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Authors: Ellen Elizabeth Hunter
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said. “That’s why it’s so good. I’m going to live to be a hundred with her watching out for me. You know she’s a retired nurse,” he said proudly. “She knows what’s good for folks our age.”
“ Folks of any age,” I said, and bit into the dense grainy bread. “Oh, yum, this is scrumptious. You know, Binkie, I think you have lured every bird in New Hanover County into your garden.” There were bird feeders of various sizes, filled with a variety of seed, and a bird bath. Sunflowers grew at the far wall that separated Binkie’s garden from his neighbor’s property and mourning doves waddled along under them in hopes of a fallen seed.
Several hibiscuses were blooming a brilliant red. “The humming birds love those red flowers,” Binkie said, drumming his fingertips impatiently on the patio table. He was eager to hear what I had to say.
“ It’s amazingly quiet out here,” I said. From the street came the steady clip-clop of the Springbrook Farms horse and carriage as it carried tourists through the district.
“ Yes, for downtown it is quiet, thanks to our abundant live oak trees and magnolias, and our many azalea bushes. The foliage absorbs noise.”
In the background Memorial Bridge sang with traffic, a sound I was accustomed to and found soothing. There was intermittent street traffic. Then the quiet was obliterated by a fire truck roaring by, siren warbling.
When Aunt Ruby rejoined us with a plate of more sandwiches, I related my news, “I had a call from my client, Laura Gaston. We discussed the progress on the house, and she asked about the murder at Two Sisters. Seems we made the national news - a murder in a bookstore during a book signing, interest there - so she heard about it in New York.”
“ New York!” Binkie exclaimed. “That was the return address. She sent the journal!”
“ She asked me if you had received it. She apologized for sending it by FedEx. She has begun packing for her move back to Wilmington but wanted to get the journal into your hands. And she’s off to a medical convention.”
“ And did you tell her the journal might be at the motive for the murder here?” Binkie asked.
“ I did and she is as puzzled as we are. She has looked through the Captain’s journal and can’t believe someone would kill to get it. She said she had included a letter to you. Did you see a letter?”
“ No,” Binkie answered thoughtfully. “It must have remained in the envelope when I withdrew the journal.”
“ So whoever stole the envelope has the letter too and knows the journal was sent by Laura Gaston,” Aunt Ruby said.
“ I wonder if he didn’t already know that,” I speculated. “Otherwise, how would he have known about the delivery of the journal to Binkie?”
“ Unless the dead man told him,” Binkie said.
“ But how did the dead man know?” I asked.
Binkie answered, “He must know Laura Gaston and knows that she had a journal in her possession that she was sending to me. And of course the journal had to have been written by Captain Pettigrew.”
“ Laura and her father are Captain Pettigrew’s only living relatives. And her father has been in poor health for several years, ever since that hit and run accident.”
“ Oh, I remember that,” Binkie exclaimed. “It happened right out there on Third as he was crossing the street. Traffic moves much too fast on that street. And the driver didn’t stop and was never traced.”
“ Laura’s father had been living in the Captain’s house until the accident. Then he just couldn’t manage in that large house alone. And Laura was in medical school at the time. Now he lives here in the historic district in a small apartment in a private residence. He’s in a wheel chair and has to have nurses. He is why Laura became a surgeon, so she could help injured victims like her father. She has finished her surgical residency at New York University Hospital, and she’s moving here to live in the Captain’s
“ Folks of any age,” I said, and bit into the dense grainy bread. “Oh, yum, this is scrumptious. You know, Binkie, I think you have lured every bird in New Hanover County into your garden.” There were bird feeders of various sizes, filled with a variety of seed, and a bird bath. Sunflowers grew at the far wall that separated Binkie’s garden from his neighbor’s property and mourning doves waddled along under them in hopes of a fallen seed.
Several hibiscuses were blooming a brilliant red. “The humming birds love those red flowers,” Binkie said, drumming his fingertips impatiently on the patio table. He was eager to hear what I had to say.
“ It’s amazingly quiet out here,” I said. From the street came the steady clip-clop of the Springbrook Farms horse and carriage as it carried tourists through the district.
“ Yes, for downtown it is quiet, thanks to our abundant live oak trees and magnolias, and our many azalea bushes. The foliage absorbs noise.”
In the background Memorial Bridge sang with traffic, a sound I was accustomed to and found soothing. There was intermittent street traffic. Then the quiet was obliterated by a fire truck roaring by, siren warbling.
When Aunt Ruby rejoined us with a plate of more sandwiches, I related my news, “I had a call from my client, Laura Gaston. We discussed the progress on the house, and she asked about the murder at Two Sisters. Seems we made the national news - a murder in a bookstore during a book signing, interest there - so she heard about it in New York.”
“ New York!” Binkie exclaimed. “That was the return address. She sent the journal!”
“ She asked me if you had received it. She apologized for sending it by FedEx. She has begun packing for her move back to Wilmington but wanted to get the journal into your hands. And she’s off to a medical convention.”
“ And did you tell her the journal might be at the motive for the murder here?” Binkie asked.
“ I did and she is as puzzled as we are. She has looked through the Captain’s journal and can’t believe someone would kill to get it. She said she had included a letter to you. Did you see a letter?”
“ No,” Binkie answered thoughtfully. “It must have remained in the envelope when I withdrew the journal.”
“ So whoever stole the envelope has the letter too and knows the journal was sent by Laura Gaston,” Aunt Ruby said.
“ I wonder if he didn’t already know that,” I speculated. “Otherwise, how would he have known about the delivery of the journal to Binkie?”
“ Unless the dead man told him,” Binkie said.
“ But how did the dead man know?” I asked.
Binkie answered, “He must know Laura Gaston and knows that she had a journal in her possession that she was sending to me. And of course the journal had to have been written by Captain Pettigrew.”
“ Laura and her father are Captain Pettigrew’s only living relatives. And her father has been in poor health for several years, ever since that hit and run accident.”
“ Oh, I remember that,” Binkie exclaimed. “It happened right out there on Third as he was crossing the street. Traffic moves much too fast on that street. And the driver didn’t stop and was never traced.”
“ Laura’s father had been living in the Captain’s house until the accident. Then he just couldn’t manage in that large house alone. And Laura was in medical school at the time. Now he lives here in the historic district in a small apartment in a private residence. He’s in a wheel chair and has to have nurses. He is why Laura became a surgeon, so she could help injured victims like her father. She has finished her surgical residency at New York University Hospital, and she’s moving here to live in the Captain’s
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