Murder at the Bellamy Mansion (13 page)

On the west was the First Baptist Church, also constructed during the same period, its tall steeple piercing the sky. Across Market Street, the Carolina Apartment building sat squarely on the corner. The building looked quiet and closed up. No one leaned out of an upper story window. No shooter in sight. Wilmington PD seemed to have the threat of a shooting rampage under control for the time being.

In the distance to the north I spied our tallest building, the new PPD headquarters.

Jon was sheathing the window openings on the south side, shielding us from any threat from the Carolina Apartments. Lonnie was working on constructing a temporary safety railing until we could design and duplicate the original.

The Bellamy family, with the exception of Dr. Bellamy himself, had been members and staunch supporters of the First Presbyterian Church at Third and Orange. And undoubtedly that explained why alcoholic beverages had not been served in their home.

One of the things I love about my hometown is the multitude of historic churches with their heaven-reaching steeples. My own church, St. James Episcopal, is an architectural treasure with its Gothic Revival bell tower.

We would move the sashes to the work shop and repair and paint them there. Then we would get to work repairing the window frames. Wood was rotted out and had to be replaced. After that, I planned to sand and scrape the peeling plaster walls.

When Jon and Lonnie were ready for a lunch break, we had headed down to the garden. For January eighth we were experiencing mild, warm weather. Oh, Wilmington gets its cold snaps, but for the most part our winters are of the shirt-sleeve variety.

So we sat out under an ancient magnolia tree and enjoyed the spring-like day in the restored garden.

As a young woman in the mid-nineteenth century, Eliza Bellamy, nee McIlhenny Harriss, had been an accomplished botanist who derived much pleasure from the garden in her old home. In 1861 when the mansion was finished and the Bellamy family had moved in, Mrs. Bellamy looked forward to planting a new garden here. But the War Between the States started within months of the Bellamys moving into their glorious new home. And on the heels of the naval blockade, Yellow Fever spread to our port city, believed to have been transmitted by sailors on board one of the blockade runners. The Bellamys, and many other families, fled the threat of illness to stay with friends or family in outlying areas that had been spared the pandemic.

Mrs. Bellamy waited four years before she was permitted to return to her home and begin the planning and creation of her garden. But first an ornate iron fence had to be installed around the property. After waiting so long, the garden must have given her great satisfaction and joy.

After Mrs. Bellamy’s death in 1907, the garden slowly deteriorated. And during the years when the house was unoccupied, the garden virtually disappeared. But when the restoration of this prize architectural specimen began in 1992, UNCW undertook a research study of the garden. Using historic photographs and personal recollections, a fair idea of how the garden had appeared originally was revealed.

In 1996, the garden was recreated through generous local giving. Now it resembled the original as nearly as possible.

I gazed up onto the piazza and could almost see the large family gathered there, enjoying their garden. At this time of year, there would be pale pink and deep rose camellias blooming against the deep greens and bright reds of holly and pyracantha for them to admire.

Garden pathways paved with white shell materials would invite them to stroll among day lilies and crepe myrtles in spring, the air redolent with heavenly scented flowering magnolias. In the hot summer months there would be roses and oleander, and Cape Jasmine.

Jon’s voice drew me back to the present. “Ashley. How about a short walk before we go back to work?”

“
What?” I asked. I had traveled to another time and place. And as frequently happens to me when working on a restoration project, I found myself bonding with the family that had once called this place home.

17

In January, the light in Wilmington turns to a soft clear yellow that causes the air to shimmer. The famous painter, Claude Howell, who had painted many scenes along the Cape Fear, said that the golden hue of the river tinted the atmosphere.

At lunch on Friday, I looked out the window of The Pilot House restaurant and watched as the elevated section of Memorial Bridge lifted to the top, allowing a large ship to pass through. To the south of us was the Port of Wilmington. And with plans underway, one day we would have a new international deepwater terminal on the Cape Fear at Southport.

Across the table, Melanie was saying to Jackie Hudson, who was seated to my left, “Tell us what happened, Jackie? Ashley and I are so sorry for your troubles. Aren’t we, Ashley? Ashley? Earth to Ashley.”

I pulled my gaze away from the river. “Oh. Sorry, Jackie. Yes, tell us what’s wrong. You and Brian seemed so happy on New Year’s Eve.”

Just then our server brought tall glasses of iced tea. Like everyone else in the South, Melanie and I had been raised on sweet tea, but being weight conscious had made the switch to unsweetened. How I missed sweet tea!

Jackie said, “I just don’t know Brian anymore. He’s a changed man ever since Han Cheng came into his life. He’s been talking to Han’s lawyers in China and he thinks he is going to be taken on as Han’s American legal counsel. To hear Brian tell it these days, you’d think he was going to build that new sea terminal all by himself, single-handedly.”

Melanie squeezed Jackie’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Shug. Brian’s always handled my real estate closings. I’d hate to lose him.”

Jackie rubbed her hands over her face, then leaned on her elbows. “Brian used to have high standards, Melanie. Everyone knows lawyers are on the short end of the stick when it comes to ethics, but Brian used to be most ethical. That was one of the characteristics that attracted me to him.”

“
I know what you mean,” I said. “I know of this lawyer who calls himself a specialist in environmental law. He represents really big clients all over the state. But what he really does is use his knowledge of environmental law to despoil the environment. He’s made a fortune off companies that have raped the land, and violated our air and ground water. Not to mention the wild animals their earth moving equipment has displaced.”

Jackie grabbed my hand. “Oh, Ashley, don’t get me started on that. My degree is in environmental law and protecting the county against predatory builders has been such an uphill battle. They fell the trees and scrape off the top soil, then sell the top soil back to the homeowners in neat small plastic bags. And what big industry is attempting to do will pollute one of our most unspoiled areas.”

“
From my perspective, heavy industry nearby will depreciate property values even more than they have already been depreciated by the sub-prime mortgage scandal,” Melanie said. “So we are reading from the same page on that subject, Jackie. I always knew those brokers with their ‘too good to be true’ deals were frauds. And I steered my buyers away from them. Brian did too.”

“
That was when Brian was still one of the good guys,” Jackie said. “You’re both coming to the New Hanover Environmental Commission’s fund raiser at the Bellamy next Saturday night, aren’t you?” she asked.

“
Jon and I bought our tickets ages ago,” I said. “We’ll be there. We practically live at the Bellamy these days anyhow.”

“
And you know Cam and I will be there,” Melanie said. “Looking forward to it.”

“
I can’t thank you enough for co-chairing this event, Melanie,” Jackie said.

Lunch arrived. I was having a cup of seafood bisque with a lettuce wedge. Melanie and Jackie were served spinach salads. We all partook of the scrumptious corn bread. How could anyone resist that?

“
I thought the shooting of Brian’s uncle in the belvedere would scare people away,” Jackie said. “But we’ve had no cancellations for the party.”

“
I’ve noticed that too,” I said. “Museum visits are up. I guess what they say is true: There is no such thing as bad publicity.”

“
You were telling us about your marital problems,” Melanie said. “And Ashley and I are so sorry this is happening to a sweet couple like you and Brian.”

Jackie set her fork on her plate and gazed at us squarely. She had beautifully sculpted cheek bones and clear golden brown skin. She was a tall woman with a figure that Aunt Ruby would describe as “spare.” But which I referred to as “svelte.”

“
The marriage is over, girls. Brian has moved out. We have grown so far apart, there is no going back. His ambitions have changed him into someone I don’t recognize. He is not the man I married. I’m filing for a divorce.”

“
Oh, Jackie, I’m so sorry,” Melanie said.

“
I am too, Jackie. And Jon will be sad to hear this news,” I said. “We’ll always remember our fun New Year’s Eve with you guys fondly.”

Jackie got a dreamy look on her face. “Yes, that was a special night. We managed to put aside our differences and have a good time together, like in the old days.”

“
Are you planning to keep the house?” Melanie asked. “Or to sell?”

“
It’s too soon to make a decision, Melanie. But you know if I decide to sell, I’ll call you. And we may have to sell in order to divide the property. I’m grateful we did not have children.”

“
Yes,” I murmured, but in my heart I did not agree. If my baby had been born, I would have been happy to raise it alone, husband or no husband.

Jackie went on, “To tell you the truth, in spite of the equitable distribution of marital property laws, Brian is already giving me a hard time about dividing our property fairly. He says I owe him because he paid off my college loans. I tell you, he’s just not the same man anymore. He’s become so greedy since he took up with Han Cheng. I don’t trust the two of them. They bring out the worst in each other. I found some documents that lead me to believe Brian has been transferring funds from the law firm to off-shore accounts. My lawyer has asked a judge to put a freeze on the business accounts so he cannot hide any more cash from me.”

“
Oh, Jackie, no,” I cried.

If Brian was stealing from his wife, he really had changed.

“
Tell me, Jackie, did you ever see those bank notes that Brian claims a purchasing agent sold to East River Bank and that were owed by Dr. Bellamy?”

“
Never,” Jackie said. “But Brian says he has the originals. He told me Citigroup turned over the files to him and they included the original notes.”

“
Still,” I said, “in all the local research on the mansion and how it was built, I’ve never run across a purchasing agent named Thaddeus Greensleeves. Or any other agent, for that matter. But even Binkie says that doesn’t mean the agent did not exist. During the war and the occupation of the mansion, many documents may have been misplaced.” Or stolen, I thought.

“
I don’t understand Candi and Han,” Jackie said. “Candi is dying to own an old Southern mansion as if that will somehow move her into society. And all of that poached ivory on their yacht. It’s shameful. How can those people look at themselves in the mirror? Ivory trading was banned by the Convention on International Trade in Endangered Species in 1989. By 2020, African elephants will be extinct because they are being slaughtered for their tusks. I pointed this out to Brian; tried to show him what kind of people he was dealing with. He merely shrugged.”

Now she was crying, tears running down her face. I scrunched over and put my arm around her shoulders. Melanie grasped her hand. Poor Jackie.

Jackie squared her shoulders. “I’ve reported them to the FBI and Interpol. It might take a while, but one of their investigators will be here soon. I’m not sure what they can do to the Chengs unless law enforcement can prove the Chengs were the traders. Probably, they were the recipients of the traders’ illegal buys.”

“
I’ve already decided to drop Candi Cheng,” Melanie said. “This quest of hers to acquire the Bellamy Mansion will ruin me with the local folk. As much as I need a sale, I cannot afford to alienate my client base here in Wilmington. I have my reputation to think of.”

“
Have you told Candi?” I asked Melanie.

I could just imagine the piercing howls that would come from that whiny woman.

“
Not yet. Right now, I’m just avoiding her and not returning her calls. I’m hoping she and Han will get on their Yacht from Hell and sail far away. But I know I may have to confront her soon.”

As if on cue, a tiny woman with bright red hair entered the restaurant’s dining room. “Ohmygosh! Don’t look now, but there she is!”

“
Where?” Melanie cried, frantically scanning the room. Then she spotted Candi. “Oh, sugar, where can I hide?”

She grabbed a menu from a passing waiter, opened it wide in front of her face, and hid behind it.

Candi walked right by our table, chattering away in her high-pitched unpleasant voice to Vanessa Holder. They didn’t even see Melanie behind the menu. And lord knows both had looked right through me the times we were together, so probably wouldn’t recognize me even if they saw me. They were deeply engrossed with each other.

The two women were seated on the far side of the room. To my relief Candi sat with her back to us.