Murder on the Cape Fear (13 page)

“
Agreed,” I said firmly. “And Jon and Cam can help.”

14

The deck at the Bridge Tender Restaurant faces east on Motts Channel. The sun was setting behind us, painting the water a lively pink. White yachts anchored at the marina reflected the fiery sunset as well, their swaths of glass mirroring the sun blindingly. Across the channel, Blue Water Restaurant was doing a brisk business on their palm-studded deck. A gorgeous evening, much too lush and vital to befit the ending of the day when murder had been committed.

Over Kiss Martinis for the girls - Vodka and Baileys with cinnamon and sugar on the rim, kind of like getting dessert and an alcoholic kick at the same time - and Surfer Martinis - vodka with rum - for the boys, we talked the murder to death: no pun intended.

“
Did you know Patsy Pogue?” I asked Candy.

Candy did a causal flip of her perfectly manicured and bejeweled white hand. “Oh, everybody knew Patsy. I don’t think there’s a woman’s club in this state that has not had her as a guest of honor at one time or another. And I’ve bumped into her at fund raisers, weddings, that type event.”

I wanted to ask how the luncheon guests managed to understand anything she said but I have been raised not to speak ill of the dead. Besides, many people find that kind of Beverly Hillbillies speak colorful. Instead I asked, “What’s the story on her husband? He rarely said a word.”

I omitted a description of how I’d seen Jimmy Pogue jumping into his truck and taking off while Patsy lay dead in my gazebo. I had told the police; let them deal with it. I was also curious to know if they had found fingerprints on the knife handles.

Candy’s husband Bo said, “Ah, Jimmy Pogue. Now that’s an interesting story. At one time he wrote a scholarly book on the fall of Ft. Fisher. A prestigious accomplishment, but not many takers. So when Patsy won all those awards that year, Jimmy threw himself into building her career. I understand he writes the more factual and difficult sections of her books, although he never gets credit.”

“
Something like a king builder,” Candy said, then laughed. “Or rather a queen builder.”

“
You must have known Jimmy pretty well,” I said to Bo.

A pleasure craft motored slowly by, its gentle wake lapping the pilings. Bo leaned back comfortably in his white vinyl chair.

“
I knew him at Chapel Hill. He was an older student, a Vietnam vet. We graduated the same year. Both history majors. He was the scholar though, said he was going to teach one day. Which means a Ph.D. I don’t think he ever got one. I took history because I like it. I always knew I’d take over my daddy’s car dealership so I wasn’t preparing for a career.”

“
I just don’t understand who would want to kill Patsy,” Candy said.

I wanted to say everyone who knew her, but kept my mouth shut.

Cam looked like he might repeat the disagreeable conversation he’d had with her when she had tried to persuade him to develop her books into a TV series, but must have thought better of it for he kept silent as well.

Melanie said, “Well, she sure fooled me. I thought she had money but Ashley overheard Patsy and Jimmy talking and he said they were out of money and that her editor had passed on her last manuscript. Yet she kept telling me she had the money to buy a large house downtown. Otherwise, I would have never included the Pogues in my investors’ weekend.”

“
Enough of this talk of murder,” I said. “I’m hungry and I don’t want my dinner spoiled with talk of Patsy. She was hard enough to take in life.”

Unkind of me? Perhaps. But I was tired and hungry and therefore cranky.

“
Yes, let’s order,” Melanie said. “This murder has nothing to do with us. It was a family matter.”

“
Family?” Bo asked. “You mean you think Jimmy killed Patsy? Some of those veterans do have problems.”

“
Enough,” Jon said with finality. “Ashley’s been through a lot lately. Too much for anyone to handle. But she’s coping. Aren’t you, sugar?” he asked, and lifted my hand off the table to kiss it.

This man was to die for! His reaction when he first saw me had been similar to Melanie’s earlier expression of love. He’d grabbed me and pulled me to him fiercely and growled how grateful he was that I had not entered the house while the murderer was there.

I gave him an adoring look but took my hand back and used it to open the menu. Uhmmm, everything sounded so good! “Oh, look! Prosciutto Wrapped Salmon.” I read the description from the menu aloud. “Salmon steak wrapped in prosciutto, topped with mozzarella cheese and a sweet balsamic reduction. Served with sautéed spinach with grape tomatoes and garlic-mashed potatoes. This one’s for me. Prosciutto reminds me of Italy. Jon and I were there last November,” I said for Candy and Bo’s benefit and to steer the topic away from Patsy’s death. “The most marvelous place on this earth, outside of home.”

Italy was where Jon had proposed.

“
I agree,” Bo said. “Candy and I were there last summer. We can’t wait to go back.”

Bo was a husky guy with spiky white blonde hair. Kind of an aging surfer type. I wondered if he still surfed. I knew from Jon that he dived.

“
My friend and I took his boat out this morning and dived off Southport. He knows just where the Kate is sunk. Gee, that was exciting, to swim around the remains of that old steamer. She was one of the blockade runners, you know.”

“
Jon and I have discovered her too,” Cam said. “She’s got a bad reputation, did you know?”

“
Well, sure,” Bo said. “I know all about the blockade runners.”

“
Then you know it was the Kate that brought the Yellow Fever epidemic to Wilmington,” Cam said.

“
Well . . .” Bo didn’t look too sure of himself. It’s a man thing, this need to one up the next guy. But he confessed, “Actually, no, I didn’t know that. Guess I was out partying the day they covered that one in class. So what’s the story?”

“
Sailors on board the Kate were infected with Yellow Fever and brought it to Wilmington. Later, when the authorities figured out how the disease was transmitted, they quarantined all ships before allowing them into port,” Jon explained. “Yellow Jack wiped out fifteen percent of Wilmington’s population,” he added.

Cam said, “A few months later, the Kate was making another run into Wilmington. She had just crossed the Western bar at Old Inlet when she hit an obstruction in the Cape Fear and sank. Jon and I like to go down and swim around what’s left of her. Kind of eerie.”

Melanie looked at Cam with pride. “And how do you know all that, my California boy?”

Cam beamed, the way he does when Melanie lavishes affection on him. He is so transparent. “I’ve been reading up on local history. Might make a good documentary.”

Not to be one-upped, Bo said with a chuckle, “By the way, did you know that this guarding of the sand bar stuff is where the term ‘bartender’ originated. Ha, isn’t that a good one?”

He continued, “I understand there was nothing left on board the Kate when she went down. According to my friend, the cargo was salvaged before she sank. Wonder if she was carrying gold for the Confederacy? Gold from the sale of cotton and tobacco, you know, intended for the Confederate army. That’s how they paid the soldiers, when they could: half gold, half Confederate currency.” He kind of grimaced. “And everyone knows the fate of Confederate currency.”

“
You hoping to find gold?” Cam asked.

“
Sure. Doesn’t everyone who dives?”

“
If you did find it, it would belong to the state,” Jon said. “Anything found within the three mile limit belongs to the state. So it wouldn’t do you any good. Maybe get you a write-up in the paper. Your fifteen minutes of fame.” He grinned.

Jon has a grin that makes me want to throw my arms around him and kiss him.

Bo shrugged indifferently. “Well, sure, I guess if you were sucker enough to report that you’d found gold. If you’ve got a big mouth. But keep your discovery to yourself, and you get to keep the gold.” He lowered his sunglasses and gave Candy a wink. Like her, he seemed very sure of himself.

Melanie stuck a pin in his balloon. “There isn’t any gold down there.”

“
Sure there is,” Bo argued.

“
No, there isn’t,” I said. You couldn’t be a good friend of Binkie’s and not know a few facts about local history. I went on to explain, “When a blockade runner was sinking, the first thing the sailors did was save the cargo. And the first cargo to be put onto a launch and sent ashore was gold. You have to remember, those sailors were paid in gold. They were not part of the military; they were mostly privateers. Why, the blockade runners were not even armed. They never shot back when attacked by a Union Navy vessel. To do so would have got them a death sentence.

“
They carried the gold in kegs, like beer. Heavy, but it would go into the launch and they’d sail it over to Ft. Fisher or Federal Point or Smithville. Do you think they’d let the Union Navy get their hands on that gold? Those sailors would die first.”

“
But,” Bo argued, “maybe they’d sink it first too. And it’s still down there if you know where to look.”

“
OK, fellas, the only gold that interests me is the kind I can buy at Tiffany’s. Let’s order. I’m with Ashley, I’m starved.”

And we all laughed and Bo signaled to the waiter. But he got a dreamy expression on his face, and said, “Nineteenth century gold sovereigns are more valuable than watered-down Tiffany’s gold.”

15

I gave Binkie a hug and kiss. He is so cute. No wonder Aunt Ruby fell for him - twice.

After we had finished eating dinner, Melanie had dashed back to speak to the special event planner about holding our bridesmaids’ luncheon at the restaurant. “The Bridge Tender is Faye Brock’s favorite restaurant,” she’d told us. “And I’ve asked her to be a bridesmaid. So we’ll hold the luncheon here to please her because she’s such a sweetheart.”

Then she left us and that gave me time to have dessert before she returned to whisk me away to Binkie’s in her red Mercedes convertible. We kissed the boys goodnight and drove back to town. My car and my van were both parked downtown, my van still at the Captain’s house. I’d pick it up later and drive out to Jon’s for another night. As much as I love spending the night with him and as fond as I am of his house, I found myself longing to get back into my own home and felt impatience building. I wanted to get to work cleaning up the mess Patsy and Jimmy had left, and to experience the luxury of living in my own space with my own possessions again.

On the drive, something alarming occurred to me. “Melanie!” I screeched.

“
What!” she screeched back and her hands flew off the steering wheel and she slammed on the brake.

“
Watch your driving!” I exclaimed.

“
Well, what’s wrong,” and she turned to fix me with a glare. This was hopeless.

“
If you don’t focus on your driving, I’m going to insist that you pull off so I can take the wheel.”

Melanie arched her eyebrows. “Nobody drives this baby but me.” Melanie was always having a love affair with her latest car. And sometimes I was just as bad.

“
Melanie,” I began again, “Jimmy Pogue has the keys to my house. Remember? You gave them to him.”

“
Oh my gosh, you’re right. We’ll get the locks changed. As soon as those goofy police let us in, we’ll call a locksmith.”

Binkie was happy to see Melanie and me and invited us into the study where Aunt Ruby was settled comfortably. She had on a dress and looked pretty. Aunt Ruby was in her seventies but she colored her hair and laced up her Reeboks every day for a long walk around the district. A tray with iced tea and oatmeal cookies awaited us, and the air conditioner hummed quietly and coolly. The furnishings were old-fashioned, the very same furnishings Mrs. Higgins, Binkie’s mother, had brought to her home as a bride in the early thirties. The style was the timeless English Country look with fat club chairs upholstered in a faded floral fabric with roses. A beautiful Chippendale breakfront filled one wall, with leather-bound books arranged behind glass doors. Aunt Ruby presided over a lovely mahogany tea table.

“
The iced tea is decaffeinated,” she said.

“
We’ve just returned from a long walk around the historic district,” Binkie told us. “Everywhere we went, they were talking about Patsy Pogue being murdered in your gazebo. And the police cars are still at your house.”“Now, you girls sit down and make yourselves at home,” Aunt Ruby said. “Ashley, sweetie, you’ve had yourself a trying day from what I hear tell, now would you like something stronger than tea? We’ve got a lovely cream sherry that we haven’t opened yet.”

Binkie paced about. “How dreadful for you, Ashley, to find that writer killed that way. As upsetting as the murder at Two Sisters. I can’t imagine what is happening to our town. It used to be so peaceful here.”

“
Sit down, Benjamin,” Aunt Ruby said. “You’re working yourself up to a nervous snit.”

“
Iced tea is fine, Aunt Ruby,” Melanie said as she seated herself on a Chippendale sofa covered in soft, well-worn chintz.

“
Ashley and I think Jimmy Pogue is behind these murders. We think he killed Patsy. Ashley overheard them quarreling about Captain Pettigrew’s house. And we think he killed Hugh Mullins at Two Sisters. And . . .” she went on importantly, “we think Captain Pettigrew’s journal might offer a clue as to the motive. Because the police are just not listening to us.”