Free Murder at the Azalea Festival by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter Page A

a heartbeat if he said he was free.
    "I've got to meet the Medical Examiner at ten." He checked his watch. "The chief asked me to lend Diane a hand."
    I looked across the breakfast table and wondered why the sun shines brighter on Sunday morning? Or was it just this Sunday morning? Out in the town, church bells rang and carillons played.
    Yet the bad news was out there too. The Sunday Star-News headlines were big and bold: DOLPHIN'S COVE STAR DEAD! I'd folded the paper and put it aside, but not before I'd skimmed the page to learn that the last day of the festival had not been cancelled.
    Nick sipped his coffee, started to say something, changed his mind, then said, "I guess you're tied up with the festival."
    "The house tour starts at one. They don't expect me to remain here while it's in progress. I did tell Binkie I'd meet him at the Bellamy Mansion then."
    Binkie is my friend, historian Benjamin Higgins, a professor emeritus at UNC-W. Since Daddy passed, Binkie's been like a father to me, looking out for me, my protector. He had outlived all of his family, and he needed someone like me to need him.
    "Then Jon and I are going to look at a garden on Front Street," I continued. "So I've got a full day planned too."
    Nick looked around. "Something's missing. Where's the kitten?"
    "You mean little Spunky," I said, referring to a kitten I'd rescued during the winter. "You'll never guess. Spunky turned out to be as smitten as any male where Melanie was concerned. He fell in love with her. He got so attached to her that when she left, he'd howl. I finally had to give him to her. Ungrateful beast!
    So Spunky lives out on the ICW now. Melanie takes him out with her when she's working in the yard, and he has the best time stalking through the grass like a jungle creature. I'd never have been able to let him outside here in town with all the traffic.”
     
    I got up to refill Nick’s coffee mug. As I passed his chair, he caught my wrist and pulled me into his lap. "You look pretty in the morning. I didn't know I'd enjoy this," he indicated the table and the kitchen with his free hand, "so much."
    I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed his mouth. "Coffee kisses." I laughed from sheer happiness.
    I nestled in his lap; I fit so well there. He pulled me close and squeezed me, then drew back. "Ashley, you're involved with an unexplained death. It might turn out to be a homicide . . ."
    "Oh, Nick, do you really . . ."
    "And you know that makes me crazy. You seem to be a magnet for these things . . . I want you to be very careful, especially careful. Someone might think you know more than you do about Mindy Chesterton's death, so I don't want you talking to anyone but the police. And call me, day or night, if something unusual happens."
    "Unusual? What do you think might happen? You don't even know the cause of death."
    "We will soon. And it doesn't feel right. Now promise me."
    "I will," I vowed, crossing my heart.
    I got up and refilled our coffee mugs, then took my seat across the table from him and cracked my egg shell with a spoon. I ground fresh pepper on the egg, then offered him the pepper mill.
    Already I could see he was slipping into his cop's mode. If these transitions made me dizzy, how must they affect him? I was glad he had enough sense to consult the police shrink when his work got to be more than he could handle.
    "My schedule's pretty tight," he said, already slipping away and toward the work before him. "As I said, the chief asked me to lend Diane a hand with the Mindy Chesterton case. With budget cuts and Homeland Security demands, Wilmington PD is stretched thin. The medical examiner is covering all the bases with this one--full toxicology screening, the works. Diane and I will attend the autopsy this morning."
    "Oh, no. You've got to be there?"
    "It's part of the job, Ashley. You get used to it. And I've got that other thing keeping me busy. I don't know when I'll be able to see you, but you can always reach me