Wilmington, NC 03 - Murder On The Ghost Walk by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter
Authors: Ellen Elizabeth Hunter
Ads: Link
pride. My restoration. Mirabelle might own it, Mirabelle might live in it, but deep down, this was my house. I was leaving my mark on it, just as in the future I would leave my signature on many restored houses in the District.
On the next block, my headlights illuminated Teddy's modest but charming sunny yellow house. The gingerbread trim was painted white and gray. An authentic Victorian, it had a corner porch with a turret room above. Lights blazed from the first floor windows so I assumed Teddy was still up. It was not yet eleven. The doorbell was old-fashioned, the kind you had to twist; it buzzed loudly.
Teddy opened the door, a wallpaper scraper in one hand. He smiled broadly when he saw me. "Ashley, you came. Come on in and I'll show you what I'm doing. You'll be interested in this."
"Sorry, it's so late."
"It's not late. I'll be up for hours more."
I followed him into the dining room where he was scraping off layers of dull, faded wallpaper.
"Mother never had time to decorate our house, she was always so busy decorating her clients' houses."
"You know, Teddy, I tried calling your mother when I was at home over school breaks. I wanted to find out where you were, but I could never reach her."
"She worked hard. She was always busy." He brushed off his hands. "How about a glass of wine? Mother left a good supply."
"Thanks, but no. It's late and I've got to drive home. But you go ahead and have one if you want." I followed him back to the kitchen.
"Not without you. Anyway, I'm going to work on that wallpaper for another hour. Mother was so clever about money. There wasn't even a mortgage to pay off when she died."
I touched Teddy's shoulder. "I know you were proud of her."
Teddy lifted his chin. "I was. She was my best friend."
"What happened at the production studio after we left?" I asked, making conversation because I didn't want to spring the bad news on him.
"Didn't you hear, Ashley? Bob King and his crew made good on their threat to strike. Her show is off the air."
"You mean, they really did it? Picket lines and all."
Teddy's eyes blazed with excitement. "Yep. No one will go near Mirabelle's set. Everything's shut down."
"But that means you're out of a job, Teddy. I'm so sorry."
"I'll find something else. It didn't turn out to be what I expected anyway."
"He really stood up to her," I said, impressed with Bob King. "He really did it."
Teddy's expression was grim. "He hates her, Ashley. I heard him say he'd like to kill her."
"He'll have to get in line," I joked, and we both laughed. "I could use a cup of tea."
"Sure. I'll boil some water."
I sat at the kitchen table and watched Teddy fill a tea kettle. "I like what you're doing here," I said, taking in the kitchen. New, yellow floral wallpaper covered the walls. The trim was painted cream, and there were folded shutters at the windows.
Teddy was taking china cups and saucers from one of the glass-front cabinets. "Mother collected these."
"You have a green thumb," I said, admiring pots of herbs on window sills and a ruffly fern hanging over the sink. "I was so sorry to hear she'd passed. I hope she didn't suffer."
Teddy set the table with a blue and white Spode teapot and matching tea cups. "A massive heart attack," he said. "She died very quickly. The doctor said she wouldn't have known what was happening."
"That's a blessing." I waited until he'd sipped some tea, hoping it would fortify him. "I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Teddy. It'll be on TV later and I didn't want you to hear about it that way."
His eyes widened. "What is it, Ashley? You're scaring me."
I told him the skeletons had been positively identified as Shelby and Reggie Campbell.
"No! There has to be a mistake." The tea cup rattled against the saucer as he replaced it. He dropped his head into his hands.
I got up and went around the table to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Teddy. I felt I had to tell you."
"You're a good friend, Ashley. Do you
On the next block, my headlights illuminated Teddy's modest but charming sunny yellow house. The gingerbread trim was painted white and gray. An authentic Victorian, it had a corner porch with a turret room above. Lights blazed from the first floor windows so I assumed Teddy was still up. It was not yet eleven. The doorbell was old-fashioned, the kind you had to twist; it buzzed loudly.
Teddy opened the door, a wallpaper scraper in one hand. He smiled broadly when he saw me. "Ashley, you came. Come on in and I'll show you what I'm doing. You'll be interested in this."
"Sorry, it's so late."
"It's not late. I'll be up for hours more."
I followed him into the dining room where he was scraping off layers of dull, faded wallpaper.
"Mother never had time to decorate our house, she was always so busy decorating her clients' houses."
"You know, Teddy, I tried calling your mother when I was at home over school breaks. I wanted to find out where you were, but I could never reach her."
"She worked hard. She was always busy." He brushed off his hands. "How about a glass of wine? Mother left a good supply."
"Thanks, but no. It's late and I've got to drive home. But you go ahead and have one if you want." I followed him back to the kitchen.
"Not without you. Anyway, I'm going to work on that wallpaper for another hour. Mother was so clever about money. There wasn't even a mortgage to pay off when she died."
I touched Teddy's shoulder. "I know you were proud of her."
Teddy lifted his chin. "I was. She was my best friend."
"What happened at the production studio after we left?" I asked, making conversation because I didn't want to spring the bad news on him.
"Didn't you hear, Ashley? Bob King and his crew made good on their threat to strike. Her show is off the air."
"You mean, they really did it? Picket lines and all."
Teddy's eyes blazed with excitement. "Yep. No one will go near Mirabelle's set. Everything's shut down."
"But that means you're out of a job, Teddy. I'm so sorry."
"I'll find something else. It didn't turn out to be what I expected anyway."
"He really stood up to her," I said, impressed with Bob King. "He really did it."
Teddy's expression was grim. "He hates her, Ashley. I heard him say he'd like to kill her."
"He'll have to get in line," I joked, and we both laughed. "I could use a cup of tea."
"Sure. I'll boil some water."
I sat at the kitchen table and watched Teddy fill a tea kettle. "I like what you're doing here," I said, taking in the kitchen. New, yellow floral wallpaper covered the walls. The trim was painted cream, and there were folded shutters at the windows.
Teddy was taking china cups and saucers from one of the glass-front cabinets. "Mother collected these."
"You have a green thumb," I said, admiring pots of herbs on window sills and a ruffly fern hanging over the sink. "I was so sorry to hear she'd passed. I hope she didn't suffer."
Teddy set the table with a blue and white Spode teapot and matching tea cups. "A massive heart attack," he said. "She died very quickly. The doctor said she wouldn't have known what was happening."
"That's a blessing." I waited until he'd sipped some tea, hoping it would fortify him. "I'm afraid I have bad news for you, Teddy. It'll be on TV later and I didn't want you to hear about it that way."
His eyes widened. "What is it, Ashley? You're scaring me."
I told him the skeletons had been positively identified as Shelby and Reggie Campbell.
"No! There has to be a mistake." The tea cup rattled against the saucer as he replaced it. He dropped his head into his hands.
I got up and went around the table to him, putting an arm around his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Teddy. I felt I had to tell you."
"You're a good friend, Ashley. Do you
Similar Books
