Murder at the Holiday Flotilla (11 page)

Television news broadcasts around the state were reporting on the senator’s untimely and inexplicable death. Questions were being raised about what the senator might have been doing inside an unoccupied, for-sale house. And some of the gossipy types of newscasters were speculating that he might have had a personal relationship with Melanie – whom they referred to as Mrs. Cameron Jordan to further imply an impropriety.

“
With all of the attention now focused on his office, the medical examiner is moving swiftly to arrive at cause of death. And the toxicology report will be processed as speedily as possible.”

Melanie bestowed the lieutenant, and Walt, with one of her dazzling smiles, the kind that ordinarily causes men’s hearts to falter. “Lieutenant, could you please get the press to call off the dogs? Tell them to lay off? They are ripping my reputation to shreds, hinting at all sorts of unseemly and inappropriate goings on.”

She pressed the splayed fingers of her right hand over her heart. “I’m married to the state’s most prominent television and motion picture producer. Imagine how embarrassing this is for my husband. And for me. I am about to be installed as the president of the North Carolina Association of Realtors. My reputation is impeccable, otherwise my fellow realtors would not have elected me to represent them.”

Lieutenant Edmunds folded his arms across his chest, hearing her out. Melanie was more than he had bargained for. “I’ve heard of you by reputation, Mrs. Jordan.”

“
Ms. Wilkes. I’m known as Ms. Wilkes. And my sister is known as Ms. Wilkes. We are professional women.”

“
Of course,” the lieutenant said. “And I know of your husband, Cameron Jordan, as well. And, as you say, so far as I know, your reputations are impeccable. But it’s not only the press who are bringing pressure to bear, it’s political organizations as well. And the governor’s office, and members of the General Assembly.”

Melanie stared up at him with flashing green eyes. “But put yourself in our shoes, Lieutenant. Can you imagine how destructive these rumors are to my husband’s profession?” Melanie asked, managing to project justifiable outrage. “And for mine? Why that man chose to die in a house I have listed for sale has nothing to do with us.”

“
What do want to ask these ladies?” Walt asked in a friendly tone.

“
Are you representing both of them?”

“
I’m not aware that they need representing, Sol. I’m just here as a family friend. Their father . . . and I’m sure you remember Peter Wilkes . . .”

The lieutenant nodded. “Of course, we all thought the world of Judge Wilkes.”

“
. . . was a good friend of mine. I’m here to guide his daughters through the process. Nothing more.”

Even I began to relax. Walt had a way of making you believe there was nothing he couldn’t handle and that everything was going to turn out all right.

The lieutenant’s grip on his upper arms tightened perceptibly. Then he took a deep breath while lowering his arms and resting his hands on the desk top.

“
Okay, ladies, just walk me through yesterday. Tell me about entering the house, and how and when you discovered Senator Henry. Who wants to start?”

“
I will,” I said. Still wanting to protect Melanie from Jack McAllister’s wrath I thought that if I spilled the beans, she could always tell him it had been me who revealed his presence there. She would be off the hook.

And so without embellishments, as Walt had advised, I described driving out to Bradley Creek with Melanie, of meeting Jack McAllister there – at which point both Lieutenant Edmunds’s and Walt’s eyes widened – and then went on to describe entering the house.

Moving quickly for such a large man, Lieutenant Edmunds cornered his desk and settled heavily in his chair. “I think I need to record this,” he said, reaching for a small tape recorder. “Any objections, Walt?”

“
None whatsoever. My clients have nothing to hide.”

“
Clients?” Edmunds arched his eyebrows as if vaguely amused.

With the tape recorder running, I continued my tale of exploring the house with Melanie and Jack. Of how the three of us had remained together until Melanie’s phone rang and Jack entered the master bedroom alone. Of how he had yelled for us to come at once.

“
We saw that something was wrong with the senator,” I said.

“
Wait a minute. You recognized him right away? You knew who he was?” the lieutenant asked.

“
Yes, we both know him. I met him Saturday night. He was a guest at Melanie’s flotilla party.”

“
Let me understand.” He turned to Melanie. “You socialized with Senator Henry?”

“
No, I wouldn’t characterize our association that way. It’s a business relationship. I’ve met him a couple of time at realtors’ conventions and political fundraisers. This was the first time I’d invited him to a party.”

I interjected, “We called 9-1-1 as soon as we found him and saw that he was . . . having some sort of medical emergency. The firemen came and the paramedics. And then Nick . . . that is Detective Yost . . . came. You know the rest,” I finished.

“
No, actually, I don’t,” the lieutenant said firmly. “I don’t know why McAllister did not remain, why he left.”

I pressed my lips together. “You’ll have to ask him that.”

Walt intervened, “I think that is a question best addressed to Mr. McAllister.”

“
I intend to.” Then the lieutenant focused his attention on Melanie. “Ms. Wilkes, do you have anything to add to your sister’s statement? Do you agree this is way the events transpired?”

“
Yes, my sister Ashley described finding Senator Henry exactly as it happened. But I do have something to add.”

She gave Walt a warning glance. She wanted him prepared for what came next.

“
As Ashley said, we both hardly know – knew Senator Henry. However, he is also a client. I showed him the house yesterday morning.”

“
You showed him the house?” the lieutenant asked slowly. “You took him into the house?”

Melanie nodded her assent.

“
You’ll have to speak up.”

“
Yes,” she said then repeated loudly for the tape recorder, “yes.”

“
Tell me about that? How did the senator appear? Was he short of breath? Stressed? Did you notice anything out of the ordinary?”

“
I didn’t notice anything unusual. I met him there at the house at nine a.m. I showed him through the house. He had no trouble climbing the stairs. He seemed fine.”

“
And then what happened?”

“
He admired the house but admitted it was out of his price range. I couldn’t help wondering why he was wasting my time, if you must know. But in my business you see all kinds,” Melanie answered.

“
And did he leave with you?”

“
He did. I saw him get into his car and drive away. I stayed behind to lock the front door.”

“
So the house was secure when you left?” Lieutenant Edmunds asked.

“
I believed that it was secure, but when I was showing Jack and my sister around, I went to unlatch a sliding glass door only to discover that it was already unlatched.”

“
And you believe that is how Senator Henry entered the house again.”

Melanie looked defenseless and I reached out to grasp her hand and comfort her.

“
I don’t know.”

Walt said, “Ms. Wilkes wasn’t there when the senator re-entered the house. She doesn’t know how he gained access.”

“
One final question, Ms. Wilkes. Do you know why Mr. McAllister left the scene before the first responders arrived?”

Melanie compressed her lips and glanced up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. Maybe he had an important meeting.”

“
Ed, if there is nothing else, I’ve got appointments, and these ladies have obligations as well.”

Walt stood, terminating the interview. Melanie and I stood up as well.

Before departing, Walt said, “Ed, I trust that as soon as you have the autopsy report and the cause of death report, you will be good enough to share them with me before the press gets onto them. The late judge’s daughters’ reputations are on the line.”

“
If I can, Walt, I will. All depends on what the medical examiner finds. Thank you for coming in, ladies.” And the lieutenant buzzed his clerk to show us out of the maze that was Wilmington’s Police Department’s headquarters.

But as we were leaving, the lieutenant said, “By the way, Ms. Wilkes, what kind of car was the senator driving when you met him at nine?”

Melanie paused to think. “A dark red Ford Explorer. I remember thinking that the senator was smart to be driving an American-made car.”

Out on the sidewalk, Walt told us, “Do not talk to anyone unless I am there with you. As soon as we have the autopsy report we’ll know what we are dealing with here. Until then, you both need to keep a low profile. If the lieutenant contacts you again – if anyone from law enforcement contacts you, and that includes Nick, Ashley, call me at once.”

Melanie drove me home. As we drove, I gazed out of the car window, reviewing in my mind our statements to the lieutenant. “Everyone’s putting up Christmas decorations,” I said sadly. “Here this is supposed to be the happiest time of my life – I’ve got the man of my dreams and two precious, healthy babies – and it’s their first Christmas, for pity sakes. But what am I involved in? The unexplained death of a politician I didn’t even like!”

Melanie reached over to grasp my hand. “Don’t be sad, little sis. We’ll get through this and come out smelling like roses. We always do. I, for one, am not going to even think about Senator Henry and his untimely death. Just put it out of your mind. Like me.”

“
I’ll try,” I said.

We turned west on Nun and pulled into the second driveway on the right. My house. My lovingly restored 1860 Queen Anne Victorian house that had been built for a Quaker minister and his family before the Civil War. Crossing the front porch, I noticed again the plaque from the Wilmington Historical Foundation. “Reverend Israel Barton House,” it read, and then the date, “1860.”

As we climbed the front porch steps, Melanie called, “Cam’s here. His van is out there on the street,” and she pointed to a dark blue Lexus SUV parked at the curb under a low branch of a live oak tree.

The first greeting I got as I opened my front door was the fragrance of pine. I followed my nose and the sound of male voices back to the red library, the hub of our home. Sitting on matching leather sofas across from each other were our men.

“
Oh, how adorable,” Melanie said from behind me. “I’ve got to get a picture of this.” And she dug in her shoulder bag for her camera.

“
How did it go?” Cam asked.

“
Don’t ask,” she replied. “It was dreadful. We’ll talk about it later. Let’s not spoil this moment.”

I shared her pleasure in the moment. Jon held one baby on his lap; Cam held the other. Each was feeding a child from a bottle and the babies were sucking greedily. A breast pump had come into my life along with all of the other baby paraphernalia.

There was no missing the huge, fragrant Christmas tree that dominated one corner. It was strung with fairy lights but the other decorations remained unpacked in boxes strewn around the room.

“
So that’s what I smell!” I cried with delight. “Where did this come from? I didn’t think we were decorating this year,” I told Jon.

“
You can thank your thoughtful brother-in-law,” Jon said, and hoisted little Jonathan – or was it Peter? – onto his shoulder to burp.

“
Cam? You brought us a tree?” I gave Cam a broad smile. What a nice guy? No wonder I love him so much.

Melanie was busily snapping pictures of the men caring for the babies.

“
It’s beautiful,” I said. “You must have bought the biggest tree on the lot.”

“
It’s about twelve feet,” Cam said proudly.

I bent over him and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “No wonder Melanie adores you. I do too.”

Cam gave Melanie a dreamy look. Then he looked down at little Peter – or was it Jonathan? “I want one of these,” he told her.

And I thought Melanie was going to faint dead away.

12

According to tradition, the first weekend in December is reserved for the Olde Wilmington by Candlelight festival when historic homes are decorated in period style and put on tour. Ordinarily Jon and I would visit homes on both days even if, this year, it meant wheeling a double stroller. But Saturday was one of Dr. Amy Wood’s infrequent days off. On Sundays she volunteered at the Pediatric Trauma Center at New Hanover Regional Hospital.

Saturday morning found us driving back out into Brunswick County to visit her historic house.

As we drove up the rutted, sandy lane and approached the house, all was quiet. I stepped down from the Escalade and paused a moment to enjoy the stillness, only some breezes in the longleaf pines stirring the tree tops.

“
To think that my ancestors settled this land and lived here for generations. And I knew nothing about them. It’s hard to believe,” I told Jon.

“
I can understand how this is hitting you emotionally. Melanie too. My roots are in Robeson County. I grew up hearing about the Campbell clan and how we emigrated from Scotland. We need to drive up there soon to visit Granny Campbell. She just about raised me, you know.”