Murder on the Candlelight Tour Read Online Free Page B

gesture on his part, but I can assure you he must have had an ulterior motive. Sheldon Mackie has never committed an unselfish act in his life."
    "Binkie, don't you think you're being . . . well, unfair?"
    "Not at all. Sheldon Mackie was a thief."
    My surprise at this accusation must have shown on my face for Binkie exclaimed, "Aha! You didn't know that, did you? Sheldon Mackie robbed the Atlantic Coast Line payroll office back in 1960."
    I blinked and shook my head. This was getting way out of hand. Sheldon's death had affected him more than I suspected. Binkie was off his head.
    He continued, "Sheldon used his share of the money to set himself up in the interior decorating business. Fancied himself another Billy Baldwin. Hah! What a phony!"
    An involuntary shudder flowed through me. Suddenly, I was very afraid for Binkie. What else might he tell the police? And would they use these flights of fancy against him? I had to alert Attorney Walter Brice. "If this is true, why wasn't he charged with a crime?"
    "Because there's no proof. I can't prove it. But I know. And other people know too."
    "Who knows?"
    "His accomplices," he declared triumphantly.
    Gently, I asked, "And who are his accomplices?"
    He stared up at the porch ceiling. "I wish I knew."
     

 
     
     
     
    5
     
    Well-to-do tourists milled about the cobblestone street at Chandler's Wharf, peering into gift shop windows. Sunday brunch at Elijah's is a Wilmington tradition. With the town full of tourists, a line of ravenous people had queued-up on the boardwalk outside the riverfront restaurant. Folks wore sweaters and jackets.
    Wilmington's climate is semi-tropical. We seldom experience truly cold weather, unlike the blustery winter days I experienced as a student at Parsons School of Design in New York.
    I had a wonderful roommate in New York, Delores "Kiki" Piccolomini, a fellow design student at Parsons. Without wanting to or even realizing it was happening, I lost touch with her. Where are you now, Kiki, I wondered. She used to be my best friend.
    Now Jon Campbell is my best friend. I swept past the line and entered the restaurant. He was waiting for me at a window table overlooking the river. The sight of him--his golden hair, his ruddy complexion, his earnest face--was such a comfort after the horror of last night. We've been working together on restoration projects for over a year, and during that time have established a warm, trusting friendship.
    He waved a navy clad arm at me. His golden blonde hair was brushed neatly to the side, but I knew that shortly it would flop onto his forehead. His face lit up when he saw me.
    He jumped up and pulled out my chair. When I reached the table, he kissed my cheek. Over his shoulder I spotted Betty and Wayne Matthews, brunching at a corner table. We exchanged waves.
    "How are you holding up, gorgeous?" he asked when we were seated. "Your cheeks are as rosy as poinsettias."
    I felt my cheeks with my hands. They were warm. "Binkie and I were out walking. I guess I'm all right. I've got so much to talk to you about." I eyed his drink. "Is that a Mimosa?"
    "Yes. How is Binkie holding up? He's such a nice old guy, one of my favorite people. And Ashley, I keep kicking myself. If I'd stayed with you through the evening instead of leaving to see those other houses I'd have been there when you needed me."
    "I'll have a Mimosa," I told the waiter. "And decaf." I opened the menu. "Don't blame yourself. You couldn't have known. And Binkie's like you'd expect him to be. Nervous. Scared. I tried to get him to join us for brunch but he said everyone would stare at him. We were stared at in church. I'm worried, Jon. He doesn't look good. And he thinks the police are watching him."
    Jon scanned his menu. "Eggs Benedict," he told the waiter who had returned with my champagne-and-orange-juice cocktail and filled my coffee cup.
    "It looks bad for him. He's never made a secret about how he hated Sheldon and wished him dead."
    I sensed the