Read Online Murder on the Cape Fear by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ellen Elizabeth Hunter
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house. She’s engaged to a local man and she’s already been asked to join a local surgical practice. Her father will move into the Captain’s house with her after we’ve remodeled it. Jon and I are outfitting the first floor to meet the needs of a handicapped person.”
“ Tell me again how that lineage goes, Ashley,” Aunt Ruby requested.
“ Captain Pettigrew never married, so he had no direct descendants. He disappeared at the end of the Civil War and his family never knew what happened to him. They believed he went down with his ship because his ship was never heard of again either. Those last days of the war were chaotic.”
“ Laura Gaston is descended from the Captain’s younger sister Lacey,” Binkie said. “I’ve ascertained her genealogy. Lacey Pettigrew married Andrew Gaston, a young man she met after the war. Together they produced two sons: one died in childhood, the other grew to manhood, married and had a family.”
I jumped in. “And sadly most of that family was wiped out during the great influenza pandemic of 1918. Few survived, until today Laura and her father are the last of that line. With his poor health he has transferred his interest in the house to Laura.”
“ Why, I declare,” Aunt Ruby said, “it is amazing that the family managed to hold on to that house.”
“ For that we can thank Lacey Pettigrew. She had the foresight to set up a trust fund with the money Thomas had earned and saved and entrusted to his mother. The trust fund paid for the upkeep of the house and the taxes. She was determined that it remain in the family and as you can imagine that was difficult during Reconstruction. She herself lived in the house until she died, long after Andrew Gaston had passed on and her only surviving son had gone out into the world. Trustees have administered the trust ever since. The trust was almost broke until Laura’s fiancé stepped in and provided the funds to pay last year’s taxes. Vandals had been breaking into the house and the city was about to condemn the property. Laura persuaded them she would repair and restore the house, and she borrowed money based on her future earnings to do so.”
“ Amazing story,” Aunt Ruby said. “Just shows how determined folks can be to hold on to their heritage.”
“ I can’t wait to see how wonderful you make that house, Ashley,” Binkie said. “You and Jon perform miracles. It will be the showplace of the community if I know anything.”
“ Thanks,” I said. “You are both dears and I love you to death. Thanks for lunch and now I’ve got to run along home to check on my house and see if it is still standing or if that dreadful Patsy Pogue has had the house movers come and carry it off to Charlotte, another one of her ‘pickins.”
I walked south to the corner of Nun Street, then turned east toward Third. On the corner of Second and Nun stood the stately Verandas with its tiers of porches, front and back, one of two B&Bs in Wilmington to be chosen by Select Registry. Historically it had been Captain Benjamin Beery’s house. Captain Beery had been a ship builder during the Civil War and had constructed a monitor atop the house from which lookout he spied for Yankee ironclads on the Cape Fear River.
Most times my street is peaceful. The houses have front porches with rocking chairs and wicker furniture and there are flowers blooming profusely in pots and around the steps. A tranquil, shady street that exudes peacefulness.
Like my neighbors, I too had a porch that overlooked the street. And my porch was where the firemen had gathered. I ran the rest of the way to my steps and mounted them in a rush, shouting, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
A pall of greasy smoke hung in the air. “This is my house,” I told the firemen. “Where’s the fire?”
“ Everything’s under control, ma’am,” one fireman told me. “Just a little kitchen fire.”
“ Kitchen fire!” I screamed.
A defiant Patsy stood
“ Tell me again how that lineage goes, Ashley,” Aunt Ruby requested.
“ Captain Pettigrew never married, so he had no direct descendants. He disappeared at the end of the Civil War and his family never knew what happened to him. They believed he went down with his ship because his ship was never heard of again either. Those last days of the war were chaotic.”
“ Laura Gaston is descended from the Captain’s younger sister Lacey,” Binkie said. “I’ve ascertained her genealogy. Lacey Pettigrew married Andrew Gaston, a young man she met after the war. Together they produced two sons: one died in childhood, the other grew to manhood, married and had a family.”
I jumped in. “And sadly most of that family was wiped out during the great influenza pandemic of 1918. Few survived, until today Laura and her father are the last of that line. With his poor health he has transferred his interest in the house to Laura.”
“ Why, I declare,” Aunt Ruby said, “it is amazing that the family managed to hold on to that house.”
“ For that we can thank Lacey Pettigrew. She had the foresight to set up a trust fund with the money Thomas had earned and saved and entrusted to his mother. The trust fund paid for the upkeep of the house and the taxes. She was determined that it remain in the family and as you can imagine that was difficult during Reconstruction. She herself lived in the house until she died, long after Andrew Gaston had passed on and her only surviving son had gone out into the world. Trustees have administered the trust ever since. The trust was almost broke until Laura’s fiancé stepped in and provided the funds to pay last year’s taxes. Vandals had been breaking into the house and the city was about to condemn the property. Laura persuaded them she would repair and restore the house, and she borrowed money based on her future earnings to do so.”
“ Amazing story,” Aunt Ruby said. “Just shows how determined folks can be to hold on to their heritage.”
“ I can’t wait to see how wonderful you make that house, Ashley,” Binkie said. “You and Jon perform miracles. It will be the showplace of the community if I know anything.”
“ Thanks,” I said. “You are both dears and I love you to death. Thanks for lunch and now I’ve got to run along home to check on my house and see if it is still standing or if that dreadful Patsy Pogue has had the house movers come and carry it off to Charlotte, another one of her ‘pickins.”
I walked south to the corner of Nun Street, then turned east toward Third. On the corner of Second and Nun stood the stately Verandas with its tiers of porches, front and back, one of two B&Bs in Wilmington to be chosen by Select Registry. Historically it had been Captain Benjamin Beery’s house. Captain Beery had been a ship builder during the Civil War and had constructed a monitor atop the house from which lookout he spied for Yankee ironclads on the Cape Fear River.
Most times my street is peaceful. The houses have front porches with rocking chairs and wicker furniture and there are flowers blooming profusely in pots and around the steps. A tranquil, shady street that exudes peacefulness.
Like my neighbors, I too had a porch that overlooked the street. And my porch was where the firemen had gathered. I ran the rest of the way to my steps and mounted them in a rush, shouting, “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
A pall of greasy smoke hung in the air. “This is my house,” I told the firemen. “Where’s the fire?”
“ Everything’s under control, ma’am,” one fireman told me. “Just a little kitchen fire.”
“ Kitchen fire!” I screamed.
A defiant Patsy stood
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