Murder on the Cape Fear (17 page)

I walked them into the kitchen and showed them the now accessible staircase.

“
We have big plans for the lower level,” Jon said. “Because your dad’s room will be where the old parlor used to be, we are designing a combination den/media room for you down there. That is where you two can relax without disturbing your father.”

“
Oh, that is a wonderful idea,” Laura said, evidently very pleased. “The house is really very spacious, we just need an efficient layout.”

“
We’re building a guest suite on the lower level as well,” Jon said. “And up on the second floor, you’ll have a large master suite, with a bath, and dressing room, large closets, and an office.”

“
I can’t thank you enough,” Laura said. “For a while I thought we were going to lose this house, and I just hated that. I grew up here. Well, you know that. Granted the place was held together with Scotch tape, but we have so much personal history here.” She slipped an arm around Jack’s waist. “And then Jack stepped in and saved the day. Paid the taxes, and funded my last year of med school.”

“
And worth every penny,” Jack said.

“
Well, it has been a privilege for Jon and me to restore your house. So, Jack, I too am grateful to you for keeping the house in the Captain’s family.”

Jack’s high color became even brighter. “It was the least I could do. Laura wanted us to live here and I want what Laura wants. Besides,” and he wagged his shaggy red-blonde eyebrows at us, “there’s gold hidden here, didn’t you know? Gold sovereigns from the Civil War. Worth a fortune now.”

After the tour of the house and getting Laura’s approval for everything we were doing, we stood chatting for a while on the sidewalk. They, of course, wanted to discuss the murders.

“
That must have been so awful for you, Ashley,” Laura said.

“
It was,” I said. But I hoped to keep our discussion professional.

“
I hear the motive for the man’s murder was over the theft of Professor Higgins’ briefcase,” Jack said. “I heard that the killer was after the journal Laura had sent to him. I’ve read that journal many times myself when I’ve been at Laura’s apartment in New York. There is nothing in it that I ever saw that was worth killing for.”

“
If anyone can ferret out the truth, it is Binkie,” I said. “But Jack, I don’t believe the police released the information about the stolen briefcase. How did you know about the role it played in Hugh Mullins’ murder?” I asked.

“
Oh, being in law enforcement myself, word gets around. You can’t keep secrets in this town.”

“
That’s true,” Jon said. And extended his hand to shake theirs goodbye. Jon and I were on the same wavelength. He knew I did not want to start gossiping about the murders but wanted to keep our relationship with Laura and Jack on a professional level.

“
Bye,” I said. “Jon is going back to work, but I’ve got to run. I’m meeting my sister and Aunt Ruby to sample wedding cakes.”

“
Oh,” Laura said. “Who is making your cake? I’m kind of out of the loop here but we’ve got our own wedding to plan soon. Can you recommend a baker?”

“
Sure,” I said. “Melanie’s friend Elaine McDuff is a really good caterer and she is preparing all of the food for our wedding. I can recommend her without reservation. She just opened a bakery in Leland.”

I drove home, changed out of work duds and into a skirt and knit top. I slipped my feet into sandals with thanks for the warm weather. I love wearing sandals and don’t get much chance to do so. Construction boots are not very feminine but I can’t work on a restoration site without them. A nail through the sole of a sandal would not be a pleasant experience.

I drove to Binkie’s to pick up Aunt Ruby and the two of us left him to his books and papers in the study. He gave me a distracted wave.

“
He’s been pouring over James Sprunt’s writings for days,” Aunt Ruby said. “I’m glad for this respite. I can’t get a word out of the man, unless it has to do with the blockade.”

I glanced at the breakfront but did not see the journal inside the glass doors. “Where’s the journal?” I asked in an unnecessary whisper. But I needn’t have whispered. Binkie did not even look up, so engrossed was he in the writings of the river pilot.

“
He’s hidden it somewhere. Not even I know where it is. He says I’m safer if I don’t know. I can’t wait to get that journal out of our house.”

“
Yes, I can understand that.” I linked my arm through hers and walked her to my car. “I hope you’re hungry,” I said, “because we’re going to be sampling cake, and you know Melanie, she never does anything half way.”

Elaine McDuff was an old friend of Melanie’s who had allowed herself to grow plump and motherly looking, even though she was a widow and childless. But oh! could that woman cook. She ran a very successful catering business and Melanie used her for all her parties and business receptions. I did too. The new bakery in Leland was an extension of her services. Elaine met us at the door and introduced us to her pastry chef, then excused herself to see to things in the back.

Celeste was an older woman who was a relative of Willie Hudson’s, actually, and who knew her way around the cake pans. She was a wizard with cake flour and created flawless fondant. She had tiny cakes made up for us to sample.

“
Oh, try this, Aunt Ruby,” Melanie exclaimed. “It is divine. What are these flavors, Celeste, they are so subtle?”

Celeste beamed. “You are eating pear-vanilla cake and the filling is cinnamon-cappuccino cream and hazelnut nougat. My own creation. Here have a little of this nice champagne to wash it down.”

“
We don’t want to get drunk,” I laughed. “We have to drive back to town.”

“
I’ll be sure to serve you some nice strong coffee before I let you set foot outside the door,” Celeste said. “Now this is very popular for the bachelor’s cake. My very own recipe. Double fudge chocolate. Everyone loves this cake.”

We took delicate bites of each cake. “I believe I’d go with the pear-vanilla cake for the wedding cake,” Aunt Ruby said.

“
I think so too,” Melanie said. I looked at her and thought I’d never seen her so happy, so in her element. She was going to be a beautiful bride. If only Mama and Daddy were here to see her. And me.

I turned away to hide my tears. But I couldn’t hold them back. I’d opened up a flood gate of tears. A delayed reaction to the shock of finding two murder victims, my overwhelming joy that I would be marrying Jon, and that Melanie had finally realized wonderful Cam was the man for her. Plus, missing our parents so much.

Aunt Ruby and Melanie were both hugging me and the three of us stood there, locked in a hug, rocking and patting, and “there, there”-ing each other.

When we pulled apart, I started to laugh. Oh, what an emotional roller-coaster.

Celeste shook her head. “Happens every time. I don’t know what it is about my cakes, but they always get the brides to bawling!”

Made sober by the strong coffee and glasses of water Celeste had pressed upon us, I drove Aunt Ruby home. Melanie had driven in her Mercedes, having a closing scheduled on the west side of town.

“
Yoo hoo, Binkie! We’re home,” Aunt Ruby called as she unlocked their front door. “Can you stay for a while, dear?” she asked me. “We’ll have some iced tea. You know how Binkie loves . . .”

Her voice trailed off. We had passed through the entry hall and into the parlor. Seeing the overturned furniture and crashed lamps at the same time, we both screamed.

“
Binkie!” Aunt Ruby shouted.

A disheveled Binkie came from the bathroom. He was holding an ice pack to his left temple.

“
I’m all right, I’m all right,” he said quickly. “Sit down, Ruby, you look like you might faint.”

I helped Aunt Ruby to a chair, and she almost collapsed into it.

“
What . . . what happened?”

“
He came after you, didn’t he?” I asked. “Looking for that journal.”

“
But he didn’t get it,” Binkie crowed. He was so proud of himself. “I gave as good as I got even if he was a young fellow. Landed my good right punch on his chin, and that man had to crawl to the door.”

“
Shall I take you to the hospital?” I asked. “Did you call the police?”

Binkie sat down on the arm of Ruby’s chair and took her hand. “Don’t look so scared, love. I can take care of myself. You, too. He won’t be coming back here again.”

“
But how did he get in?” she asked.

Binkie hesitated. “I let him in. The doorbell rang. I was distracted by my reading, so like a big fool I just absent-mindedly opened the door. He demanded the journal and when I said no, he took a swing at me. Well, that young punk didn’t know that I’ve been training for this moment all of my life. I really gave it to him. Like I said, he had to crawl out of the door. Then he staggered to his feet and limped down the street.”

“
Did you recognize him?” I asked.

“
Never saw him before. He looked like anybody you’d meet on the street, very average looking. Big shirt and droopy trousers like they wear these days. Hair covered by a ball cap. Dark glasses.”

“
I’ll call the police,” I said.

“
Yes,” Binkie agreed, “we’d better report this.”

“
I want that journal out of here,” Aunt Ruby said in a scared voice.

“
Soon, my love. Soon.”

20

On Saturday afternoon the carpenter arrived at the Captain’s house with the restored stair railing. He carried it in two sections and made additional trips to his truck to bring in the newel posts. Because the stairs turned at a ninety degree angle, the railing did not come as one continuous length.

“
Oh, it looks beautiful,” I exclaimed. “You hand stripped the old paint, didn’t you?”

Sandy was an older gentleman who took pride in his work and had very fine manners. “Yes, ma’am, I never use chemical strippers. I’ve got small tools designed to fit the intricate detailing and I use the proper tool for the job. Then I sanded and stained the wood, three coats.”

“
Well, it looks fabulous,” I said, clapping my hands together in applause.

“
Before I install the railings, I’m going to repair these stairs for you. Like we talked about, you’ve got some loose risers. I constructed new treads at the shop for the ones that are broken. There are only a few. I’ll remove the old, nail down the new, and sand and stain the stairs. Tomorrow, I’ll come back and install the railings and give everything a finish coat.”

Willie Hudson never worked on a Sunday, but Sandy was an independent craftsman and if he wanted to give up his Sunday to return to the house to finish the job, that was his business, I figured. Thanks to Willie having many grandsons of college age, we now had security personnel posted at the house when it was unoccupied so there would be someone here tomorrow to let Sandy inside.

While Sandy went to work on the stairs, I tackled the cleaning of the glass tiles on the fireplace surround. A new hearth had been laid to resemble the old, in jewel tone tiles to match the surround. Drab, indeed! The Victorians loved vibrant colors. Lovingly, I washed each individual tile with spray glass cleaner, rubbing and rubbing, until I brought it back to life. Melanie was picking me up at four and she would be appalled that I was dirty and smelled of ammonia but that couldn’t be helped.

“
Well, look at this, Miss Wilkes. Looks like someone used the inside of this step as a treasure box.”

I had poured liquid hand sanitizer into my palm and was rubbing my hands together when his words brought me up short.

“
Have you found something?” I asked excitedly.

Sandy withdrew a child’s doll, delicate but grimy. I climbed the stairs and took it from him. “This must have belonged to Lacey, the Captain’s little sister.”

The doll’s head, arms, and legs were made of bisque and were intact. Lacey had taken good care of her favorite dolly. But sawdust leaked from the seams of the doll’s soft body. Under all the dirt and grime, her dress was made of black cloth, clumsily sewn. Lacey had made it herself, I guessed. But why black?

“
Do you suppose the little girl was burying it here? A sort of coffin?” Sandy asked.

“
I think you’ve hit upon it,” I replied. “Children do play funeral. I remember burying dead birds in my parents’ garden. Is there anything else?” I asked expectantly.

Sandy bent his head and peered into the space under the tread. “Some papers.”

He withdrew a crumbled dusty sheet of paper and handed it to me. I blew the dust away and was able to decipher, written in a childish hand, the words, Thomas is dead.

“
Oh, no,” I exclaimed.

Sandy turned to study me. “What is it, Miss Wilkes?”

“
The note says, Thomas is dead. You know, Captain Pettigrew. Is there anything else?”

“
Yes, pushed here at the back.” And he reached in and pulled out an envelope.

He gave the envelope to me and I could scarcely breathe. By now I knew the Captain’s handwriting and this writing was his. The envelope was addressed to Mrs. Jessica Pettigrew, his mother, at this address on Front Street.