Murder at the Holiday Flotilla (4 page)

Today Airlie is owned and operated by New Hanover County but the thousands of azaleas and camellias planted by Mrs. Jones still bloom and thrive.

I grabbed my camera from my shoulder bag. This was my babies’ first Christmas outing and I wanted to get some photos of the little darlings before they fell asleep – or worse, began to howl.

We passed through an outdoor room where a very authentic- looking Santa Claus was thrilling the youngsters. I had Jon stand near him with the stroller and I was able to get some great shots that included my boys and the Santa.

“
In a few years, they’ll be up there on his knee,” I said to Jon and kissed him on the cheek just because I was so happy. Then he was off, forging ahead with the stroller and Cam.

We wound around curving paths in the darkness. Silky, warm air wafted in from the ocean. The sky was clear and black and dotted with brilliant stars.

We reached one of the Airlie lagoons where out on the water a musical light show reflected on the water. People crowded the banks of the lagoon to see the musical display of sail boats and a surfin’ Santa, all made of wires and tiny colorful light bulbs. But the crowd was good spirited, kind and courteous. It was a nice crowd, very family oriented, no jostling. Jon and Cam did not attempt to push the stroller to the water’s edge but the others in our little party moved forward when our turn came.

“
Oh, look at that,” Melanie called excitedly, her arm reaching out. And then, without warning, she was lurching forward. She was pitching head first toward the water, her arms flailing as she struggled to regain her balance, and she cried out in alarm.

Binkie who was nearest to her on her left side seized her left arm and broke her fall. I grabbed onto the back of her jacket and together we stabilized her and prevented her from plunging into the lagoon.

She reared back and regained her balance. When her breath returned, she cried, “Somebody pushed me!”

“
Oh, Melanie,” I protested, “this crowd is really nice, very courteous. No one is pushing.”

Still I wheeled about to stare at those standing behind us. A girl of about ten stood behind Melanie, waiting her turn to move to edge of the lagoon. “Is she all right?” the child’s mother asked me.

Melanie turned swiftly, appraising the child and her mother. “Someone pushed me,” Melanie insisted.

The woman gave her a look of alarm. “Well, it wasn’t us!”

“
I know that,” Melanie snapped. “But did you see who it was?”

The woman grew puzzled, sliding her arm around her daughter protectively. “No,” she said defensively. “Although there were some people standing in front of us but they moved away right at about the time you cried out.”

“
What did they look like?” Melanie demanded.

The woman appeared dumbfounded. “Just people. Ordinary people like everyone else.”

She regarded Melanie critically, perhaps wondering if Melanie had been drinking. Or at the very least, was she overreacting? “Come on, Emily,” she said, taking her daughter’s hand and propelling her to the front row to take our places.

Stepping away, we gathered our group together and walked back to the main path. Cam cuddled Melanie and kissed the top of her head. “You’re all right, sweetheart. No harm done.”

Melanie stopped in her tracks and declared in a loud voice, “I know what I felt. I distinctly felt someone’s hands on my back. And then they gave me a hard push.”

She turned to Binkie. “I’m glad you caught me when you did, Binkie. Otherwise I’d have fallen into the water and that bank was steep.”

“
I’m happy I was there for you, Melanie,” Binkie responded, giving her a reassuring hug. “The ground was slippery. We should take that into account. Why would anyone want to hurt you?”

“
Why indeed?” Melanie demanded, angry and puzzled. “You believe me, don’t you, sis?”

“
Of course,” I said. But I did wonder. I had been standing on her right side and I hadn’t seen a thing. But then my attention had been riveted on the light show out on the water.

As we trailed along the path, somewhat dispirited now, Binkie and Aunt Ruby bringing up the rear, he said to her in a low voice, “She pitched forward so suddenly, I don’t see how she could have done that on her own. Perhaps someone did push her. Someone with a malicious streak.”

And as if sensing that the mood had turned nasty, my babies began to howl.

4

“
We just love the Holiday Flotilla,” Aunt Ruby called from the far rear of the car on Saturday evening. “How like our dear Melanie to plan this party for all of us.”

We were packed in our SUV once again, driving out Oleander to the Waterway with two fussy infants strapped into their car seats in the second row, and Aunt Ruby and Binkie seated in the third row seats that could be folded flat or upright as need dictated.

“
I have someone I want you to talk to about your Revolutionary War ancestor,” Binkie called over the whining of the children.

“
Who is that?” I asked, almost shouting to be heard. Jon and I had made a decision that the babies’ fussing was not going to curtail adult conversation. The motion of the car would soon lull them to sleep. Or so I hoped.

“
My former graduate assistant.”

Binkie is Benjamin Higgins, Professor Emeritus at UNCW’s history department. And husband to my deceased mother’s older sister, Ruby Chastain.

“
Roger Craighead’s field is the Colonial period in Southeastern North Carolina. He’ll be able to assist you by researching Samuel Wood for you.”

I turned toward the back of the car. “I had intended to talk to Amy Wood about this but we didn’t get the chance. Do you think your colleague would be willing to help?”

Jon concentrated on his driving, trying to tune out the fretting from the backseat. “Go to sleep, boys,” he called authoritatively over his shoulder. The whining only got louder. When one cried, the other one joined in. Their misery seemed to feed off each other’s.

And then all of a sudden, the wailing stopped. Pure, blessed silence filled the car.

“
Finally,” Jon said, his last nerve chewed to shreds. Mine too.

Binkie picked up the thread of the conversation. “Roger will do it if I ask him. If it were not for me, he would not have been granted a faculty position. He owes me and he knows it. Not that he isn’t qualified in his field. Published, you know. But my recommendation was instrumental to his appointment. He’s a hard worker and ambitious.”

Binkie had furthered the careers of many young historians.

“
Bring him over for drinks one evening next week,” I invited. Although I could not partake of cocktails, not while nursing, that did not prevent me from entertaining others, which I heartily enjoy doing.

We turned right onto Airlie Road, then got caught in the traffic jam outside the entrance to the Airlie Gardens Christmas light show. But it didn’t take long and soon we were through and on our way, passing the service road to the gardens. We drove past the turn off for Bradley Creek Road, then hung a sharp right into Melanie’s private driveway where we cruised alongside the Intracoastal Waterway. Ahead, the lodge rose up in the black night, illuminated by spotlights that highlighted the square Italianate tower.

Already many of the guests had arrived but the parking valet had saved us a spot at the front door, having been instructed by Melanie that we had babies and their accoutrements to unload. Two white marble Great Danes guarded the lodge’s entrance, each now decked out in whimsical red stocking hats. Cam, dressed in a thick pullover sweater, was watching for us and came bounding out to greet us and to help carry the little darlings, now blessedly sound asleep, into the lodge.

Melanie had specified casual dress. Suited me just fine because about all I can get into these days are sweat suits. My pants require elastic waists and my tops have to be stretchy to accommodate my full breasts. When I get discouraged about my figure, Jon encourages me, assuring me my waist will soon dwindle to its former small size. And my breasts? Well, he’s a man, isn’t he?

So to make it through this plump period, I purchased a few pretty sweat suits – happy colors and nicely designed in plush fabrics like velour and the softest cotton knit. With makeup and jewelry and ballerina flats, I didn’t look too bad for a sleep-deprived, strung-out, new mommy.

I followed Cam and Jon inside, strolling over flagstones through the great arched entrance into a reception hall that extended past a broad oak staircase and led back to the Waterway side of the house. Garlands of greenery were draped from the far corners of the hall to the center of the ceiling, capping an enormous wrought iron chandelier.

The house was festive and full of people; merry voices filled the rooms, laughter, conversations, holiday music in the background. I smiled to myself. A party! I love parties.

Melanie and Cam’s home is an old hunting lodge that was built during the Gilded Age of the late nineteenth century. Jon and I restored it last year, completing the project in time for us to hold our double wedding reception here. We had outdone ourselves with this restoration, if I do say so myself. The old lodge had been falling apart. Holes in the roof that let in rain. Anybody with a truck, a screw driver, and the inclination could drive up the overgrown lane and raid the place of irreplaceable valuables. And many had felt the inclination. It took Jon and me and two teams of craftsmen almost a year to bring things back to close to their original state.

But now it was perfect. Better than the original.

The two Lindas came out to welcome us: Linda Linares, the party planner, who put this event together, and Linda Price who had decorated.

“
Oh, Linda, I love your decorations,” I said. “And your new hair cut.”

Linda ruffled her short hair with her fingers and smiled. “I decided to go with the Biltmore House theme since Melanie’s lodge is from the same period and looks so much like Biltmore.”

“
Well, everything looks perfect,” I said. “Where have my babies disappeared to?”

Linda Linares replied, “Melanie asked me to hire a sitter. And even thought it was last minute I managed to hire a college student from the University. She’ll watch your babies in one of the upstairs bedrooms. Your husband and Cam are on their way up there now with the babies.”

“
Oh, good,” I sighed. “Now I can relax and enjoy the party.”

Linda Linares led me into the drawing room where huge Christmas trees filled the far two corners.

“
Wherever did Linda Price find those tall trees?” I wondered aloud. The ceiling in the drawing room is sixteen feet high and the trees just about reached the top.

Linda Linares beamed. “I don’t know. The girl’s a wizard. Ooops, duty calls. Gotta go.”

Where was Melanie? I still had not seen our hostess. Just then she came into the drawing room, dressed in a pair of beautifully tailored and fitted black slacks, black croc high heels, and a red cashmere sweater set with a string of pearls. Not all redheads can wear bright red but Melanie can. Melanie can get away with just about anything!

Melanie was escorting a man from group to group, introducing him to everyone as if he were a celebrity. There was something familiar about the man. I had seen him before but couldn’t quite place him.

“
Oh, there you are, shug,” Melanie called, heading my way, the mystery man in tow.

He was about sixty, and his style was straight out of the Fabulous Fifties: Buddy Holly horn rim glasses, Gary Moore crew cut and bow tie. All of a sudden I knew who he was.

“
Ashley, I’d like you to meet one of our state’s most important senatorial leaders, Senator Buddy Henry. Senator Henry is an ally of realtors and developers especially here at the coast.” Then Melanie prompted me with a little nudge of her elbow, not trusting that I would make the correct association. “Ashley’s one of your biggest fans, Buddy. She’s always saying how proud the folks of Brunswick County must be to have you for their state senator. Don’t you always say that, shug?”

Senator Henry stuck out his hand and what could I do but shake it. “Nice to meet you, Ashley. You must be proud of this lady here. I’m looking forward to working with her as soon as she takes over the NCAR in January.” He beamed at Melanie. “Between the two of us, we’re going to get some much needed projects off the drawing board and into the money column.”

I wondered what projects he was referring to. Melanie had said nothing to me, but then probably she would not have. Henry was much too conservative for my tastes, one of those politicians whose philosophy was that big business could regular itself, that a free market place would ensure they operated ethically, not cut corners, preserve the environment, pay workers more than minimum wage, yada yada. I didn’t buy into his flimflam. Either he was very, very naive, or the developers had bought, paid for, and now owned his soul.

I already knew enough about him to feel glad he did not represent my district. Wait until I get Melanie aside, I told myself, I’ll give her an ear full about the cruel enterprise Senator Henry is operating on rural farmland.

Eager not to get into a political discussion with him, I gave Melanie a hug. “Where’s Spunky? I’ve seen nothing of him.”

“
Oh, off hiding somewhere.”