This Old Murder

by Valerie Wolzien

  “There is no body,” Mike answered.

  “I thought you said Courtney had been murdered.” Jill joined the conversation.

  “It’s all those rice cakes,” Dottie said. “She just wasted away. Poor thing.”

  “Mike, what the hell is going on?” Josie asked. This was turning into a very long lunch hour. Little had been accomplished this morning. They needed to make up for it this afternoon. “We have to get back to work. Has there been a murder or not?”

  “That Bobby Valentine… he’s the show’s director, right?”

  “He’s the producer,” Josie said. “What about him?”

  “He found a note in Courtney Castle’s dressing room.”

  “And it said she was killed!” Mark sounded excited.

  “What is this? Some sort of game?” Dottie asked.

  “We really don’t have time for this!” Josie insisted. “Do you think you could start at the beginning? What exactly did the note say?”

  “And did anyone think to ask Courtney who killed her?” Dottie’s question was sarcastic.

  “The note said ‘Kill Courtney Castle,’ ” Mike answered. “And Courtney Castle has disappeared.”

  “Disappeared? You mean she’s just vanished?” Annette asked.

  “How could she have disappeared?” Josie added.

  “She’s not in her trailer, which is where her producer says she should be. And she’s not anywhere on the property,” Mike answered seriously.

  “So maybe she went for a drive,” Josie suggested.

  “Her truck is still parked out front,” Mark explained.

  That diverted Josie. “Since when does she drive a truck? What happened to the silver Porsche?”

  “Apparently she drives a truck for the show-” Mike began.

  “You mean that truck is just a prop?”

  “I don’t know what you’d call it. I just know what that Valentine guy told us. She came in the truck, and if the truck is still here, she is, too.”

  “You just said she isn’t here,” Dottie reminded him.

  “Or maybe she hasn’t left of her own accord,” Jill suggested, lowering her voice and opening her eyes wide. “Maybe someone killed her and took the body away.”

  “Nope. Not a chance. We’ve had a police line around the block since early this morning. No way anyone got through with Courtney Castle-or with her body. Dad is double-checking with all the guys, but I can tell you that our line was-and is-impenetrable.”

  “And Mikey… Mike… and I have searched every square inch of this property as well as all the vans and trucks out front. She’s not here,” Mark asserted.

  “Then she’s not dead,” Josie suggested.

  “Yeah, it’s a hot day. Maybe she went for a swim,” Dottie said.

  “Or maybe she got into a boat and rowed off for a bit,” Annette said.

  “Yeah, there have been lots of kayakers around all morning. Maybe that’s what she did,” Jill added.

  Josie knew they were trying to be helpful, but she was aware of the logistics of what the women were suggesting. “You’re sure she didn’t drive away or go for a jog on the street? She loves attention. That’s just the type of thing she would do.”

  “Nope. If she left the property, she did it back here.” Mike Rodney had a grin on his face.

  “You mean she had to pass us if she left,” Dottie said slowly, folding her arms across her ample chest.

  “When did this happen?” Josie asked loudly. “How can we possibly know where Courtney might or might not have been?”

  “We…” Bobby Valentine appeared in the open doorway at the back of the house, his appearance in uncharacteristic disarray. His hair was standing on end, his shirttail half in and half out of his slacks. But he was, as usual, clutching his cell phone.

  “Let this guy tell you,” Mike continued, waving the producer over.

  “Have you found her?” Bobby Valentine asked immediately, putting his hand over the mouthpiece, his face brightening at the possibility.

  “No-”

  “Nope, not yet.” Bobby Valentine relayed the message to his unseen caller. “Gotta go. I’ll keep you informed.” He flipped off his phone. “So did they see her?” he asked the police officers.

  “Why should we have seen her?” Josie asked.

  “You see a helicopter around here?” Mike asked. “Because she either left by air or walked by you girls.”

  “Maybe she walked by and swam off during a time when no one was here,” Dottie suggested.

  Josie thought she knew what was coming.

  “You girls were working back here taking down the deck and marking out the… whatever it is that you’re all marking out, right?” Mark asked.

  “We’re not girls,” Josie stated flatly.

  “Ms. Pigeon is one of those women’s libbers,” Mike said sarcastically. “She doesn’t like the term girls. Call them women.”

  “Courtney is the same way,” Bobby Valentine said, ending that part of the conversation.

  “So tell us, women. Was there ever a time when you were all out of the backyard?”

  “This morning-” Dottie began.

  “Let’s pin it down a bit more,” Mike said. “Was there ever a time when fewer than two of you were back here after Courtney ended her opening interview with Josie?”

  The women looked at one another.

  “I don’t know about my crew, but I would have to think about that for a minute or two,” Josie said very slowly.

  “Damn right,” Dottie agreed.

  Annette looked up. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I was back here the entire time. I… I watched Courtney interview Josie and then came right back here. Dottie and Jill were almost finished marking the new foundation out. And I’ve been back here since then.”

  “The three of you have been here since then. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “I-” Jill began.

  “No, that’s not it at all. I was here all the time. Everyone else came and went and did… well, they did whatever they had to do,” Annette explained haltingly.

  “Did Courtney come back here?” Bobby Valentine asked.

  “No.” Annette answered slowly. “I don’t think so.” She glanced at the others. “I really don’t think so.”

  Josie frowned. “You would remember if she’d been here though, don’t you think?” After all, Annette seemed to be so fascinated by Courtney. Surely she would remember the last time she’d seen her.

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “And I came back to get something from my toolbox and I don’t remember seeing you,” Josie continued.

  “I saw you,” Annette said quickly. “I was working over there.” She waved to the left. “You just didn’t see me.”

  “Oh, I guess you’re right.”

  “You didn’t look around or anything. I figured you were just thinking and didn’t want to bother you,” Annette explained.

  “What about the rest of you?” Bobby Valentine asked. “Did anyone else see Courtney?”

  “No.” Jill was brief.

  “Definitely not,” Dottie said with emphasis.

  “And you’re saying no one was alone back here. And you’re sure of that?” Mike asked Annette.

  “Yes.”

  “So where did she go?” Mark asked.

  “And who wrote the note about killing her?” Mike added.

  Josie took a deep breath and glanced at her crew. Was one of these women the answer to those questions?

  NINE

  JOSIE WAS SITTING at the kitchen table in her landlady’s apartment. There was a glass of wine in her hand, an untouched bowl of pasta on the table in front of her. She had finished telling Risa of her day and now found herself, un-characteristically, not hungry.

  “You like this Courtney Castle?” Risa asked. She stopped stirring a large pot on the stove, unrolled the voluminous silk sleeves of the shirt she was wearing, and poured herself a glass of Chianti.

  “I did
n’t really know her,” Josie said, staring down at her food. It was true. That poised, perfect television personality was an unknown quantity-no matter what had happened in the past.

  “I have watched her show,” Risa said flatly. “I did not like it.”

  Josie smiled for the first time since she’d heard of Courtney’s supposed disappearing act. “Really? Everyone keeps telling me how much they love her.”

  “Her? Sì! Her, I like. Beautiful blond hair. But that show. No, I do not like that show.”

  Josie was momentarily diverted. “Why not?”

  “It’s not what it says it is.”

  “What do you mean? You don’t think you could learn a lot about remodeling from watching?”

  “I think you would learn a lie from watching.”

  “What sort of lie?” Josie reached for her wineglass.

  “I would not have known this if I had not known you,” Risa answered obliquely, sipping from her glass.

  Josie followed suit; she was beginning to relax. “What do I have to do with it?”

  “I see you after you work. When you come home, you are tired, you are filthy, some days you are disgusting and you actually smell.”

  “I work hard!” Josie protested.

  “But she… that Castle person. She doesn’t. She’s like a… a tourist on the work site.”

  Josie took another sip of her wine and didn’t speak for a few minutes. “A tourist on the work site,” she repeated quietly. It was an interesting image. “Yeah, that makes sense. The makeup. The hairdo. Those long fingernails.”

  “No, not the nails. They are acrid… or something like plastic. They are very hard. They break after everything else.”

  Was this true? Josie looked down at her split and cracked nails. Could she go to one of those manicure salons that seemed to have popped up all over the place in the last few years and come out with beautiful hands? And would they last throughout her workday?

  “They are also ugly.” Risa, never one to keep an opinion to herself, continued. “And unnatural. Plastic attached to the end of the digits… the fingers… No, not good.”

  “You’re saying that you don’t like the show because you know what hard work it is to remodel a house.”

  “Sì.” Risa nodded. “She makes it look easy. It’s not easy. People do not know this. They start work. They make mess. They unhappy. That’s not good. Not fair.”

  “No, you’re right.” Josie took another sip of wine. “And that’s the right word. It’s not fair to the people in the audience.” She frowned. “What about Courtney Castle?”

  “I like her better on her other show. She made polenta almost like she was Italian…”

  Josie put down her glass. “What other show?”

  “I do not remember the name… Not Viva Italia. It was not just Italian food. Also French and, I think, maybe Spanish… Mediterranean Cooking. No, Mediterranean Cuisine. They show not just recipes but also travel to places where food is made. Fascinating. The show on the fishing for scungilli. Fascinating,” she repeated.

  “You’re telling me that Courtney was the hostess-or host or whatever they call it-of a cooking show on public television?”

  “Sì. It was not recent though. A while ago. She was younger. Hair not so blond.”

  “She’s really a brunette,” Josie muttered bitchily, and then sighed. What Risa was saying was interesting. Josie picked up her fork and speared a piece of pasta. She asked another question before putting it in her mouth. “Do you remember when it was on? How long ago?”

  “Oh, years. You eat. I think.” She pushed a bowl of freshly ground Parmesan cheese across the table. “It was the year little Tyler played on that bad team for Little League. I learned to make those little orange rolls that he loved to eat when they lost from Courtney on TV.”

  Josie was accustomed to understanding her landlady’s convoluted syntax and didn’t question her statement. “That was the spring before he started boarding school. Three years ago.”

  “Sì. Who is that at the door?” Risa asked, standing.

  “Risa! Josie! Tyler!”

  Josie, a smile on her face, got up for one of the few things as interesting to her as food or her son. “It’s Sam!”

  Risa, ever the good hostess, headed to her stove. “I get him some dinner. He must be hungry.”

  “We’re back here, Sam!”

  “Josie, I heard about what happened today. I can’t believe it!” he said, not bothering to greet her properly.

  “I know, Sam, I-”

  “You sit right down and eat this pasta,” Risa interrupted. “You think better on a full stomach.”

  Momentarily startled, Sam stood still. “What in particular should I be thinking about?” he asked.

  “About how to make sure Josie and Island Contracting are on TV. To make sure they still get good covers.”

  “She means coverage, Sam. And I’m not so sure I want to be on Courtney’s show if she is going to pull stunts like this.”

  “Stunts? You think this is a stunt?”

  “Yes. No one has talked about the handwriting of that note. I’ll bet she wrote it herself.”

  “Why would anyone pretend to be murdered?” Sam asked.

  Josie had thought about it for a while and come up with what she thought was a logical answer. “For publicity. Everyone knows how television people are always after publicity.”

  “Sì. She just hiding.” Risa nodded vigorously.

  “That’s not what the police think. They seem to be taking this very, very seriously.”

  “Really?”

  “I was told they were talking of bringing dredging equipment to the island.”

  “What? Dredge the ocean? They are mad!” Risa exclaimed.

  “No, the bay,” Josie said. “That’s what they’re talking about doing, isn’t it, Sam? They’re planning to dredge the bay.”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.” Owning the largest and most exclusive of the two liquor stores on the island, Sam was in a position to hear most of the gossip going around.

  “Is there any evidence at all that she was killed?” Josie asked slowly. “More than the note, I mean.”

  “Well, what I heard was that she hadn’t been seen since doing the interview with you.”

  “Really? Cara, what are they saying about you?”

  “Were you two alone together for the interview?” Sam asked.

  “Alone? Are you kidding? I’ve only been exposed to this stuff for a few days, but, believe me, it takes more than one person to do anything for television. It almost takes a crowd!”

  “Was the interview done in the house? Or on some sort of set?”

  “It was done in a corner of the deck in front of the house. They wanted to see me, the house, and the bay in the background. That, apparently, was the best place to see all three.”

  “And how big was the crowd it took to do this?” Sam asked. There was a smile on his face, but whether it was from Josie’s answer or Risa’s pasta, she didn’t know.

  “Well, there were only the cameraman, the producer, Bobby Valentine, Courtney, and me. But there were lots of people milling around. And it wasn’t the first time I’d been interviewed. Bobby Valentine had asked me a bunch of questions earlier in the day. He told me that Courtney would use the information he got to figure out what to ask me.”

  “Perhaps this Bobby Valentine made up the questions and gave them to Courtney. It’s not unheard of for on-air personalities to work from scripts provided by other people.”

  “No. She made up these questions herself.” Josie stopped and glanced at Risa. “I’m sure they were her work.”

  “How do you know?” Sam asked.

  “I just know,” she answered.

  “Woman’s intuition,” Risa suggested.

  “Oh?” Sam looked at Josie for confirmation.

  “I guess.” She shrugged and changed the subject. “When is the dredging supposed to begin?”

  “As soon as
possible, is what I heard. Of course, knowing the police on this island, that could mean anytime in the next decade. There were two guys talking about it in the store when I left. I got the impression that they were summer cops.”

  “I don’t suppose one of them was named Mark.”

  “I don’t know either of their names. But they were buying soda and complaining about having to work late and, more significantly, go without beer for the evening while they figured out how to get the dredge into the bay without calling the Coast Guard for help. Although I don’t understand why they wouldn’t want to call the Coast Guard in. I don’t understand the delineation of duties here, but it seems to me that a missing person, presumed to be in the water, is exactly the type of thing the Coast Guard does get involved in.”

  “On any other island, yes. But the local police and the Coast Guard have a history of… um, of not getting along.”

  “Isn’t that a bit foolish?” Sam asked.

  “Sure is, but you’ve been around long enough to not be surprised by it.”

  “What happened?”

  “You didn’t hear about it? It’s a great story.”

  “So tell it.”

  “It happened one Fourth of July. You know what a big deal we all make of that day. It’s pretty much the height of the summer season. All the tourists are here. When I moved here, there were fireworks shot off the old drawbridge at the south end of the island. Then someone suggested that an even bigger and better display could be created from the new causeway up north. But the smaller display at the other end of the island was a tradition and, well, you know how things go around here. We ended up with what we have now.”

  Sam nodded. “Fireworks at both ends of the island.”

  “Exactly. And you know how people head out to sea in their boats so that they can see both displays at the same time?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, a year or two before you arrived, one of the party boats that had been hired for the evening lost its engine and couldn’t get back in after the shows ended. Unfortunately, the people in the boat were so drunk, they didn’t notice they had a problem until they had drifted almost twenty miles out to sea. And then there was a storm that night and the boat drifted back toward land and ended up stuck on a sandbar about a mile off the coast. Well, to make a long story short, the Coast Guard rescue the next morning was very dramatic and could be seen by everyone sunning on the beach.”