Murder at the Bellamy Mansion Read Online Free PDF

I recall was eating Esther’s delicious hot cakes for breakfast that morning. After that, nothing. Till I woke up here this morning. Your ex was here, Ashley, with that woman detective, asking all kinds of questions.”
    Esther harrumphed. “Wanted to know if we had enemies. What kind of question is that? He doesn’t have an enemy in the world and neither do I. We spend our days helping folks, not making enemies of them.”
    Willie said, “I’m getting too old for this, Jon. Too old to be climbing round up there in that belvedere. It’s time for me to retire, to turn the business over to the youngsters. I’m thinking on that.”
    “ Oh Willie,” I cried again. “What would we do without you? You’ve got more knowledge about how these old houses in Wilmington were constructed than anyone.”
    “ But we can understand you might feel that way, Willie,” Jon said. “After the traumatic experience you’ve had you must be re-evaluating everything. But this isn’t the time to make a big decision. Why don’t you wait until you’re feeling like your old self again?”
    “ Whatever you decide, we’ll respect your decision,” I said. “You know there’s a strong police presence around the mansion now, ensuring our safety whenever we go back up into the belvedere.”
    “ He is not retiring,” Esther said firmly. “Do you know that folks who retire live, on average, two years? I don’t want that happening to my husband. Besides,” she said, turning to Willie, “you’d be underfoot. Won’t know what to do with yourself. No sir, as long as you are healthy, you stick to your profession. Cut your hours if you want, but you are not hanging around the house.”
    Casting her warm brown eyes my way, she said, “You know what women say, don’t you, Ashley? ‘Marry for life, but not for lunch.’” She grinned.
    Willie glanced at Esther, then back to us. “We’ll talk ‘bout this later when I’ve got my strength and my memory back. Been lying here thinking about the old days, ‘bout my daddy and his daddy before him. There’s something ‘bout getting old that makes you feel closer to the ones that came before you. Don’t know if I ever told you this but it was my great-granddaddy who installed all that fancy plumbing and the gas lines in the Bellamy house.
    “ Not mansion, mind you, but house. That’s what the Bellamy family used to call it: house.”
    “ I had no idea your family were the original plumbers,” I said. “The plumbing was extraordinary for its day. So far ahead of its time. Imagine, it was eighteen-sixty and they had hot and cold running water, and warm showers. That was just about unheard of.”
    “ And it was your family who were the plumbers?” Jon asked with awe.
    “ Yes sir. My great-granddaddy Wilfred Hudson. I was named for him. He was a freedman. One of the finest craftsmen Wilmington has ever known. An educated man too. He was taught to read and write at James Sampson’s School for Free Negroes. Then he taught his sons to read.”
    “ And his daughters,” Esther interjected.
    “ You know the Bellamy Mansion was built by African-American craftsmen and artisans.”
    “ We did know that,” I said.
    “ There were many whites in those days who resented that too,” Esther said. “But they didn’t get the jobs because they weren’t as talented as our people were. But they were quite vocal ‘bout their grievances. One of the town leaders said he didn’t want any more animosity between the races than we already had, and he put a stop to it.”
    “ I see a lot of my father in Lonnie. And Lonnie would like to take over the business,” Willie said. “He’s a good boy, a hard worker.”
    “ And smart,” Esther said. “You can give him a bigger role. I’ve got no problem with that.”
    Lonnie was at least fifty-five, hardly a boy, but I suppose you are always a boy or a girl to your parents.
    “ Now Mason’s got it in his head that he’s gonna get taken on at the