Murder at the Bellamy Mansion (23 page)

“
Of course, I told Jon. Jon checked him out. He does not work for the party rental company. We don’t know who he is. What do you suppose this means?” I asked my friend.

“
This means you have got to be more careful. Lucky for you, you’ve got me here now to look out for you, same as I taught you New York street smarts when you arrived in New York City, as green as a pea.”

She had done that.

Then, finally, we were at the tenth card.

“
And at last, the Final Outcome,” Kiki said. “But, of course, nothing is ever final. This card represents what you will find in your near future.”

With much trepidation, I turned the card over.

“
Persephone. The High Priestess. Queen of the Underworld,” Kiki said. “I told you I saw disaster. Persephone ate the pomegranate and lost her innocence. She harbors many dark secrets but she does not ever speak of them. She reveals nothing. From her dark world, glimpses of her true self are rarely revealed.”

“
But who is she?” I asked.

Kiki shrugged massive shoulders. “That is not for me to say. Only you know the answer.”

“
But I don’t know,” I pleaded.

28

“
I can’t wait for you to see what we’ve accomplished in the belvedere,” I told Kiki as Jon drove us north on Third Street.

“
Do they really call it a belvedere?” Kiki asked from the back seat. “Not a cupola or an observatory?”

“
Well, technically, a cupola is round. Ours is rectangular in shape. And yes, at times it is referred to as the observatory. As you know, often times there can be more than one name for an architectural feature. Just like the porch is sometimes called the porch. Or the colonnade. Or the portico. Or the piazza.”

“
I prefer piazza,” Kiki said.

“
So do I,” I agreed. “The name makes me think of soft breezes playing with hanging ferns.”

“
You are such a romantic. Isn’t she, Jon?”

“
I love her that way,” he said, and gave me a fond glance and a wink. There is no holding back Kiki, that glance said.

At Market Street, we turned east. “And there’s the mansion ahead,” Kiki said. “I remember this place from your rehearsal dinner. It’s so big and white, how can you miss it?”

Jon drove by the Kenan Fountain, continued on Market, then made a quick U-turn around the median, and back to the Bellamy Mansion. He pulled into the parking lot and parked in one of the slots reserved for staff.

“
Here we are.”

We got out of the Escalade and followed the walkway through the hedge. The sun was warm. The magnolias were lush. Even in winter, the garden was green.

I had planned to check in with the volunteers in the Gift Shop to let them know that we were on the site, and that we would be going inside the mansion.

“
Wonder what’s going on,” I speculated. The volunteers and the staff were assembled outside.

The group of about seven had gathered in the rear yard. They had formed a tight knot, surrounding something or someone. They were all talking at once, all chattering excitedly.

Jon, Kiki, and I drew nearer.

“
What’s going on?” I asked one of the volunteers I knew by face but not by name.

“
The police are on their way,” she said loudly. “It’s just awful. How could this happen?”

And indeed, sirens could be heard coming from a distance. Their sound had become all too familiar. It was as if emergency sirens had become the background music of my life.

“
But what happened?” Jon shouted over the raised voices.

Kiki had a strange look on her face, fatalistic, expecting the worst.

“
The site manager came out to drain the cistern,” the volunteer explained. “You know how it fills up after a few rainy days.”

The cistern had once been a functioning source of non-drinking water for the house. Rain water was caught by the gutters and downspouts, and drained underground into the cistern.

The volunteer went on, “When he dragged the stone slab off the opening, and reached in to pull up the pump, he saw a body floating in the water. The cistern is quite full after these rainy days. And somehow, someone fell in and drowned. He came running inside and called 911. How could someone fall into the cistern?”

And if they fell in, I asked myself, how did they pull the stone slab back over the opening?

Fire trucks arrived and in seconds the rear yard was overrun with big, burly firemen who looked like they spent every free moment lifting weights.

“
Get back, folks! Get back!” the man the others called Captain was shouting. “Y’all wait for us over there.” And he motioned to the gift shop.

“
Guess we’d better go back inside,” the volunteer said. “You can come in and wait with us, Ashley.”

“
OK,” I said. “We’re coming.”

But I had other ideas.

“
Come on,” I said to Jon and Kiki, and sidestepped around the advancing crowd. I made my way toward the open basement door of the mansion.

Jon and Kiki caught up. “Where are we going?” Jon asked.

Kiki was strangely silent.

“
Shush,” I said. “Walk slowly. Just act normal, like we have every right to go inside.”

I led us down the steps and across the sheltered area way under the porch. One of the tarps lay in a heap at the side of the door. Casually, we strolled through the open doorway.

“
We’ll go upstairs,” I said.

“
I don’t remember seeing this when I was here,” Kiki said. “Wow! Talk about giving off vibes. This area sure does.”

I led us through the former kitchen, to the stairs. We took the stairs to the first floor which was unoccupied, everyone being outside.

“
We’ll be able to see everything from the back porch,” I said.

We walked through the hallway without anyone challenging us. Stepping out onto the back porch, we moved to the louvered panels that sheltered one side of the porch.

“
Good idea,” Jon said, and parted the louvers just wide enough for us to see out but hopefully not be seen by the firemen. We had a clear view down into the rear yard.

The firemen were leaning over the open cistern. Immediately, they were joined by uniformed police officers. The ambulance pulled into the parking lot, sirens warbling, and parked right at the opening in the hedge. The doors flew open and they jumped out, then dragged equipment out of the rear.

“
Oh, look, there’s Nick.”

“
Where? Where?” Kiki asked.

I pointed.

“
And Diane Sherwood,” Jon said.

The first responders and the homicide detectives consulted with each other. Then the group parted, making way for one of the firemen who had a coil of thick rope looped over his arm.

“
He’s going in,” Jon said.

We now had a clear view of the open cistern.

“
I can see something,” I said. “Can you?”

“
I see red hair!” Kiki gasped.

Red hair spread on the surface of the water. The cistern was not wide in circumference. The body was floating upright.

Kiki gasped again. “That hair is just like Melanie’s. That can’t be Melanie down there!” She turned to me, eyes wide, full of fear.

“
Oh, no,” Jon said, shaking his head.

“
No. No. That can’t be Melanie,” I said. “Melanie is with Ray and Scarlett. They’re out at Wrightsville Beach. I saw them leave.”

Kiki heaved a huge sigh of relief. “You’re right. I saw them leave too. It’s just that . . . that’s her hair color. How many people have hair that color?”

I could think of only one. Jon and I exchanged knowing glances before turning back to watch the drama below us.

The fireman lowered himself into the water. I was able to see his head but I could not see exactly what he was doing. Tying the rope around the body, I assumed.

In a minute, he was motioning to the other firemen. Then they were hauling the body out of the water. It did not take much effort; the body was very small. The body of a woman with a child’s stature.

They laid her out on the sunny concrete.

“
It’s her,” I said. “It’s Candi Cheng.”

29

The next morning, after a sleepless night during which I tossed and turned and saw visions of Candi Cheng, sopping wet and dead, laid out on the sunny concrete, Jon called to me from the library. “Ashley, come in here quick!”

Quick? I couldn’t move quickly if my life depended on it. I was in a fog. I picked up my coffee mug and poked along like a zombie into the library.

“
What?” I grumbled.

Jon was standing before the flat screen television we had attached to the wall. He had slept soundly while I had tossed and turned. How does he do it?

“
There’s news,” he cried. “This guy is saying Candi Cheng’s drowning was an accident.”

A local TV journalist was interviewing a man.

“
Who is he?” I asked.

“
Local security officer. Sssshh and listen.”

A balding man of about fifty was saying, “I have a small security company. I’m hired to handle special situations. The Bellamy Museum folks hired me to figure out why their alarm kept going off during the night. No break-ins could be discovered, although there were items pilfered. The alarm system technicians verified the alarm was working properly.”

The interviewer started to interrupt as they so often do, but the man forged ahead. “So acting on a hunch that someone must be hiding inside the mansion until after hours when the house was locked up and the alarm set, I began staking out the place at night.”

“
And what happened when you were on your stake out last night?” the interviewer asked.

“
Sure ‘nuff, I saw a light dancing around inside the mansion, coming from that first floor formal room. I called the police and they moved in quietly. See, they had been alerted about the problem. So me and some uniforms drew our guns, and we climbed up those big front porch steps, e-e-asy as you please, real quiet like.

“
I had the key card in my hand. I slid it into the slot. That released the lock on the front door. But it didn’t set off the alarm. Not yet. Not until we were in position. We kicked that door open and stormed in there. Took the intruder completely by surprise.”

The interviewer was on the edge of her chair. “What was he doing?”

The security officer beamed. He was experiencing his fifteen minutes of fame and loving every minute. “The guy was up on a step ladder. Just about fell off when he saw us. Had a big wire cutter and was about to cut down the chandelier. You know, that big brass chandelier that hangs in the parlor. The one that used to burn gas.”

“
The gasolier?”

“
Yes, ma’am, that’s the one. The chandelier that they showed on that TV show they did on the mansion. The one that historic preservationist said was worth eighteen thousand dollars.”

“
He was trying to steal a chandelier?” the interviewer asked.

“
Yes, ma’am. He owned up to everything. Seemed real proud of what he had gotten away with. A thin, wiry guy of about forty. Couldn’t help bragging about how he’d fooled folks.”

The security officer was so excited, he couldn’t sit still or hold his hands still. He fidgeted and waved his hands around in the air as he went on.

“
See, this is what he’d do. He’d go into the mansion like a tourist, take one of those self-guided tours so he’d have the key card and be on his own. Then he’d take a picture of an antique. Post it on eBay and when he got a buyer, he’d go into the mansion and hide until nightfall. Then he’d come out, steal the piece, leave. But he’d set off the alarm. But what did he care? He was long gone by the time the police arrived. And it would look like a false alarm.”

The interviewer smiled at him encouragingly. “Until you figured out what was happening.”

The security officer beamed again. “Hard to fool old Jake. I’ve been in this business since I was a kid. Seen it all.”

The interviewer said importantly, “But you made another discovery while you were surveilling the Bellamy Mansion last night, didn’t you? Tell us about what you discovered.”

“
Well, you know, they done found that lady drowned in that cistern. And they are trying to figure out if it was murder or an accident. Well, based on what I saw, it was an accident. What that woman was during there at night, I can’t imagine. But she must of fell into that cistern.”

“
Tell us why you believe this, Jake. What you saw,” the interviewer invited.

The security officer parsed his words dramatically. “I was creeping around at the back of the mansion, keeping a low profile. I noticed that big stone slab that covers the cistern was kinda half off the hole. I thought to myself, that’s not safe. So I eased the thing back in place. I had to be real quiet about it so the perp in the house wouldn’t hear me. But I got that cistern covered up.”

“
And you did not look down into the cistern as you replaced the slab, did you?”