Death at a Premium

by Valerie Wolzien

  Tyler was absolutely no help at all. His enthusiastic participation in any conversation about the wedding would have led anyone listening to suspect he was trying to avoid another subject—and that’s exactly what Josie did think. Then her son took off, claiming to have a date immediately after dinner. He had arrived back home after Josie was asleep, and he was still in bed when she left that morning.

  A completely unsatisfactory evening, and now another stupid manikin.

  She was trying not to ask herself what else could go wrong when Christopher Higgins walked around the corner of the house. Josie frowned. His appearance would waste her time if nothing else. He met her frown with a smile. “I come bearing gifts: bagels, lox, and cream cheese,” Christopher announced. He held up a large brown bag.

  “Cool,” Leslie said, pulling the dummy up the last few steps and dragging it toward the Dumpster that now stood in the middle of the backyard.

  “What the hell is that?” Christopher asked.

  “What does it look like?” Josie asked.

  “To tell you the truth, it looks like a bride,” he answered seriously.

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah. Long blond hair, long white dress . . . I mean, it sort of looks like someone was making a dummy of a bride.”

  “You know, he’s right,” Mary Ann said, walking closer to examine the wig and clothing hanging off the dummy. “It does look sort of like a bride—or someone going to a prom or something.”

  “The one yesterday didn’t, though,” Vicki pointed out.

  “Yesterday?” Christopher asked.

  Josie didn’t think he had to know anything about that. “We found a bunch of stuff behind one of the walls we knocked down yesterday. It’s not that unusual. Workers—not my workers, but some workers—dump debris and garbage behind walls before they’re closed in. It’s easier than making an extra trip to the Dumpster. But you don’t have to worry. No one from Island Contracting would do anything like that.”

  “I hope not. Food wrappers and that sort of garbage might attract rodents, and we certainly don’t want that.”

  “Of course not,” Josie agreed and then asked him a question. “Why are you here?”

  “You mean you don’t think I’m just playing delivery boy?” he teased.

  She didn’t have time to fool around, and neither did her crew. “No. Why?” she repeated.

  “I wanted to check out a few changes with you . . .”

  This was one of the phrases Josie least wanted to hear.

  “. . . before Luigi arrives to check out the house.”

  “I’m sorry. I must have missed something. Who is Luigi? One of your relatives?” Josie asked.

  “Luigi is my grandmother’s decorator. He decorated my grandparent’s New York townhouse—more than once, in fact. He also has a client here, a woman who owns one of those big houses up in the dunes. A Mrs. Fairchild. Maybe you know her?”

  “No.” Josie neglected to add that she usually didn’t socialize with the island’s elite.

  “Grandmother and Mrs. Fairchild are old friends, and when my grandfather heard that Luigi was going to be down here, he asked him to look in on our project. I think they’re checking up on me,” he added. The smile had vanished from his face.

  Josie realized Christopher wasn’t any happier with this surprise visit than she was. “How long do you think Luigi will be on the island?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe just a few days. He has lots of clients in the city—I would assume he has to get back to them sometime soon.”

  Josie thought it was time to put Christopher out of his misery. “This might just work out for us. I have lots of decisions for your grandmother to make. None of the bathroom fixtures or the tiles for the kitchen backsplash have been selected. Maybe Luigi can look around and then help your grandmother pick out what is appropriate. He’ll have a lot to keep himself occupied.”

  “What about those bagels and lox? I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m starving,” Leslie reminded them all, changing the subject.

  Christopher passed around the food, but Josie, though hungry, was not easily distracted. “Do you know if there’s anything in particular Luigi has come to see?”

  “No. Well, I don’t know.” Christopher picked up a bagel half and smeared it with cream cheese. “To tell you the truth, Luigi works more closely with Grandmother than Grandfather, and I don’t think Grandmother was all that enthusiastic about Grandfather allowing me to remodel this house.”

  “Really?” Josie resisted smiling. It sounded as though she and Mrs. Higgins had something in common.

  “Yeah. I heard her talking to him when they didn’t know I was in the room next door, and she said it made no sense.” He stopped eating for a moment. “I shouldn’t be surprised. Everyone in my class is jealous—no one else will have a senior thesis project like mine. No one else has relatives who will let them do something like this to a house they just bought.”

  “Perhaps your classmates’ families aren’t . . . well, don’t have the resources your family does,” Josie suggested.

  The young man brightened up considerably. “You know, you’re probably right. It might not have anything at all to do with my professional qualifications.” Or lack thereof, Josie thought. “And it might just be that no one else bought a house this year.”

  She decided it was time to return to the task at hand. “It would be a big help if you could convince your grandmother to pick out appliances and bath fixtures sometime soon. Not that we need to get them in immediately, but if we can place the orders we’ll be sure they’re here when we need them. Otherwise the end of the project might be delayed, and I know you’re interested in finishing on time—right?”

  “Yeah, even early would be nice,” Christopher enthused. “Then I could take a short break. Maybe spend a few weeks in the Hamptons before school starts.”

  Josie didn’t comment. She wasn’t sure which would be worse: having him around and wasting her time for the entire project, or having to push the completion date so he could “spend a few weeks” relaxing before his classes began. “Look, I appreciate being given advance notice of Luigi’s arrival and we’re all going to enjoy the food you brought, but you did mention some changes you wanted to discuss,” she reminded him.

  “Oh yeah, well, I was talking to my grandfather last night and I began to worry about storage.”

  “Closets?”

  “Yeah, closets and less conventional storage spaces. This place doesn’t have a basement, you know, and so all the stuff that families usually keep in the basement must be kept somewhere.”

  “One of the garage bays was being used.”

  “Yeah, but my grandfather specifically mentioned a place to store his fishing gear . . .”

  “The garage would be perfect.”

  “. . . in the house,” he finished his thought.

  Josie frowned. This was one of those ideas that could diminish Island Contracting’s profit margin, unless she was careful. “We could increase the size of that small porch behind the kitchen.”

  “And enclose it, right?” Christopher seemed enthusiastic about that idea. “Then Grandfather could bring his stuff right in from a day at the beach and leave it there. It would keep the house much cleaner, which Grandmother would love.”

  “But it would increase the cost of the project, possibly by as much as fifteen thousand dollars,” she finished.

  The enthusiasm vanished. “Oh. That might be a problem. You see, Grandfather thinks I . . . I don’t want Grandfather to think . . .”

  “You forgot he wanted it and now you want it in the plans without him realizing that,” Josie guessed.

  “Sort of. Do you think we could add the porch and maybe decrease costs someplace else? You know, find some extra money in the project?”

  Josie was tempted to tell him that if he ever hired a contracting company that put fifteen thousand dollars’ worth of slush in a project, he had hired the wrong company. But Christopher
was young. He would learn, and it wasn’t her job to teach him. “I think we’ll have to talk to your grandfather about increasing the final cost of the project before we touch that porch.”

  “Well, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention this to my grandfather. I can handle it, but I’d rather do it in my own way. Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Christopher, what are you up to?” came a voice from behind them. “Why, I remember you when you were just a baby and now look at you—designing houses for your grandparents!”

  Tight designer jeans, a deep reddish-purple silk shirt, Gucci loafers worn without socks, and hair dyed a brown so dark it was almost magenta. Luigi had arrived.

  NINE

  THE HIGGINSES WEREN’T willing to accept second-best, and Luigi was here to see that they didn’t get it. He made that point more than once in the hours he spent examining the Bride’s Secret Bed and Breakfast. He didn’t like anything. Nothing was as Seymour Higgins had described it to him, and Luigi wasn’t the least bit reticent when it came to expressing his disappointment.

  “This place is horrible. I know that this sort of mid-century crap is popular in some circles, but so inappropriate for a woman of your grandmother’s class and sensibilities. I was expecting something very different— very, very different. Something with an air of romance. At the very least some ambience. You do know how this place got its name, don’t you?”

  “I don’t think so,” Christopher answered. Josie thought he looked as though he couldn’t care less.

  “There was a murder here—a murder for love.” His emerald-green eyes (contacts, Josie guessed) opened wide, and Luigi told the tale. “This place was built as a wedding present from a man to his future wife. It may not look like much now, but supposedly at that time it was incredible. There weren’t many big houses on this island in those days, and this one was the biggest and grandest of them all. People came by train from Philadelphia and New York City just to see it.”

  “So that’s why Grandfather bought this house—to tell my grandmother that he loves her as much as the man who built this place loved his wife.”

  Luigi made a skeptical sound. “He’d better hope she loves him more than that bride did. This place is called the bride’s secret, not the wife’s secret.”

  “I don’t get it,” Christopher said.

  “The story is that they never got married. She vanished the night before the wedding. No one on the island ever saw her again.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. Your grandfather said there were rumors, of course.”

  “What sort of rumors?”

  “Apparently the architect also vanished. Some people said that he fell in love with the woman while building the house, and they ran off to California the night before the wedding. But apparently there were a lot of people who thought that while the affair might have happened, the trip to California was, alas, wishful thinking. Your grandfather believes that the man who built the house found out about the affair, killed his fiancée, hid her somewhere on the property, and then moved into the house to be near her body. So romantic, don’t you think?”

  “Not really,” Josie answered, but Luigi wasn’t interested in her answer.

  “Mr. Seymour Higgins and I think the story is very, very romantic. Mr. Higgins said that when he worked here while in college, there were brochures on the hallway table in case guests were interested in the building’s history. Although naturally those brochures didn’t mention the ghosts.”

  “What ghosts?” Josie asked.

  “As I understand the story, some people claim that the bride’s body was concealed in the walls. And that her ghost—and the ghost of her murderer—roam the hallways during storms.” He shrugged his silk-clad shoulders. “I never believe that crap, but I cannot believe this is the same Bride’s Secret Bed and Breakfast that your grandmother and grandfather described to me.”

  He wasn’t talking about the demolition. Apparently Christopher’s grandparents had waxed lyrical about the Bride’s Secret, omitting the extensive changes made in the last forty years. Josie, who had followed Luigi downstairs and had noticed the tell-tale tiny scars behind his ears, was tempted to suggest that the house had not benefited from as much nipping and tucking as some people had. But she said nothing, merely taking notes when Luigi actually said something that she could use.

  To give Christopher credit, he had made all the right suggestions, even offering a pile of catalogues from which to choose toilets, tiles, refrigerators. Everything was rejected.

  Luigi was here to look around, to get a feel for the place. But except for a few impractical suggestions concerning additional closet space, anything that might move the project along was ignored. And he wasn’t interested in what they had accomplished. Josie pointed out the work they had done, the demolition, even the places where the dummies had been found. Luigi listened and then changed the subject back to himself and his work. “I simply cannot make decisions in any foreign environment. I need my own space. My office, my city.”

  “And isn’t this incredibly hideous?” They were in the kitchen, and Josie could only agree that there was nothing at all appealing or even practical about the small space. But she couldn’t just demolish the room and then leave it empty. Someone had to make some decisions. She was about to explain this when Mary Ann stuck her head around the corner and waved. “Josie, when you have a minute . . .” She vanished.

  “I think someone on my crew needs me.”

  “I believe I need you now,” Luigi answered. “I want to get everything in my mind before I see dear Seymour and Tilly.”

  The Higgins were paying the bills, so Josie had no choice but to listen. “Of course. I’ll just close this door. I can’t imagine why it’s open. She reached out for the knob and realized that Vicki was standing on the top step.

  “We need you!” Vicki whispered urgently.

  “I’m busy in here,” Josie answered loudly. “You know Luigi needs my help right now. I’ll come on out when I’m free.”

  “But . . .”

  “Later.” Josie slammed the door in her worker’s face.

  Christopher finally spoke up. “You know, Luigi, there are some beautiful homes on the island. There are some wonderful local workers.”

  “Isn’t she local?” Luigi stared at Josie’s jeans, work boots, and unmanicured nails as though he couldn’t imagine any other possibility.

  “Yes, Josie is a contractor—a carpenter,” Christopher said.

  Luigi peered at Josie. “I’m sorry. I don’t believe I remember your name.”

  “It’s Pigeon. Josie Pigeon.”

  “What an odd name, I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone named Pigeon before.”

  “Josie owns the best contracting company on the island,” Christopher said, making Josie feel a bit better.

  “I know who she is. I just didn’t remember her name there for a moment. It was a very long drive here from the city. The traffic was horrible. I really should have a nice lunch—perhaps a small crab salad and a nice glass of Vouvray—and lie down for a bit. I hate to admit it, but I’m not as young as I used to be, you know.”

  “Why don’t you both go to lunch at Basil’s new place?” Josie suggested quickly.

  The idea didn’t seem to appeal to Luigi. “Is it here on the island? I have a very sensitive stomach and I can eat only very fresh food, prepared in the best continental manner.”

  “The restaurant has been reviewed favorably in The New York Times,” Josie said. “It’s considered one of the best restaurants in town.”

  “Really? The New York Times?” Luigi said slowly. “Perhaps I have heard about it.”

  “Basil Tilby owns it. In fact, he owns several restaurants on the island. You may know of him. He’s been interviewed on the Food Network more than once, and there was an article written about his fish dishes in Gourmet magazine last June,” Josie added.

  “I think we might just try it for lunch.”


  Josie realized she wasn’t included in this invitation. Not that she cared. “Take your time. I’ll be here when you get back,” she said to Christopher, hoping he would drop Luigi in the ocean on the way.

  “I have many people to see this afternoon. If I don’t come back, you will understand,” Luigi said starting for the door.

  “If he doesn’t come back, I know you’ll be thrilled,” Christopher whispered to Josie. He grinned, then followed the decorator from the room.

  No sooner was he gone than Mary Ann and Vicki appeared.

  “Are they gone for a while?” Vicki asked.

  “Are they going to be back soon?” Mary Ann asked.

  “They went to lunch. I hope we never see Luigi again. I can’t imagine what the Higginses were thinking when they suggested he come down here and waste our time. But that’s not our problem. We need to get back to work. Where’s Leslie?” Josie asked.

  “He’s with the body. We didn’t want to leave it alone,” Mary Ann explained.

  “That stupid thing!” Josie exploded. “Put it in the Dumpster and let’s get on with this job.”

  “You don’t understand,” Vicki said.

  “No, we found another body. A real one,” Mary Ann explained.

  “Damn. I guess we’re going to have to call the police,” Josie said.

  TEN

  JOSIE WAS EXPECTING Mike Rodney or his father to respond to her call, and she didn’t know whether to be pleased or concerned when Trish Petric stepped out of the police cruiser. Josie knew the Rodneys would cause problems, but she found herself longing for the devil she knew.

  “We got some sort of stupid prank call about another body,” Trish said immediately.

  “I called . . .” Josie began.

  “It’s illegal to waste police time,” Trish interrupted.

  “I don’t think you’re going to find this a waste of your time. There’s a dead woman on the floor in the master bedroom suite,” Josie explained.