Murder on the Cape Fear by Ellen Elizabeth Hunter

with fine homes and kids in college, with beach houses, and full and complicated lives.
    “ A lot of people are saying your characters are caricatures that portray Southerners as uneducated and backward. Still, I’d like to play fair with you. I’ll be glad to have one of my assistants take a second look at your books.”
    Patsy’s face contorted with rage. She jumped up. “Don’t go doin’ me no favors. I got where I am without a favor from nobody. Now, I plum lost my appetite. And I sure as heck ain’t got no appetite for breakin’ bread with you folks. Fact is, I never want to lay eyes on any of your kind again.”
    She whirled on Melanie, who was hugging herself as if bracing for the verbal pistol whipping she sensed was coming.
    “ You done lied to me from day one, missy. You led me to believe Captain Pettigrew’s house was for sale, but all I ever heard out of Ashley’s mouth was that it was not for sale.”
    Then she turned on me. “And you, little miss, you are the worst kind of hostess. Whoever taught you your manners was sadly delinquent. You know nothin’ ‘bout makin’ a guest feel at home. You go creepin’ out of your own house without a word of goodbye or leavin’ us keys, like me and Jimmy were infected with the bubonic plague. You got no food in your kitchen for the hungry in your midst. And you make a fuss ‘bout the least littlest thing.”
    The doorbell was ringing at the front of the house but no one was brave enough to get up to answer the door. We were all taken aback by the intensity and suddenness of her attack, and were temporarily frozen in place.
    I glanced at Jon and read controlled anger in his body language. And Cam looked guilty, as if he was somehow responsible for this outburst because he had refused to agree to give her the TV series she coveted.
    “ Come on, Jimmy,” Patsy hollered. “We are out of here. I know when we ain’t welcome and we ain’t welcome here and never were.” She moved toward the kitchen door that was standing open, a nonplused Jimmy in tow. He appeared almost bored. He had lived through these tirades too many times.
    But Patsy wasn’t finished. Before stepping through the kitchen door, she turned to deliver another tongue lashing. The doorbell shrilled again, silencing her momentarily, and Jon jumped up. “I’ll get that.” He squeezed by Patsy and hurried into the house.
    I looked at Melanie and she looked at me. She was embarrassed. So was I. Poor Cam.
    “ We ain’t got no choice but to spend the night here,” Patsy declared. “Ain’t got nowhere else to sleep. But first thing in the morning, we are outta here.”
    She turned back toward the house, but was blocked by Jon and the man he was leading out onto the patio.
    Melanie jumped up and rushed forward. “Drew! I lost all track of time.” She circled past Patsy and Jimmy, and grabbed the man by the hand. “Come on out and meet everybody. You’ve already met Jon. And this is his bride--to--be, my sister Ashley. And that’s my fiancé Cam.”
    Melanie pointed us out, and Cam stood up, hand extended. I think we were all relieved for a break in the extreme tension.
    The new arrival looked at us and smiled. If the scene seemed strained, or the introductions seemed rushed and awkward, he didn’t reveal that he had noticed. Instead he asked, “Am I early? I thought you said eight, but I may have misunderstood.”
    “ Oh, no, Drew, you are right on time.” She turned him toward us. “Everyone this is Drew Ramsey. Drew leads a twelve--piece orchestra with three backup singers. His group is called ‘The Platinum Band’ because they specialize in wedding parties. They are going to play for us, at our wedding reception.”
    “ Oh,” I exclaimed happily, and perked up. The wedding! I was instantly grateful. In the midst of her busiest weekend, Melanie had made time to continue planning our wedding. And Drew and his group would entertain. Now we were onto something positive. Patsy the