“There are laws in some states—I know New York has one—that require the person selling a house to inform potential buyers of stories or rumors that the home is haunted,” Sam explained. “For a Realtor to hide them could quite possibly negate a sale.”
“Superstitions and superstitious people,” Josie scoffed. “Most buyers know that there’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“I wouldn’t argue with you about that, but whether or not there are ghosts is not the point. Owners might be inconvenienced by the stories themselves. Workers could refuse to work in a home said to be haunted, for instance, and it’s only fair that potential buyers be informed of that possibility.”
“I’ve heard tales of the bride’s ghost since I was a teenager, and those stories certainly didn’t keep my husband from purchasing this place,” Tilly said, but to Josie’s ears, she sounded a bit uncertain.
“I’ve heard those stories too, but I don’t believe in ghosts and can’t imagine turning down a . . .” Josie floundered, hoping to find exactly the right words. “. . . An excellent job and the chance to create a fine home like the one your grandson has designed just because someone made up a bunch of stupid stories.”
“Dear Christopher did joke around about an exorcism,” his grandmother admitted. She was frowning.
“I don’t think there’s any need for that,” Sam said. “After all, hundreds, possibly thousands of people have stayed in this house over the years, and no one has seen or heard a ghost.”
“Exactly!” Josie beamed at him.
“Then why do we all know the story of the ghost?” Carol asked.
“Whoever owned this place thought the story added to its value.” Sam chuckled. “I guess you never picked up one of the brochures touting the bed-and-breakfast. The poor bride’s disappearance was prominently displayed on every single piece of promotional material. And there was a large painting of her framed on the wall in the hallway.” He looked around. “What happened to that? Did anyone save it?”
“We didn’t throw out anything. It’s probably either in the garage or up in the attic. There are still things to be sorted through up there,” Josie suggested.
“It would be interesting to see it again,” Sam said, and then, turning to Tilly, he changed the subject. “I made reservations for one P.M., not that the restaurant will be crowded at lunchtime, but perhaps we should be going.”
Josie’s mouth fell open, but not a sound came out. Sam was Tilly Higgins’s lunch date? What was going on here? “Where are you two going?” she asked, hoping her question sounded merely casual.
“We’re having lunch at the Seagull. Basil’s meeting us so we shouldn’t be late.”
“Why are you lunching on the island?” Josie asked. “I mean, I didn’t know you two knew each other.” She stopped. She couldn’t afford to offend this woman, but she didn’t understand what was going on.
“Mother thought that Mrs. Higgins . . .”
“You know I asked you to call me Tilly,” Tilly said.
Sam smiled at her before continuing. “Mother thought that Tilly and I might go into business together,” he said, smiling at Josie.
There were so many surprises in that sentence that Josie wasn’t sure what to ask first. “What sort of business? You’re not selling the store, are you?”
“Of course not, I’m just thinking of expanding next year, offering classes in wine and what food goes with what wine. You know the sort of thing.”
Actually, Josie didn’t. Before she had met Sam, most of the wine she drank came from a box. Most of the food that went with it was pepperoni pizza—with extra garlic. These days Sam either brought something from his store or ordered from the wine list when they ate in restaurants. But she had more questions. “Do you think that sort of thing will be popular here? I mean, do people go on vacation and then take classes?”
Mrs. Higgins leaped in here. “Oh heavens, yes. Why, we know people who take cruises that are really quite intellectual—classes in the morning, island tours in the afternoon. That sort of thing has become very, very popular in the travel industry.”
“But here on the island? Sam, you know most people who vacation here just want to lie on the beach, swim in the ocean, fish . . .”
“Perhaps that’s because no one has offered anything else,” he answered.
Josie frowned. “Yeah, I guess that’s possible.” She looked over at Mrs. Higgins. “So you’re interested in wine, too?”
“Not actually. I’m more concerned with the food. Not that I actually cook anything, but I know a lot about food and wine,” she ended.
“So I think she’ll be impressed with Basil’s place, don’t you?” Sam asked Josie.
Josie could tell that he was anxious to leave. “Of course, it all sounds so interesting,” she added, making an effort to smile.
“See you tonight,” Sam said, kissing the top of Josie’s head. “Shall we be off?” he asked Mrs. Higgins.
It seemed to Josie that Tilly was having no trouble smiling up at Sam. Taking the arm he offered, she accompanied him to the door.
They were gone before Josie had time to ask another question.
“I don’t think you have to worry about the two of them, dear. She really is old enough to be his mother,” Carol pointed out.
“I . . . that’s not it, actually.” Josie decided to change the subject. “Do you know if Mrs. Higgins made a list of the fixtures she wants us to install?”
Carol frowned. “She was online going through Website after Website, but I don’t know that she actually made any decisions.”
“Funny, that’s what she said she was going to do.” Josie glanced over at her workers. Lunch finished, they were lounging around, chatting, and of course, listening to her conversation. “I have to get back to work, but why don’t we go upstairs and look at the room where the body was found again? I could use your opinion about something.”
Carol took the hint. “Not to sound ghoulish, but I’d love to see it again.”
“We’ll get the mirrors off the wall in the butler’s pantry,” Nic said, standing up and stretching.
“Great. This shouldn’t take long. Once we’re done there I think we should get to those bathrooms at the back of the house,” Josie answered, following Carol up the dusty stairway.
“You thought we needed to be alone for a moment,” Carol whispered loudly as she arrived on the second floor landing.
“Yes. Did Tilly do anything other than look at fixtures?”
“Not while I was there, but when I arrived at your office, she wasn’t at the computer; she was standing in the back of the room.”
“Where the file cabinets are?”
“Exactly!”
“There were some manufacturer’s catalogues on top of them.”
“But she was looking in a drawer. She closed it as soon as she heard me come in, but I would swear she was going through your files.”
“Do you know which drawer?” Josie asked.
“The top one. I’m sure of that. And she didn’t want me to know that she was going through it. She slid it shut when she heard me and made some sort of comment about finding it open.”
Josie pursed her lips and thought about what Carol was saying. “Did you say anything?”
“Well, I couldn’t tell her that I was really there because you wanted me to keep an eye on her, could I? I just introduced myself and asked if she knew where you kept information on sinks and whirlpools. She passed over a few catalogues from the top of the file cabinet. I asked if she had finished with them, and she said that she had, and was going to go check out the Kohler Website. She sat down at your desk and I assume she was doing just that.”
“What do you mean? Don’t you know what she was doing?”
“Not all the time. The only chair other than your desk chair was on the other side of your desk. I sat down in it because anything else would have seemed odd, but then I realized that there was no way I could tell what she was looking at.”
“Yo
u’re saying you’re not sure what Websites she was looking at.”
“Yes, so I don’t know if she was doing what she had told you she was there to do or not.”
“But that’s not a problem. I can look at the recent history on my browser and see what Websites were visited today,” Josie told her.
“Really? How smart of you to set it up to do that!” Carol beamed at her.
Josie knew this woman would think any woman her son had chosen to marry was the smartest woman in the world, and she hated to disabuse her of this particular falsehood, but she had to explain. “I didn’t do anything. It came like that. I think all browsers come like that,” she said. “Did you talk to her at all?” Josie asked, knowing the answer. Carol talked to everyone she met, always, period.
“Yes—you know how it is. We chatted about this and that as we looked. She is so excited about this house. Did you know that her husband was buying it for her? I got the impression that he was less enthusiastic about the entire project. You know the young man designing this job is her grandson, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“And he went to the same prep school as the grandson of one of my best friends!”
If this fact surprised Carol, it didn’t strike Josie the same way. Carol’s neighborhood in New York City had always seemed like a small village to her. Everyone appeared to know everyone else at least by reputation if not in actuality. They went to the same schools, shopped in the same stores, ate at the same restaurants, and vacationed at the same resorts. “Christopher seems to be a very nice young man. And so far I haven’t discovered any major problems with his plans. Of course, the original structure is sound, so most of his changes are cosmetic.”
“Tilly says he’s a darling boy, and she’s thrilled to be moving into a house he’s working on. You know, dear, with the Higginses’ connections, this project could end up getting some excellent publicity. You might end up in The New York Times—or even Architectural Digest!”
“I suppose that would be nice,” Josie said unenthusiastically.
“Of course, it is a little late in your career, isn’t it? I mean, think what that sort of publicity would have meant to you back when you were struggling to keep Island Contracting in business. Now, of course, things are different—and they’re going to be even more different, aren’t they?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I know how important your work is to you, but it won’t be so necessary after you and Sammy tie the knot, will it?”
“You mean I won’t have to worry about supporting myself and Tyler.”
“You won’t have to struggle—that’s what I’m trying to say. I know how hard you’ve worked for so many years without anyone’s support. Now you’ll have a bigger family, and . . .”
“And Sam’s money,” Josie said.
“Well, I don’t mean to sound crass.”
Josie, who had been about to get angry, suddenly realized it was an inappropriate response. Carol thought she was being helpful. “I’ve had to work hard and there were times when I didn’t know how I was going to pay my bills, or give Tyler what he wanted and needed, but I did have support. Risa has let us live in her home and provided us with thousands of meals without making the profit she deserved. A lot of the Realtors on the island have directed their clients to Island Contracting. When things were tough, the hardware store carried Island Contracting on their books without charging any interest. And, of course, my life—and Tyler’s—would be completely different if Noel hadn’t left me his business and left Tyler the money to go away to boarding school. It’s been difficult, but there are a whole lot of people on this island that I owe a lot to.”
“Of course, that’s one of the reasons your wedding will be so important,” Carol said.
“I don’t understand. Why would Sam’s and my wedding matter to anyone but us, you, Tyler, and a few others?” Josie asked.
“Because, as you’ve been saying, they all care about you. They’ve been a big part of your life for years and years. They’ll want to celebrate your happiness with you. And I know you’ll want to share it with them, too.” Carol beamed as though she had just stated the obvious.
And it was obvious, Josie realized. So much for her eloping fantasy.
SEVENTEEN
JOSIE HAD LITTLE time to think about obligations to her friends and colleagues after Carol left. The mirrors on the butler’s pantry walls had been difficult and dangerous to remove, and everyone on her crew had spent over an hour dealing with mounds of shattered glass tiles before starting to pull down the false ceiling that had diminished the height of the room. Both jobs were difficult and dirty, and as they worked, Josie began to learn just how irritating her own amateur sleuthing could be to friends and colleagues. After two hours of listening to speculation, inept deductions evolving from incomplete or inaccurate data, and various complex and unlikely theories, Josie claimed to have urgent business back at the office and she left, promising to return within the hour.
She had been busy speculating herself—wondering what a search in her browser’s history file would turn up. She flipped on her computer, and in a moment had her answer. Tilly Higgins had apparently been searching for the perfect bathroom fixtures. Period. She turned off the machine and was bending down to pet one of the kittens when she noticed the flashing light on her answering machine. She put the kitten in her lap and pressed the button to replay her message.
Bad news she didn’t need, but bad news it was. Her insurance company was threatening to cancel her coverage. Or perhaps the snotty voice was explaining that her coverage had already been canceled. Panicked, Josie grabbed her address book with her right hand and the phone with her left. She found her insurance company’s phone number, dialed, and ended up listening to a menu that covered all possibilities. She pressed buttons that indicated her interest in speaking English, in talking about health coverage rather than term life insurance, workman’s comprehensive insurance, or long-term care insurance. She waited impatiently after each choice before being offered yet another option. By the time she finally found herself talking to a person, she was frantic and wondering why she had ever stopped smoking.
“May I help you?”
“Yes, I . . .”
“If you will just enter your policy number.”
“How?”
“Press the numbers on your phone.”
Josie did just that.
“Am I speaking with Arnold Johnson of Johnson Electronics?”
“No. I’m . . .”
“Perhaps you made a mistake. Why don’t you enter your policy number again?”
Sighing, Josie did just that.
“Thank you. Am I speaking to Rose Chen of Rose’s Nail Salon and Waxing Spa?”
“No. I . . .”
“If you will be more careful perhaps we could try this just one more time.”
“Perhaps I could just tell you my policy number,” Josie suggested and, before the woman on the other end of the line could protest, she did just that.
“Excuse me while I enter that information.”
The line went silent, and for a long moment, Josie was afraid that her suggestion had upset the system so much that she would have to begin again. But the voice returned and Josie finally had an opportunity to ask what their call to her had meant.
“I’m sorry. You pressed the wrong button—you aren’t calling about your company’s health insurance policy, you’re calling in response to our call to you . . .”
“Yes, but your call to me was about my company’s health insurance policy,” Josie interrupted to point out.
“I understand, ma’am, but that information isn’t on my computer. You need to speak to someone in another department.”
Josie cursed under her breath.
“Excuse me. I didn’t quite hear that, ma’am.”
“I was asking if you could transfer my call to someone in that department,” Josie lied.
“I would be happy to do that
, ma’am. And, if I may suggest that the next time you call us, you listen a bit more carefully to the initial menu offerings.”
This time Josie didn’t bother to hide her irritation. Before she could finish the one-word curse, she was passed along to the other department.
“Excuse me?”
Josie felt she had no choice but to lie again. “I’m sorry. I spilled some coffee on . . . on my foot. Hot coffee.”
“I’m afraid I can’t help you with your medical problems, ma’am.”
“Don’t hang up! Please! I need to talk to you . . . to talk to someone about a message you . . . your company . . . my insurance company . . . left on my answering machine.”
“Your name? The name of your company? The number of the insurance policy you wish to discuss?”
Josie answered these questions.
“And you received calls from this office concerning your insurance when?”
“This morning.”
“Which call are you responding to?”
“Which call?” Josie glanced at the answering machine. The number five flashed in the little square. The first call had worried her so much that she hadn’t even thought of listening to the other five. “The person who called said my company’s health insurance policy was in danger of being canceled,” she answered, wondering if somewhere in the following calls was one explaining that the first—ha, ha—had been a mistake.
“According to my records, three messages were left on Island Contracting’s answering machine this morning.”
“I’m afraid I only listened to one of them. The first. The one informing me that my company’s health insurance was being canceled. The one that didn’t tell me any more than that my company’s health insurance was being canceled. The one that did not explain the reason for this particular action. The . . .”
“If you will allow me to explain, Ms. Pigeon.”
“Yes, yes, of course. I just . . .”
“We have handled all of Island Contracting’s insurance needs for, let me see, I believe for more than three decades. The original owner was a Mr. Noel Roberts. Am I correct?”
“I guess. Yes.”
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