Free Murder on the Candlelight Tour by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter Page B

property?"
    "I'm not," I replied, trying to be patient. "And I'm wondering why anyone would be interested. Can't you just answer my question? They've been for sale for almost a year. Are they under contract? Can't you look it up on your MLS thingie?"
    "Ashley, I have a policy of not discussing my deals until they're done and the money's in my pocket. You should know that by now."
    "What do you mean your deals? Are you saying you're representing a buyer?" Why was I feeling sick to my stomach?
    "Ashley, if you tell one soul about this, there'll be another murder in your library, and you know who the victim will be. I'm Joel's broker and he's buying the property. We're going to develop it together."
     
    "Hell's fire and damnation!" I cursed, quoting one of Daddy's favorite expletives and venting my frustration on Jon. It was seven in the evening and sweet ole Jon had suggested we get together for dinner the moment he heard the panic in my voice. We were seated on the deck of the Pilot House Restaurant. Here it was December 6th and the day was so balmy that with sweaters we were able to dine al fresco in comfort. Jon was doing the honors with a bottle of Our Dog Blue from the Chateau Morrisette vineyards.
    "Just exactly what did Melanie say?" he asked, trying to understand the situation that had me so upset.
    "She said that with so many movie stars and production people coming to town, we needed a luxury hotel. She said it would be a gold mine and she didn't understand why no one had thought of it before." Melanie had waxed lyrical when she'd told me, "Joel is a genius." I wanted to say, yes, and he must be mighty good in bed to separate you from your money, sister dear.
    "But exactly what kind of hotel are they planning to build?" Jon asked. "Here, have some more wine." He refilled my glass from the blue bottle.
    "Well, according to Melanie, it'll be something tasteful. Something in keeping with the architectural style of the historic district. La-di-da! What does she think? That I just fell off the cabbage truck?"
    "You don't trust her?" Jon asked, a concerned look on his earnest face.
    I leaned forward and said emphatically, "I don't trust Joel!"
    At the savagery in my voice, the waiter who was about to set dinner plates before us backed away from the table. I glanced up at him. He was young, probably a student at UNC-W. "Sorry," I said, smiling to show I didn't have fangs.
    He set the plates on the table, did a little kowtow and vanished to the safety of the kitchen. I was starved. I always get hungry when life gets stressful. And before me sat a dinner to die for: baked grouper in a sweet potato crust, mushroom ravioli, and organic greens. I pondered the current use of that term. Organic means derived from living organisms. So aren't all greens organic? They're not cardboard, for pity's sake.
    Jon was having backfin crab cakes with Hoppin' John and steamed vegetables.
    "Should we confront Joel and Melanie?" I wondered out loud.
    "And get into a pissing contest with a skunk!" Jon exclaimed. "Look, whatever they're doing, they'll have to get building permits. I'll check around at the courthouse."
    "Oh yes, please do that. Then we'll know what they're up to."
    For a few minutes, silence reigned as we feasted.
    I said, "We can't expect the National Trust to come to our rescue. Those houses are outside the historic district. And they're not old enough or significant enough for us to apply for landmark protection. I've been worried that something like this might happen to destroy the quality of the historic district."
    "The city's skyline is still low but that could change," Jon remarked.
    "The 'Carolina Apartments' is six stories tall, but it's in the District and a landmark."
    "And the former home of Claude Howell," Jon reminded me.
    "And where they filmed Blue Velvet," I added. "Located as it is right across the street from the immense Bellamy Mansion, it doesn't appear too large."
    "Look, maybe we're jumping the gun here.