Murder at the Holiday Flotilla by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter Read Free Book Online Page B

Sunday morning, my family was gathered at my house, poring over the Sunday Star-News. My dining room smelled of fresh coffee and the Krispy Kreme donuts Cam and Melanie had picked up on their drive in from the Waterway. Aunt Ruby was out in the kitchen, scrambling eggs and Binkie was helping her.
    Coverage of the holiday flotilla appeared on the front page with a color photo of the parade of ships. But the death of prominent realtor/developer Wren Redfield nominated the news reports. And of course that the accident had occurred at Melanie’s house during her flotilla party had the news media spinning out of orbit.
    We skipped to the Local News section where in-depth reporting of the flotilla appeared. The reporters made much of the fact that Melanie was about to be inaugurated as the president of the NCAR at a dinner-dance to be held at the new convention center. As if accidents never happen to people in public positions.
    Jon took the international section and sat down at the head of the table. “Oh my gosh,” he uttered.
    “ What?” I asked.
    “ Han Cheng. Remember Han Cheng?”
    “ How could we ever forget that man,” I groaned.
    Once upon a time, Han Cheng had been a client of Melanie’s. He and his wife had been trying to buy a local mansion. But the deal fell through when it was discovered that Cheng was trading in ivory, a loathsome act of cruelty to endangered elephants and prohibited by international treaty. As the Fish and Wildlife officers made their way to Wilmington to board Cheng’s yacht, he and the yacht disappeared in the middle of the night like a ghost ship vanishing in the fog.
    “ What’s that dreadful man done now?” Melanie asked.
    “ It’s not what he’s done but what has been done to him,” Jon replied, an astonished expression on his face. “His yacht was seized by Somali pirates. He and his yacht are being held for ransom. But the Chinese government isn’t cooperating. And no one knows if his shipping company will put up the money. In fact, the Chinese government is threatening to seize his assets.”
    Jon shook his head. “Doesn’t look good for old Han.”
    “ I have no sympathy for that man,” Melanie declared.
    “ Neither do I,” I said.
    Cam grinned. “We’ve got some tough women here, Jon.”
    “ Can’t say that I’m sympathetic myself,” Jon said. “Man gets what he deserves.”
    Cam said, “It always amazes me how the universe renders justice. You think some lowlifes are getting away with their lowlife deeds, then you learn that their histories have caught up with them.”
    “ I sure wish the Fish and Wildlife agency would do something about the blood sport of penned fox hunting,” I muttered.
    Everyone at the table had heard me venting about that subject for days.
    Melanie pushed the State and Local news section away in disgust. Cam picked it up and flipped through the pages idly. “I see the gaming industry is looking for ways to get around the ban on video sweepstakes parlors.”
    Our General Assembly had added a ban on video sweepstakes parlors to the ban on video poker games in an attempt to save gambling addicts from their own weaknesses and financial ruin.
    “ Just so they don’t take away our lotto tickets,” Cam said with a grin.
    Melanie’s cell phone sang to her. She took the call, wandering away from the table. “What?” she exclaimed. “You can’t mean that. How was I supposed to prevent a fall?”
    So someone was calling her about the accident. I had been expecting that to happen. Last night after a frantic call to 911 the EMTs arrived. They confirmed that Wren was dead. And that it appeared his neck was broken. The medical examiner had to be sent for, standard procedure in an unexplained death.
    Before they arrived, I slipped past Wren’s still form to go upstairs to be with my babies. I knew that once the EMTs arrived, I would be unable to use the stairs. Jon wasn’t able to get by. He and I communicated by cell phone from upstairs