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the police department's new public information officer. She just moved here from Georgia. And this is..."
    He was about to say my name but Melanie stepped between us, hand outstretched. I thought she was going to shake hands with Lisa, but instead she offered the startled Lisa a business card. "I'm Melanie Wilkes, and I'm delighted to welcome you to our little community, Lisa." She linked arms with Blondie and drew her to one side. "Now, we'll just have to find the perfect house to suit a young executive on her way up like yourself. Naturally, you'll be doing a lot of entertaining." Inspiration seemed to strike. "Oh, I know. I've got just the house--in mint condition too so you can move right in."
    "Why, why, thank you, Miss . . ." Lisa glanced at the card in her hand. "Miss Wilkes."
    Jon took my elbow and tried to pull me away. I wasn't budging. I wouldn't miss this little bit of live theatre for anything.
    "I'm Melanie," she said with saccharin sweetness. "Melanie Wilkes. Just like in Gone With the Wind." She laughed lightly. "Now you phone me, Lisa, and we'll do lunch, and then I'll take you on a tour of our best boutiques."
    The group was breaking up, moving toward cars, Blondie with Nick. He never did complete the introduction.
    Melanie grasped Flynn's arm possessively. "Come, Earl, let's take another look at that magnificent house in Landfall."
    "Ashley, I'm so glad I caught up with you," Betty Matthews called. I turned back toward the restaurant to see the Matthews hurrying my way.
    "Hi, Betty, Wayne," I said. Jon greeted them too.
    "Ashley, I just got a call from the Historical Society. I expected they'd close down your house today after what happened. Isn't it just awful? Poor Sheldon."
    "Yes," I sighed, remembering. "Poor Sheldon."
    "Well, imagine my surprise when I was asked to fill in for Sheldon and Binkie at your house. They made it clear they don't want Binkie there. He's going to be shunned until this is all cleared up."
    "You mean my house is still on the tour?" I asked.
    "Sure 'nuff. Can you believe it?"
    "No, I can't. The police are agreeing to this?"
    "They must be, Ashley, because you're supposed to open at four as usual," Betty replied.
    "The candlelight tour is very important to our community," Wayne said.
    "Let's take a walk," I suggested to Jon after Wayne and Betty left. "I need to clear my head."
    He tucked my hand into his. "Where do you want to walk? Along the riverfront? At dusk the trees will be illuminated but it's too early now."
    "Let's just stroll around town, look at the Christmas decorations."
    "The town looks beautiful. I think you're worried about Binkie. I am too. But let's take some time out for ourselves."
    We exited Chandler's Wharf into Nun Street. High atop a ballast wall, on property known as "Brow of the Hill," the handsome Federal-style Governor Dudley house, circa 1825, was decorated with fresh green wreaths in every window. The historic district, all two hundred blocks of it, had gone all out for Christmas -- tiny white lights in trees and shrubs, candles in windows, wreaths with bright red bows.
    On Front Street, volunteers were setting out fresh luminaries. They stopped to stare. I called hello. "As soon as we're out of ear shot, they'll be gossiping about us, Jon, and about the murder in my house."
    He glanced back over his shoulder. "Don't let it bother you."
    I shrugged. "I'll just have to get used to it. Everyone's talking about Sheldon's murder. And why not? Everyone knew him. He was popular." Everyone liked him. Except Binkie.
    We walked aimlessly for a while, meandering up and down residential streets, and cutting through alleys. We ventured outside the historic district, into Palace Street. Here too the homes reflected the spirit of the Candlelight Tour, wreaths with berries and colorful bows on front doors, candles in windows, glimpses of Christmas trees inside.
    Near the corner, four derelict houses seemed to lean into each other, a blight on the cityscape. "FOR