Murder at the Azalea Festival (3 page)

Tiffany's enthusiasm seemed boundless, and she went on, "The circle is a symbol of perfection to the Chinese."

"A moon-gate garden is a romantic place on a moonlit night," Gus added, his glance sweeping over me.

Is this guy coming on to me? I asked myself. That was a "no-no" if we were going work for him.

"So much for the magical," I said. "Now on to the practical. Jon, what's your assessment of the first floor?"

"Why don't we go upstairs and I'll save my evaluation until I've seen the whole house. I'm taking notes." He waved a notepad at me, as if to reassure me that while he might have been momentarily captivated by Tiffany's nubile charms, he was at heart a serious architect who wasn't being diverted from the job at hand.

Good old Jon. I smiled inwardly. "Okay, let's take this show upstairs then. There's some water damage there, I'm afraid."

I paused at the newel post, and pointed to the handrail. "Anybody know the significance of this gold coin?"

"What coin?" Tiffany asked, stepping up behind me and peering where I pointed. "Oh, that old thing. That's been there for as long as I can remember. I didn't know it had a special meaning. I just thought it was one of Caesar's eccentricities."

Gus stifled a grin. He knew. I turned to Jon and arched my eyebrows inquiringly. He leaned in closer for a better look. A gold coin had been imbedded in the wood at the center of the handrail where it crowned the newel post. Jon shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me."

I smiled. "That gold coin was set there to signify that the house was owned free and clear by Caesar, that all debts had been paid, that there were no liens, and any visitor to the house who saw that coin knew the owner of the house was a man of substance. Probably, he gave a formal party and they celebrated at the time. That was the tradition back then."

Jon rolled his eyes. "She knows all the old-house trivia."

"That's my job," I said with a chuckle. That gold coin must have been a temptation to the poor Tallieres, yet somehow they'd resisted the urge to pry it lose and spend it. They had hung on to this symbol of their proud heritage, and I admired them for it.

We started up the stairs which were in surprisingly good condition. Stairs generally hold up better than other parts of a structure. On the second floor, the water damage was obvious.

"We're going to need to do some extensive roof repair," Jon said, studying the sepia stains that tinged the ceiling and upper walls of a sparsely furnished bedroom.

Throughout the house, only a few furnishings remained, and it was my guess that Caesar's descendants had been forced to sell off valuable antiques to get them through hard times. I was grateful that they'd had the fortitude to hold on to the house and land. Surely there had been offers over the years.

Jon continued, "I'd say past storms have loosened or blown away some of the slate tiles. But we've got someone good who'll be able to make the repairs and replace the slate."

"Willie Hudson," I said. "A very experienced contractor who knows more about old house construction than Jon and I put together."

"We'll leave the subcontracting to you," Gus said. "Jon, have you noticed how the floor sags under some of those windows?"

"I have. The paint has peeled off the window frames, allowing rot to set in. Let the bottom sill rot out and the whole house starts to sink, roof and all. Most people aren't aware of just how important window sills are to a house's overall structural integrity. And all it takes is regular painting to prevent water damage."

Tiffany's enthusiasm waned. I could see this was getting too technical for her. She just wanted her house to look pretty again, she didn't want to know how we were going to do it. "Unfortunately, there hasn't been the money to maintain the house until recently. All we had was our good name."

"We'll come back tomorrow and make a detailed inspection," I assured her. "We'll take photographs and measurements, and draw up a comprehensive plan. Then we'll be able to tell you how much this will cost."

Tiffany waved a hand dismissively. "Money's not a problem. We've both done well. We've been very lucky, I with my acting, Gus with his investments."

"You are eligible for tax credits with this type restoration. I'll prepare the necessary applications for you," I said.

"Well, that's great, Ashley. Still, we can't start tomorrow. The Azalea Queen's coronation is scheduled for the morning, and our producer is insisting we all be there. A photo op that can't be missed, he says.

"Then in the afternoon, Gus and I are hosting a garden party here for the queen's court and the festival officials. Your sister Melanie as the grand marshal will be here, and we'd like you and Jon to be our special guests. Will you come?"

Jon and I exchanged looks, nodded, and I accepted for both of us. "We'd love to come. We can inspect the house on Monday after the festival is over."

"That's great. Come on, let me show you our quarters. There's an enclosed porch where you and Jon can set up an office if you want."

Tiffany and Gus preceded us down the stairs, across a piazza, and into the north wing of the house. Here, with the addition of electricity, plumbing, and carpentry, the wing's first floor had been converted into a livable apartment. There were two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a sitting room with a Pullman kitchen, and an odd little room that appeared to be an enclosed service porch.

Tiffany and Gus shared the apartment after he'd finished his studies at Duke, she'd told me on my first visit. Having him return to Moon Gate meant she could return too; the place was just too forbidding for a twenty-year-old to live here on her own. When Gus granted himself the present of a long trip through South America, Tiffany had stayed at a downtown Bed and Breakfast. Now they were sharing again, and Tiffany seemed happy with the arrangement.

Indicating the enclosed porch, Tiffany said, "This is the room I was talking about." She hooked her hair behind her ear with an index finger in the signature mannerism she'd perfected for her role as Julie on Dolphin's Cove.

As we passed through the first floor rooms again, I spotted more displays of animal skulls on shelves and tabletops. One in particular caught my eye. It was large and bleached white like the skulls one sees in Georgia O'Keefe's desert paintings. The jaw was long and narrow, and at first I mistook it for a horse's head. Then I realized it was a pelican skull, and I thought these were odd items to collect. I wondered if they'd been acquired recently, or were they prizes from a distant Talliere's collection?

4

Thursday dawned gloriously, one of those incredibly beautiful days that are rare and remain indelibly imprinted on the brain as the epitome of a perfect spring day. During the night, a gentle rain had washed away pollen and dust and refreshed the flowers. The colorful azaleas stood out vividly against a stark white tent that had been set-up on the lawn between the Talliere mansion and Caesar's terraced gardens.

Groups of Azalea Belles in pastel ballgowns strolled the lawns, parasols raised to shield fair faces, and they smiled and giggled with the princess and her court. The princess this year was a high school senior from Hoggard, bright and possessing a promising future.

I had been concerned that the crumbling mansion would appear inappropriate as a backdrop for the festivities, but I needn't have worried. The house came across as a faded Tara, much the way Scarlett's home had appeared when she returned to it after the war, and thus endearing itself to the heart and soul of any Southerner.

As the kitchen was unusable, the caterer was operating out of the tent. Her van was parked on the far side, and I recognized it as belonging to Elaine McDuff. Elaine was a round, motherly-looking, energetic forty-something caterer. Larry, her husband, was a sometime character actor, who as a young man had been a regular on the Matlock series when it was filmed here in Wilmington. Since then, roles for him had been hard to come by and he seemed to have settled in assisting Elaine with her popular catering business.

The flaps of the tent were rolled up. Inside, Elaine had arranged buffet tables with pristine white cloths for the food she was setting out.

Round tables and wrought iron garden chairs had been placed strategically in shady spots on the lawn for the guests. There were lounge chairs under the trees and my sister Melanie reclined in one. As the festival's grand marshal, she would lead the parade and preside over many of the ceremonies in the days to come. Melanie is famous for her spectacular beauty and her spectacular success as a Wilmington realtor.

Next to her sat the Azalea Queen, Jillian Oliver, a stunning platinum blonde, gorgeous in her own right, but no match for my red-headed sister who, in her spring green sequined sheath, looked smashing. Jillian, a star on a big network soap opera that was filmed in New York, chatted companionably with Melanie.

"Looks like prom night out there," Jon said over my shoulder.

"Not these days," I replied. "Today the seventeen-year-olds wear slinky black gowns on prom night and no one would ever accuse them of being virgins. No, these girls look like true Southern belles."

Melanie beckoned to me but I raised a just-a-minute finger. I was looking around for Tiffany to tell her we had arrived. I spotted her in the tent, hovering over the tables. Elaine had returned to the van, unloading food boxes onto the tailgate, while Larry was doing a balancing-act with a tray of iced tea glasses as he moved through the crowd.

"I'm going to speak to Tiffany," I told Jon.

"And I see a city councilman I need to speak to," he replied, and walked toward a group of men that included Gus Talliere. Gus gave me a little salute.

I'd dressed up for the party. Although I wouldn't be mistaken for one of the Azalea Belles, in my ankle-length silky tea gown and feminine straw hat with flowers, I thought I could hold my own against any belle of the Twelve Oaks variety.

I exchanged waves with several acquaintances then made my way to the tent where I called to Tiffany. I must have startled her for she whirled around awkwardly, hand pressed to heart. "Oh, Ashley, I didn't hear you."

I gave her a little hug. "I wanted to let you know we're here. Everything looks so pretty."

"Do you really think so? I'm a bit nervous, that's why I'm in here checking on things."

"I do think so. It's a beautiful party and a beautiful day. Don't worry about the food, there's no finer chef than Elaine. Just leave everything in her capable hands and come on out and enjoy yourself. By the way, you look fabulous."

Tiffany looked like a fairytale princess in her pale yellow gown with its full skirt. Her hair was swept up, and unlike yesterday, she was wearing make-up.

"Come on," I said, my arm around her shoulders, "Melanie's been motioning for me to get over there, and my sister is 'she who cannot be denied.'"

Laughing together, we strolled across the grass to Melanie and Queen Jillian.

"You took long enough," Melanie scolded. "Ashley, this is Jillian Oliver, our queen, and a most talented actress. Jillian, my baby sister, Ashley."

Jillian smiled graciously and extended her hand. "Ashley, I'm pleased to meet you. And hi, again, Tiffany. You're so sweet to give this party for us. Now, Ashley, Melanie has been telling me all about your living in New York and studying at Parsons. Do you miss the big city?"

"Not really. I loved New York when I lived there, and I go back to visit friends." My college roommate and her brother live in New York and we see each other often. "And catch up on Broadway plays. But this is home; I'm happy here."

"Ashley, Melanie, I just love your names. We don't have such romantic names in my family. But this is a most romantic place. I've never been to Wilmington before but now that I'm here, I just adore it. How lucky you are to live in this garden paradise."

"Thanks," I said, rather surprised that a big star could be so nice.

Mindy Chesterton, who had the leading role on Dolphin's Cove, flounced over to us, flicked her scarf at a lounge chair to dislodge imaginary dust, then settled into it. Mindy was buxom in her pink satin gown that fit like a second skin.

"I can't wait till this tacky festival is over," she complained. "Whatever made Cameron think having the cast participate in the Azalea Festival would be good publicity for the show?"

Cameron Jordan was the executive producer of Dolphin's Cove and the president of Gem Star Pictures which he founded. He was also Melanie's current amour.

I turned to Tiffany and lifted my eyebrows, as if to inquire, What's eating her?

Tiffany made a slight shrug. Don't ask me.

Melanie, who doesn't take anything from anybody, said, "Cam knows what he's doing."

Tiffany interceded, making peace, "Mindy, you know Ashley, don't you? She's Melanie's younger sister."

"Of course I know Ashley. In Wilmington, people from good families all know each other."

Was that a put down? A slight because Tiffany was descended from a slave?

Mindy gave some passing belles a haughty stare. "I used to have to dress up like that when I was a belle. Ya'll know what they've got on under those ballgowns? Hoops and pantaloons. A bustle. The whole outfit must weigh ten pounds." She leered. "Know what I've got on under this gown?"