Read Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach for Free Online

and must have worn gloves so he wouldn't leave any prints on the door knobs or anywhere else. The police should be thinking about that, instead of trying to pin this on me."
    Gordon was about five-nine, maybe forty or forty-two. His hair was dark but receding and he was developing a paunch around his middle. As long as I had known him he had never been gainfully employed. He'd lived off his wife's book sales while she was alive, and what he was doing for money now I had no idea. Melanie said he was in a jam and needed money. And as everyone knows, money is the most common motive for murder.
    Jon, who isn't any more fond of Gordon than I am, got to his feet. "Here, have a seat, Gordon. We've got coffee and cake. Or would you like something stronger?"
    Gordon seemed relieved. He moved around the table and took Jon's chair, nodded to everyone, then lifted his face to Jon's. "Got a beer? Sure would like a beer."
    "Bring him a beer, Jon, would you?" Melanie requested. "I declare the subject of murder is off limits for the rest of the evening. None of us will be able to sleep tonight with all this talk of murder, and Saturdays are busy days for me. Lots of walk-ins coming into the office and wanting to look at beach properties. So maybe the rest of you can sleep in but I can't. Isn't there something else we can talk about?"
    I said to J.C., "I bought your watercolor from Val a couple of days ago. It's a gazebo covered with vines. The style was so simple, yet strong. I love it."
    J.C. lifted his coffee mug. "I know the one you mean. That was one of the first watercolors I ever did, back in the days of my callow youth. That gazebo was on the farm our family once owned. I painted it years later, from memory. I'm glad you like it, beauteous Ashley."
    Devin said casually, "I'm kind of a World War Two history buff, J.C., and someone said you were a kid here during the war and know something about the POWs that were sent to this area. The whole subject of German soldiers being interned in the U.S. fascinates me. Do you remember them?"
    J.C. glared at him. "Maybe the subject fascinates you, Ballantine, but it doesn't fascinate me. You weren't here. You didn't have to encounter those lousy Krauts every day when you were a kid. So yes, I remember them. I remember them too well and I'd just as soon forget!"
    We were all silent after that. Poor Melanie, she had been planning this cookout for weeks, ever since she knew that Kelly was coming from New York. As a party it was a bust!
    I tried to salvage the situation. "I'm really looking forward to restoring your family's house," I told J.C. "It's a fine example of Georgian Revival architecture from the nineteen-twenties. Those houses were built to last, large and gracious."
    J.C. pushed back his chair and got up. "You're wasting your time. Damned house ought to be leveled." He took a few steps, then stopped at Melanie's chair and quickly smiled, instantly Mr. Charm again. "Thanks for the dessert, sweet lips, I've got to run."
    "I'll walk you down," she said and left with him.
    I stood up too and loaded a tray with the coffee things. "Party's over for me too," I called from the sliding glass door. "I've got an early morning. Night, ya'll ." I carried the tray into the house and left it for morning.
    Party's over, I thought, and wished it had never begun. So the police suspected Gordon Cushman, I mused, as I descended the stairs to my room. He said he'd been helping Val hang the paintings, but Jon had told me there'd been a rift between Val and Cushman. And what had happened to Cecily Cushman's estate? She'd been a big true-crime writer, even had movies made from her books, and made plenty of money. As the detectives say, "follow the money," but follow it where? I wanted to know.

6

    Because of its unique architectural significance, the Carolina Heights Historic District is listed in the National Register of Historical Places. The boundaries are Market Street on the south, Rankin Street on the