Murder on the Candlelight Tour Read Online Free

Landfall, the very posh, very upscale, gated community on the Intracoastal Waterway. Landfall had been developed on the former estate of the wealthy Pembroke Joneses who'd once hosted lavish parties there and at their Newport estate. They'd been two of Mrs. Astor's four hundred. When people talk about "keeping up with the Joneses," it's Pembroke and Sarah they're referring to.
    Binkie had told me stories about the Joneses. Kindly and generous to a fault, Binkie had given so much to the community and had so much more to give. I refused to allow this miscarriage of justice to occur; I had too much of Daddy in me. I simply had to find a way to clear him. And that meant finding clues. And finding clues meant meddling in Nick's murder case. I hated to think of how that would set him off. I got up and went to Great-Grandma's rosewood dresser, picked up a hair brush, and started to brush my hair. Staring at my sleepy reflection in the mirror over the dresser, I whispered to myself, "Nick's right. Murderers are dangerous."
    Inspired by Melanie's glamorous turn out, I took pains with my own outfit. Ordinarily, I'm dressed in what Melanie sarcastically refers to as my "construction-wear chic" -- khaki pants, denim jackets, work shirts, thick socks, construction boots. Maybe I'd bump into her today and she'd see that I wear skirts too and I look good in them.
    I buy my clothes at boutiques at the Forum, Mayfaire, and Lumina Station boutiques. And luck out with steals at Marshall's and T.J.'s. I slipped into a black knit tube skirt by Donna Karan and low-heeled black leather boots, a magenta blouse from August Silks, and a cashmere cardigan. I gave myself a once over in the mirror and thought I should be in Vogue. I was meeting my friend and business associate Jon Campbell for brunch at Elijah's after church.
    Before I left the house, I called Binkie to check on him and to invite him to join us. He confessed he couldn't bear to be alone but also felt he couldn't face a crowd. The memory of Sheldon's sightless stare was haunting him just as it had haunted me throughout the night.
    "I think the police have me under surveillance, Ashley," Binkie said worriedly. "There's a car parked outside my house with two men in it, and it has been there all morning."
    "Are you sure?" I asked.
    "Well, no, I'm not sure. But they look like police to me."
    And maybe they are, I thought. So Nick was treating him like a suspect, just as I feared. "Well, we'll just have to give them the slip."
    He brightened immediately. "Sounds like a plan. Any ideas?"
    "Only the most brilliant," I said with a cheerfulness I didn't feel. "How about this? I'm on my way to St. James. Meet me there. Let them see you entering through the front door. Then after services, we'll slip out the side door and leave through St. Francis's garden." I referred to the small garden behind the church where a statue of St. Francis, the patron saint of animals, stood guard over an earthly host of chipmunks, squirrels, and a variety of birds.
    Shortly after twelve, Binkie and I left church by way of St. Francis's garden, as planned. Yesterday's surprise snowfall had vanished without a trace, and the noonday sun had warmed things up. I slipped my arm through his and we strolled cautiously around the block. When Binkie didn't see the car or the men he thought had been watching him, we crossed Third Street to the Burgwin-Wright House.
    "A fine example of Georgian architecture," Binkie declared, "but just think of what's under it!"
    "The old town jail, you mean?" I asked.
    "More than a jail, Ashley dear, a dungeon. I've been in it." He gave a shudder. "It was inhumane of Lord Cornwallis to lock the patriots down there. You do know that he'd set up headquarters here during the War for Independence, don't you? He seized the house for himself, declaring it to be 'the most considerable house in town.' Then after the Battle of Guilford Court House, he retreated back here to Wilmington. Eighteen days later,