This Old Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  “No! That’s not true. Chad was on his way here to tell us that Bobby Valentine invited everyone to eat there, for breaks as well as for lunch. The food is provided by merchants on the island for a credit-I think he called it a credit-at the end of the show. I saw it-it’s a feast!”

  They didn’t have to be invited twice.

  Josie’s first thought, upon spying the lavish spread laid out on two large tables and shaded by multicolored beach umbrellas, was to wonder why anyone would ever eat a rice cake when such delicious bounty was available. She was piling sugary Bismarcks on a large paper plate when she noticed Courtney walking by, a can of Diet Coke in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other.

  “I see you still have that sweet tooth,” Courtney said, speeding up so that Josie didn’t have time to respond.

  Josie opened her mouth and then, realizing what she was looking at, closed it again. Son of a gun, she thought. “I see you’re still a sourpuss” was what she called out, picking up a doughnut and taking a large bite. Too large, it turned out. A chunk of sugary coating stuck in her throat and she began to choke. Embarrassingly enough, everyone came to her aid. By the time her back had been slapped and offers to try out newly acquired Heimlich skills refused, Courtney was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, smiling at the camera set up before her.

  “If you’re feeling better, they’re going to need you in a few minutes,” Bobby Valentine said.

  “Why?”

  “Courtney wants to tape the show’s opening introducing you and the project.”

  “But I thought that wasn’t going to happen today!”

  “Courtney thought this would be a good day. I guess she’s had time to glance at the background notes on you and Island Contracting and she’s ready to go.”

  “And when Courtney is ready to go, you go?”

  He shrugged. “She’s the star of the whole shebang.”

  “Do I have time to put on makeup?”

  “Well, we were aiming more for the natural look.” He glanced over at Courtney.

  Josie looked, too. Courtney’s cheeks were pink, her eyelashes black, and her lips bright red. She looked wonderful, but not… “That’s natural?” Josie asked.

  “That’s what Courtney looks like on the air. Always. Period.”

  Josie took a second look at Courtney. “Oh, well, I suppose she would look better than I do even if I had makeup on and a fresh haircut.”

  “Let’s face it. If you were better-looking than Courtney, you probably wouldn’t have been chosen to be on the show. Besides, you look very alive, very perky.”

  “Thanks.” Faint praise was better than none at all. “I think you’re being waved at.”

  “Time to get this baby on tape. Want to borrow my comb again?”

  “I think I’ll settle for the windblown look.” She tried to tuck in her T-shirt as they walked over to join Courtney and the cameraman. “I’ve heard the camera adds five pounds.”

  “Ten actually. Ready to tape, Courtney?”

  “Just waiting for you.” She scowled at Josie.

  “I’m here now.” Josie scowled back. Just like old times. “Where do you want me to stand?”

  “We were just thinking that you both could be perched on the deck railing-on either side of the corner.” The cameraman pointed. “Light’s good. House is in the background and if I pan to the right, there’s a nice view of the bay.”

  Courtney smiled. “Sounds good to me. What about you, Josie?”

  “Fine.” She tried to emulate the energetic little jump that put Courtney up onto the railing and heard the wood creak ominously. “Shouldn’t I be prepared? What are you going to ask me?”

  “You know, we used to give guests lists of questions and what we discovered was that they prepared answers and the show lost some spontaneity.”

  “Besides, you’re only going to be asked about your life and work. You know the answers,” Bobby Valentine added, probably seeing the worried expression on Josie’s face.

  “We’re going to lose the light behind us in an hour or so,” the cameraman warned them.

  “I’m just going to introduce you and then off we go,” Courtney explained, and then, without a pause, did just that. “Welcome to Courtney Castle’s Castles. Would you like to own a summer home? Someplace to kick back and relax? Maybe someplace with a dock for your boat? Well, we’ve found a place just like that. But it needs a lot of work and that’s where Josie Pigeon and Island Contracting come in.”

  And suddenly Courtney turned to face her and Josie realized she was on. “Hi, Josie.”

  Well, that was easy. “Hi, Courtney.” She tried to match Courtney’s enthusiasm.

  But Courtney was talking to the camera. “Josie is a carpenter who owns her own contracting company here on the island. The company employs only women.” Courtney smiled. “I always like to think that my feminist sisters are getting a break, but tell me, is this type of discrimination legal, Josie?”

  It came at her out of left field. “Ah…” She thought furiously. “We don’t hire workers just because they are women. But there are still many companies that do discriminate against female workers, so these women need jobs. And, you know, we would hire men…” She realized she was talking to the side of Courtney’s face.

  “Do you find the women are as well trained as men doing the same jobs?”

  “As well or better. And some of the women we’ve hired have unique skills. Jill Pike, who is working on this project with Island Contracting, has spent some time in the Northwest, where she participated in building cob homes.”

  “She made a home from corncobs?”

  Josie felt as if she had the upper hand for a moment and decided to make the most of it. “No, Courtney, cob construction is an ancient building technique. Cob is a mixture of sand, straw, and clay. Jill and the group she was working with built six homes from that material over the course of two summers.”

  “In the Northwest?”

  “Yes, and I know what you’re thinking. The material is completely impervious to rain once it dries.”

  Courtney seemed speechless for a few minutes. “How interesting. Ah…”

  “It’s really fascinating,” Josie continued. “Families can actually build their own homes without much professional help and save considerable amounts of money-”

  “Speaking of women, work, and families, Josie. How does your family feel about the life you’ve chosen?”

  Josie smiled. “My son, Tyler, is sixteen years old and I think he’s proud of what I do. When he was small, he and I used to bicycle around the island in good weather and he would point out what he called Mommy’s houses.”

  “I was referring to the rest of your family. Your mother and father. How do they feel about you being a carpenter? Are they also proud of your handiwork?”

  “I haven’t… that is, they haven’t…” She took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to say. “My parents don’t live on the island” was all she came up with. She was busy trying to keep a scowl off her face. That damn camera was still going.

  “That’s too bad. They might be proud to see how successful their little girl is.” Courtney turned back to the camera, smiled, and changed the subject. “So we’ll be meeting more women than we usually do on our shows during this project. Tell us a bit about the island, Josie. I gather you’re not a native? How long have you lived here?”

  Josie tried to keep her voice modulated. “No, I’m not. I came here right after… over a dozen years ago.”

  “So you were here during the boom years of the late eighties, when real estate values increased dramatically.”

  “Yes.” Josie decided it was time to get the attention away from her personal life. “But this house was built before that time. This house was built in the midsixties by a developer who put up at least a couple of dozen of these homes, usually doing exactly what he did here-buying up an entire block and filling it with a line of identical little A-frames.

  “The
re aren’t many left in their original state,” Josie continued, wondering why the questions had stopped. “This job is interesting because instead of tearing down the entire structure and building something new, the owners have chosen to retain parts of the original house. We’re even extending the chimney from the first floor up through the roof of the new addition.”

  Josie didn’t know what else to say, so she stopped talking and waited for Courtney to pick up the ball.

  But Courtney was sitting quietly, looking a bit like she’d adopted some Buddhist practice. There was a slight smile on her lips and her eyes seemed to be focused on something far away in the distance.

  “Cut!” Bobby Valentine ended the moment. “Do you want to do the walk-through of the house now or wait until after lunch?” he asked Courtney.

  “I suppose we may as well block it out now.”

  Josie was amazed by the transformation. When the camera was on, Courtney was bright and alert. But without an imaginary audience, she almost seemed deflated. “Block it out? Do you need me?”

  “What do you think, Court? Do you want to do the walk-through alone or with Josie?”

  Bobby Valentine’s question pulled Courtney back from the vast beyond. Her eyes focused on her producer and she seemed to consider the question.

  “Maybe it would be best if Josie came along and she could suggest where we run into her crew members,” Bobby Valentine suggested. “We probably won’t introduce everyone during one show, but we try to give the audience an opportunity early in the series to recognize the people who will be on the set. It serves two purposes. First, it’s less distracting. Viewers don’t need to be wondering about the man-or woman-in a background shot while Courtney is talking or doing an interview. And it helps the viewer relate to the project.”

  “Why does that matter?” Josie asked, thankful for the arm he offered to help her get off the railing more gracefully than she had gotten on, and then followed him through the door into the house.

  “Our show is supposed to be educational, at least that’s how it’s billed. And we do show almost every new product on the market as well as the ways to use them. And certainly anyone planning to work on a house can get lots of great ideas by watching. But most of our viewers will never do anything as extensive or expensive as the jobs we show. They tune in because it’s fun to imagine being involved in a large-scale remodeling project without the grief or the expense involved in real life.”

  “You’re saying Courtney Castle’s Castles is entertainment.”

  He grinned. “Yup. But don’t tell anyone involved in public broadcasting. We used to get government funding to do this stuff, remember.”

  Josie noticed he was looking over her shoulder through the still open doorway. “Isn’t Courtney coming?”

  “It’s difficult to know just what she’s doing these days.” The words seemed to be said more to himself than in answer to her question. “But,” he continued firmly, “why don’t you and I go through the house and we can discuss how your work is going to connect with ours. Courtney can catch up later.”

  “Great.”

  “Courtney will introduce you on the deck in the first shot of the first show. And since she’ll mention your unique crew at that time, we think another introduction should take place within that half hour. Maybe someone could be finishing up a last bit of demolition in here?”

  “Well, we’re protecting the chimney and hearth down here. Maybe-”

  Josie was interrupted by a loud screech. It was so loud and frightening that at first she feared someone had been murdered. But it turned out to be the beginning of a Courtney Castle temper tantrum.

  EIGHT

  ANNETTE LONG WAS pink with excitement. “You should have seen her! She was completely off the wall!”

  “You’re right. I couldn’t imagine what was going on,” Jill agreed, nodding furiously.

  “Hysterical bitch.” Dottie was typically succinct.

  Josie looked down at the plate in front of her. Caesar salad with grilled shrimp. Marinated roasted red peppers. Fresh rolls and butter. And there were three cheesecakes being cut up for dessert. Plain, chocolate, and raspberry. “But there are fringe benefits for putting up with her,” she reminded them.

  “She’s so thin. I don’t know how she eats all this stuff without gaining weight. Do you think she has a personal trainer?” Annette asked.

  “Ha!” Jill was sarcastic. “She doesn’t eat real food. Every time I see her, she’s taking tiny little bites from one of those disgusting rice cakes. I’d rather eat sawdust!”

  “Anorexic bitch.” Dottie patted her protruding stomach fondly.

  “I suspect we won’t be seeing all that much of her. I’m beginning to get the impression that Island Contracting is just scenery for Courtney Castle’s Castles,” Josie said, a frown on her face.

  “Oh, good, can I be a tree?” Jill asked. The women were sitting together on the dock behind the house, and Jill reached out, plucked a branch from an evergreen bush overhanging the water, and stuck it jauntily behind her left ear.

  “Me, too,” Annette said, giggling and running off the dock to collect more branches. “Here.” She handed one to Dottie, who jammed it into her hair so that it stuck up like a feather in a child’s Native American headdress. “You, too,” she said impulsively, and, forgetting that Josie was the boss, began tucking leaves and tiny branches into her mop of red hair.

  Josie laughed and stuck a curl of red pepper in her mouth like a lizard’s proboscis. “You guys be the flora and I’ll be the fauna,” she said, giggling. These women hadn’t been working for her for long and she was usually reluctant to “let down her hair” with new employees, but the taping was creating a lot of tension and she couldn’t resist the temptation to let off a bit of steam. Apparently the others felt the same way-except for Dottie, who was still scowling. Or maybe scowling was something Dottie enjoyed; she certainly did it enough.

  Josie picked up a long roll, held it like a microphone in front of her face, and stood. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Josephine Pigeon, host of Pigeon’s… Pigeon’s Palaces.”

  The women shrieked with laughter.

  “And I would like to introduce you to my crew.” She held the roll out to Annette. “This is Annette Long, star of Annette’s Adobes, a build-it-yourself-with-the-stuff-in-your-backyard show. And this woman is Dottie Evans, star of Dottie’s Duplexes, building for two-”

  “How about Dottie’s Dives?” Annette suggested through giggles.

  “I was hoping for Dottie’s Dumps. Build your own trashy place to crash,” Dottie admitted, almost smiling.

  “And me! What about me?” Jill demanded.

  “Jill’s…” Josie drew a blank. “ Jill’s what?”

  “I have it,” Dottie said, really getting into the swing of things. “How about Jill Pike, builder of the House of Jill Repute.”

  “I love it!” Annette jumped up and down, causing the whole dock to shake. “House of Jill Repute! That’s a good one!” She seemed to notice a lack of enthusiasm in Jill’s response. “Don’t you get it? Jill Repute. Like Ill Repute. Like a whorehouse.”

  “I get it. I get it.” Jill sounded weary, and Josie jumped in to rescue the moment.

  “How about Jill’s Joints? It can go on the air right after Dottie’s Dumps. We’ll create a new Saturday-night lineup for PBS. Dottie’s Dumps, Jill’s Joints, Annette’s Adobes, and then… ta da…” Josie took a deep bow before continuing. “ Pigeon’s Palaces. Who needs Courtney Castle and her dumb show?”

  “Yeah, you’re better than that snob any day of the week,” Annette said enthusiastically. “They should give you a show. And we could all be on it! We’d knock Courtney Castle dead!”

  “I’m afraid someone’s beaten you to it.”

  The women turned to see who was speaking.

  Two men, their regulation police uniforms covered with international orange vests, stood together, arms crossed, serious expressions on their closely shav
en faces. Josie recognized one of them. “Mike, did you say something?” she asked Mike Rodney, police officer, son of the island’s police chief, and all-around pain in the ass as far as she was concerned.

  “Well, I guess I did, didn’t I, Mark?” he asked the man standing by his side.

  “You sure did, Mike. You said-”

  But Mike Rodney apparently wanted to offer the information himself.

  “I said I was afraid someone had beaten her to it and that’s what I meant.”

  “Beaten who to what? What are you talking about?” Josie was pulling the leaves from her hair as she spoke. She was becoming nervous. Mike was an idiot, but she had seen that expression on his face before. “What’s going on? Has something happened?”

  “I’ll say something’s happened. Tell them, Mikey.”

  That distracted Josie. She had never heard anyone call Mike Rodney “Mikey” and she had known him ever since she came to the island. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Mikey’s cousin. My name’s Mark.”

  “Mark Rodney?” Josie asked, slightly incredulous.

  “Mark Stern. He doesn’t have to have the same last name to be my cousin. Mark’s father is my mother’s brother,” Mike explained. “And don’t call me Mikey,” he told Mark.

  “So why are you two here? Why aren’t you out doing crowd control? What’s going on?” Dottie asked.

  “We have a bigger problem than crowds,” Mike said.

  Mark looked as though he might burst if he didn’t speak up. “Yeah, somebody may have killed Courtney Castle!” he blurted out.

  “Killed?”

  “Don’t talk to these guys. They’re idiots,” Dottie ordered the women under her breath.

  Josie ignored the good advice. “Where? When? Who says?”

  “He doesn’t know anything. And he should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Mike answered, scowling at his cousin.

  Despite the seriousness of Mark’s statement, Josie found that she wanted to smile. Mike sounded just like his father. “Where is your father?” she asked. “Is he with the body?”