the carton, replaced the lid, and shoved it into the freezer.
Two servings of brownie had been removed from the pan. And a spoon coated with hardening caramel was stuck to the countertop. Nut crumbs were scattered everywhere. The dishes from last night’s dinner had not been washed as promised, merely shifted into the second sink bowl.
Even with the kitchen door standing wide open, the smell of scorched wood from Monday’s fire hung in the air. I stepped off my kitchen porch to search for Patsy in the backyard.
My azalea bushes had grown large and had flowered magnificently during the spring; now they were thick with green leaves. There was a huge magnolia tree at the far edge of my garden and it was in full, sweet bloom. But no Patsy.
How could she and Jimmy leave without closing and locking the doors? Were they that irresponsible?
My charming Victorian gazebo stood in the center of the garden with narrow walkways leading to it from the four corners of the yard. It was covered with Carolina jessamine that bloomed almost all year round. A flash of memory of Nick took me by surprise. Two years ago, before we had married, when he had been a homicide detective with Wilmington PD, he and Diane Sherwood had arrived at my house during an Azalea Festival tour in progress. They had come to question me about the death of a former Azalea Belle, and I’d led them out here to the gazebo where we could talk in private. I had sensed that Diane was smitten with Nick. But when we sat in the gazebo and Nick selected a seat at a distance from Diane, I knew he did not share her feelings.
So now Nick was back in Wilmington. It would be impossible for me not to bump into him. Wilmington might have a population of a hundred thousand, yet it is a small town in many ways, especially the historic district. I wondered what I would feel when I saw him. It had been seven months since we parted. Two years ago, when we had married, I had been madly in love with him. They say love is blind. For me that had been true. I had worn blinders that prevented me from seeing that Nick had a wanderlust and a thirst for adventure that would make it impossible for him to find satisfaction in domestic life.
And domestic life was exactly what I was committed to - I loved decorating, turning a house into a home, and entertaining my loved ones in that home. The people I loved - Jon, Melanie, Aunt Ruby, and Binkie - had always held Nick apart, treating him with respect but with a reserve that was not natural to them.
Last November had been a low point in my life. I was still mourning the loss of the baby that I’d miscarried early in my pregnancy. Then I’d discovered that Nick was having an affair with a canine handler whom he’d met at Blackwater Security. Now, it seemed, he had grown disillusioned with that outfit as well. I wondered if the Captain would take him back into the police department.
Jon’s steady love had lifted me out of my depression and had given me the power to recover. I had always loved him as my best friend, now I loved him as my future husband.
I gave myself a hug. You are one lucky girl, Ashley Wilkes, I told myself. I wandered to the gazebo to sit for a moment before tackling the mess inside the house.
And that's where I found Patsy Pogue. She was lying on the brick floor, curled on her side. The dinner plate had fallen from her hand and broken. Had she experienced a stroke? With the way she gorged on fats and sugar, a stroke seemed inevitable.
Shards of glass from one of my lovely blue and white Spode plates pierced the mounds of whipped cream, ice cream, fudge brownies, and scoops of hardening caramel.
Patsy was wearing a red tent-like shirt. At her middle, a huge darker red stain had soaked through the cotton. I experienced déjà vu. Patsy had been killed exactly like the man I’d stumbled upon at Two Sisters. She had been stabbed. A knife handle protruded from her abdomen in precisely the same way. It is weird what runs
Two servings of brownie had been removed from the pan. And a spoon coated with hardening caramel was stuck to the countertop. Nut crumbs were scattered everywhere. The dishes from last night’s dinner had not been washed as promised, merely shifted into the second sink bowl.
Even with the kitchen door standing wide open, the smell of scorched wood from Monday’s fire hung in the air. I stepped off my kitchen porch to search for Patsy in the backyard.
My azalea bushes had grown large and had flowered magnificently during the spring; now they were thick with green leaves. There was a huge magnolia tree at the far edge of my garden and it was in full, sweet bloom. But no Patsy.
How could she and Jimmy leave without closing and locking the doors? Were they that irresponsible?
My charming Victorian gazebo stood in the center of the garden with narrow walkways leading to it from the four corners of the yard. It was covered with Carolina jessamine that bloomed almost all year round. A flash of memory of Nick took me by surprise. Two years ago, before we had married, when he had been a homicide detective with Wilmington PD, he and Diane Sherwood had arrived at my house during an Azalea Festival tour in progress. They had come to question me about the death of a former Azalea Belle, and I’d led them out here to the gazebo where we could talk in private. I had sensed that Diane was smitten with Nick. But when we sat in the gazebo and Nick selected a seat at a distance from Diane, I knew he did not share her feelings.
So now Nick was back in Wilmington. It would be impossible for me not to bump into him. Wilmington might have a population of a hundred thousand, yet it is a small town in many ways, especially the historic district. I wondered what I would feel when I saw him. It had been seven months since we parted. Two years ago, when we had married, I had been madly in love with him. They say love is blind. For me that had been true. I had worn blinders that prevented me from seeing that Nick had a wanderlust and a thirst for adventure that would make it impossible for him to find satisfaction in domestic life.
And domestic life was exactly what I was committed to - I loved decorating, turning a house into a home, and entertaining my loved ones in that home. The people I loved - Jon, Melanie, Aunt Ruby, and Binkie - had always held Nick apart, treating him with respect but with a reserve that was not natural to them.
Last November had been a low point in my life. I was still mourning the loss of the baby that I’d miscarried early in my pregnancy. Then I’d discovered that Nick was having an affair with a canine handler whom he’d met at Blackwater Security. Now, it seemed, he had grown disillusioned with that outfit as well. I wondered if the Captain would take him back into the police department.
Jon’s steady love had lifted me out of my depression and had given me the power to recover. I had always loved him as my best friend, now I loved him as my future husband.
I gave myself a hug. You are one lucky girl, Ashley Wilkes, I told myself. I wandered to the gazebo to sit for a moment before tackling the mess inside the house.
And that's where I found Patsy Pogue. She was lying on the brick floor, curled on her side. The dinner plate had fallen from her hand and broken. Had she experienced a stroke? With the way she gorged on fats and sugar, a stroke seemed inevitable.
Shards of glass from one of my lovely blue and white Spode plates pierced the mounds of whipped cream, ice cream, fudge brownies, and scoops of hardening caramel.
Patsy was wearing a red tent-like shirt. At her middle, a huge darker red stain had soaked through the cotton. I experienced déjà vu. Patsy had been killed exactly like the man I’d stumbled upon at Two Sisters. She had been stabbed. A knife handle protruded from her abdomen in precisely the same way. It is weird what runs
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