that is what is at the bottom of these murders. And perhaps the gold is hidden in the Captain’s house and the murderer is trying to find it.”

16

“
But then why steal Binkie’s briefcase?” Melanie argued.

“
Because he thought the journal would tell where the gold was hidden,” Aunt Ruby volunteered.

“
But it doesn’t,” Binkie declared. “And I read every entry in that journal. There is no reference to anything being hidden in his house.”

“
But the killer doesn’t know that, my love,” Ruby said. “I want that journal out of here and fast.”

“
Yes, ma’am,” Binkie said and gave her a little salute. “You and I will have one last perusal, and then it’s off to the library’s archives.” He winked at Melanie and me.

I had been thinking. “According to Laura Gaston, Lacey lived on her brother’s earnings for all of her life, and used what was left to set up a trust fund to care for the property when she was gone.”

“
And here’s another thing,” Melanie said, “if Jimmy Pogue is our killer and the motive is gold hidden in the Captain’s house, why did Patsy tell him he should have burned the house down when he had the chance?”

“
And why was he trying to remove the artifacts from the house when I caught him at it red-handed?”

“
What did you do with that box of artifacts?” Melanie asked. Her green eyes were blazing with excitement.

“
Jon and I went through everything. Believe me there was no gold in that box. Nor were there any letters or journals, just nineteenth-century objects, lanterns and such. I gave them to the Cape Fear Museum.”

“
Well, based on what we’ve learned, Ashley dear,” Binkie said, “I believe you must take measures to ensure that the Captain’s house is secure at all times. And you must instruct Willie Hudson not to admit anyone he does not know. Further, if there is a chance that Jimmy Pogue may want to set fire to the house, you should hire a night watchman as well.”

It was fully dark at ten o’clock when Melanie drove me to the Captain’s house on Front Street so that I could pick up my van. We sat in her car for a moment. The convertible’s top was down and the night was hot, but it was a pleasant heat - the heat of a Southern summer night. I love the summer. I love the sultry breezes that waft off the Cape Fear to caress my skin and curl my hair.

The windows were now completely installed in the Captain’s house and inky blackness showed from within. But with white primer on the house, it seemed illuminated. Ambient city light glowed all around us, and the bright lights from Chandler’s Wharf below flickered through the trees. Out on the river, Memorial Bridge spanned the water like a sparkling diamond necklace stretched out on dark blue velvet.

“
Kind of spooky, isn’t it?” I said about the Captain’s house, and before the words were out of my mouth, I saw a light flash from one of the upstairs rooms.

“
Did you see that?” I asked Melanie.

“
See what?”

“
That flash of light. Someone is in the house! Binkie was right.”

Melanie looked where I pointed. “I don’t see anything.”

“
It was just there. A flash of light, like from a flashlight.”

“
Could have been a reflection of car headlights passing by,” she said. “Binkie has got your imagination fired up.”

“
Don’t start with me, Melanie. I know what I saw. There! There it is again.” A light flickered through the window of the second floor front room, then disappeared.

“
I saw it too,” Melanie said in an awed voice. “Do you have your keys? Come on. Let’s go inside and catch whoever it is.”

“
No way! I don’t want us to be the murderer’s next victims.”

“
I’m not afraid to confront that wimpy Jimmy Pogue. He’s a coward. The way he murdered those people was cowardly. Sneaking up from behind and reaching around and stabbing them. Only a coward would kill that way. No eye contact.”

“
Since when have you become an expert on murderers’ MOs? There is no way I am going into that house, or that I’ll let you go in either.”

“
Oh, pish posh. I guess you’re right. But we said we wanted to solve this crime on our own.”

“
Look, Melanie, just because we’ve got a red roadster, doesn’t mean we are Nancy Drew and Bess.” I whipped out my cell phone and dialed 911, reported a prowler, and gave the dispatcher the address. I was calling 911 much too often these days. I had to get a life - a normal life. I should be planning my wedding, instead I was sitting on the street with Nancy Drew in her red convertible in River City, waiting for the police to arrive once again.

It must have been a slow night for Wilmington PD or else the address on Front Street had been input into their computers with bells and whistles attached, because in five minutes a patrol car arrived. During that time neither Melanie nor I had seen a flicker of light within the house. “He’s gone,” I said, disappointed. “He spotted us out here and left the same way he got in.”

Melanie and I got out of the convertible and stood on the sidewalk. A uniformed police officer stepped from the driver’s side of the patrol car. But when I saw who got out of the passenger side, my mouth fell open and I felt like I had been punched in the gut. Nick!

“
What . . . what are you doing here, Nick?” Then I blabbered nervously. “I heard you were back. Diane said you were after your old job. Did they hire you back? Are you on the force again?”

Nick doesn’t get flustered the way I do. He was the personification of Mr. Cool himself. “It’s a quiet night. I’m just here on a ride-along,” he said casually, as if it was no big deal that he was riding in a patrol car on a call about a break-in that involved his estranged wife.

Nick was much too cool and controlled to ever have been right for me. Jon’s every feeling showed on his face and he didn’t try to suppress his emotions. He never hid from me behind a façade of indifference.

“
Give me your keys,” Nick instructed and stretched out his hand.

I deposited the heavy key ring in his upturned palm. He handed the keys to the uniformed officer. “I’ll just have a walk around out here.” He disappeared into the darkness of the sloping side yard, while the officer used the keys to open the door. I ran up behind him. “I’ll show you how to turn on the lights.”

Melanie was barking up my shins in her haste. “Stop stepping on my heels,” I howled.

The officer turned back to us with a menacing, “Keep it down.”

After I turned on the strings of glaring bare-bulb work lights, we moved into the reception hall. “You ladies wait out in your car,” the officer told us, and groaning with disappointment Melanie led the way back out into the street.

“
Oh pooh. I hate it that we can’t get in on the action. I really like this detective stuff,” she told me with a frown.

Get in on the action? A few turns at finding dead bodies and she’d be cured.

Nick and the officer returned together, huddling and speaking in low tones. Then they came over to us. “Rogers, this is my wife, Ashley Wilkes. And that is her sister, Melanie Wilkes. This is Officer Rogers, an old friend.”

“
Ex-wife,” I corrected.

“
Not yet,” Nick said, and I did a double take. I faced the two of them squarely and said in a firm voice, “We are separated. Our divorce will be final in December.” Then I gave Nick a menacing look of my own, as if to say: What’s your problem?

Officer Rogers said, “I know who you are, Miss Wilkes. Everybody does. Your reputation precedes you, as they say. Now, ladies, I checked the entire house and there was no one in there. But Nick found a raised first floor window on the side yard. Probably just a curiosity seeker poking around, nothing better to do. I didn’t see any signs of damage but with all the construction going on, it’s hard to tell.”

Nick was walking to his side of the patrol car. “Better tell your workers to lock up when they leave,” he advised smugly.

“
Wait a minute. Wait a minute,” I called. “This has something to . . .”

Melanie grabbed my hand and pulled me back. “No,” she hissed. “Don’t involve him.”

But I broke away and caught up with Nick. “Tell me one thing,” I said. “You owe me. Did the police find prints on the knife handles?”