This Old Murder (12 page)

“Then she has a problem,” Dottie announced. “Courtney Castle is dead.”

FIFTEEN

"WHO? WHERE? HOW? Josie realized she was asking the same questions Naomi Van Ripper had asked just a few minutes ago.

“She’s—”

“Shh! They’re coming in. Don’t say anything!” Dottie hissed the order.

“Chief Rodney—” Josie began as he and Dr. Van Ripper appeared in the open doorway. She didn’t get a chance to finish. Jill Pike jumped down off the ladder—and onto Josie’s right foot. “Ouch!”

“She’s hidden. Don’t say anything!” Jill whispered in Josie’s ear, pretending to be checking on any damage she had done. “Sorry,” she said more loudly. “Guess it’s lucky you were wearing work boots.”

“I just wish you hadn’t been, too,” Josie said, looking around. Where had they put the body? she wondered. There was a pile of furniture covered with a large blue tarp against the wall opposite the door. She realized she was staring at it. “No harm done. And we have to get started working.”

“We’re just passing through. College kid out front said that Bobby Valentine is on the dock. Thought he might know when Courtney Castle is going to be back,” Mike Rodney said.

“She invited me for lunch. She will be here. Courtney is very well brought up. When she accepts a social commitment, she lives up to it. And SHE always returned her books on time. That says a lot about a person in my experience.” Naomi Van Ripper glanced at Josie to see if her barb had met its mark.

Josie didn’t respond. She had more important things to worry about. Forced to be content with a parting harrumph, Dr. Van Ripper followed Chief Rodney from the house. The back door swung closed behind them, but it was a minute or two before anyone moved or spoke. Then Josie dashed across the room and ripped the blue tarp from the pile. Sawdust and dirt flew in all directions.

“What the hell?” Jill was stunned.

“Why did you do that? Do you think we should cover her?” Annette asked the question.

But Dottie understood why Josie had done what she had done. “She’s not there. Up there,” Dottie explained briefly, and pointed at the ceiling.

For one wild moment Josie considered the possibility that someone as bitchy as Courtney Castle had made it into heaven. Then she looked up and realized what Dottie was saying. “She’s in the canoe?”

“Yup.”

“She is!” Annette added, her eyes wide with shock. “We all saw her.”

“I found her,” Jill said. “I was so surprised, I almost fell off the ladder.”

Josie took a deep breath and then walked toward the ladder. “I guess I’d better see for myself.”

“Be careful. It’s a little weird,” Jill cautioned her.

“More than a little. It’s horrible,” Annette added.

“Go up. You’ll see what we’re talking about,” Dottie said, holding the ladder still as Josie climbed.

She went up slowly, dreading what was awaiting her. Blood, gore, rot . . . She had imagined that and more when she reached the canoe. Taking a deep breath, she peered over the edge of the boat. “My God.”

“Strange, isn’t it?” Jill asked.

“Yeah.” Strange was one word for it. Courtney Castle looked almost as good dead as she had alive. She was lying on her back, eyes closed, hair combed, hands crossed on her chest, no expression on her face. She even seemed to be wearing makeup. A heavy wool Hudson Bay blanket covered her from the waist down. She might have been napping. Except that she smelled—just a little.

Josie wrinkled her nose.

“Yeah, it’s hot up there and that blanket isn’t helping things either. We’re going to have to get her down before the entire place stinks.”

Josie looked down at Dottie. “We—”

“You ladies need some help or can you handle that thing yourself? Them wooden ones can be damn heavy. Give me a nice aluminum or fiberglass model any day.” Chief Rodney was back.

“I—”

“We can handle it ourselves,” Dottie told him. “Do we look weak?” She flexed an ample biceps as she spoke.

“Yeah, I guess you can manage. Gotta get going. Can’t spend the day escorting people around. See you.” He actually tipped his hat at Dottie Evans before leaving.

Annette giggled. “I think he’s got the hots for you.”

“Oh, yeah, me and a cop. That’ll be the day.” But, Josie was surprised to note, Dottie seemed to be blushing.

Josie was still standing on top of the ladder. “We should have said something. I . . . I should have told him that Courtney was up here. That she was dead.”

“Are you nuts?”

Josie looked down at Dottie. “What do you mean? We can’t just leave her here.”

“Yeah, I know. In this heat and up there near the roof, she’ll start smelling in no time at all. But I agree with Dottie, that doesn’t mean we should tell the police about her,” Jill said.

“Do you have anything to say about this?” Josie asked Annette.

“I . . . I don’t think we should say anything either. I mean, I know you should. You know, that you’re supposed to tell the police about stuff like this, but, well, considering what people are saying . . .” She stopped speaking and suddenly seemed to discover something of interest on the toe of her boot.

“About what?”

“Huh?”

“People are saying what about what?” Josie asked, becoming impatient.

“About you and Courtney Castle. You know, about your past.” Annette seemed to find it impossible to look at her boss. “Your past together.”

Josie climbed slowly down the ladder, not speaking until she was on the floor. “How do you know what people are saying?”

“I . . . You’re mad at me!”

“Annette, I’m sorry. I’m not. It’s just . . .”

“It’s just that there’s a dead body hanging over her head, you dummy,” Dottie broke in.

“I . . . Yes. Let’s all sit down and have some coffee. That way if anyone comes in it will just look like we’re on a break,” Josie suggested, suddenly realizing how likely that was.

“Good idea.” Jill nodded.

“I could use some coffee,” Annette admitted.

“I could use a shot of bourbon, but ya gotta make do with what ya got,” Dottie said, kicking her tool chest open and pulling out a thermos.

“Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea if we sort of kept a lookout—you know, just to know when someone is coming,” Josie suggested. They were, after all, sitting in a large, cleared space with an open door on either side.

“Yeah, smart.” Dottie obviously approved. “If I sit up here”—she lifted her hefty hips onto the blue tarp—“I can see straight out the back-door way, right down to the dock.”

“And I can just plop myself down here.” Jill leaned her shapely body against the covered work of art. “And I’ll be able to tell you if anyone is coming from the front.”

Josie, still at the base of the ladder, looked around. Her crew was spread out, but, unless anyone came in looking for something strange, no one would notice. Annette was still standing nervously by one of the windows. “Why don’t you sit down and relax and you can tell me all about what you heard and how you heard it,” she added.

“It’s Chad.”

“Who?”

“The college kid who works with the television people.” Dottie identified him. “That kid is always snooping around.”

“He’s not a kid and he’s not a snoop,” Annette insisted. “He’s just doing his job. And his job is to do whatever he is told to do. He’s what they call a gofer.”

“He’s what we used to call a rat.”

“He’s not!”

“What do you call someone who creeps around listening and then reporting what’s said . . .” Seeming to realize she’d gone too far, Dottie suddenly became quiet.

“Look, we’ve got a problem and we’re all better off if we don’t waste time and energy fighting with one another,” Josie said loudly.

“She’s right,” Jill said.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Do you still want me to tell you what Chad heard?” Annette asked quietly.

“I sure do. And when he told you about it.”

“Well, we sort of had a date last night. I mean, he took me to dinner and then we went for a walk on the beach.”

“Sounds like a date to me,” Dottie said.

“Yeah, well, he’s really nice, like I said, and he told me about himself and school and how he got this job. You know, he thinks he might be interested in going into television as a career and his parents thought this would be a good experience, so they’re paying for him to live here and everything.”

“Lucky kid.”

“Go on,” Josie urged.

“Well, he does whatever anyone tells him to do. You know, he goes out and picks up coffee, unloads equipment from the trucks, helps set up stuff, goes to Kinko’s to Xerox things, and lots, lots more. So he’s all over and he hears things and . . . well, this is going to sound a little odd.”

“What?”

“His mother solves murders.”

Dottie stood up. “She’s a police detective or something?” “No. She’s a mother . . . you know, a housewife. She just does it in her spare time—or something.”

“You mean—”

“What does that have to do with this?” Josie interrupted Dottie.

“Well, he’s been around murder investigations before. You know? And he’s also in a position to hear things. That’s what I’m trying to explain.”

“Go on. We can’t be on this coffee break forever.”

“Oh, sorry. Well, he said that Bobby Valentine said that you and Courtney Castle knew each other years and years ago. That you were old enemies.”

“He used that word? He said we were enemies?”

“That’s the word Chad used. I don’t really know if it’s exactly the word Bobby Valentine used.”

“Good distinction,” Josie commented. “Go on, you’re doing just fine.”

“He . . . didn’t explain. You know, he didn’t say what had happened to make you two hate each other or anything like that. Chad thinks it’s all rather odd, in fact. He says why did Courtney choose to do a show with Island Contracting if she didn’t get along with the owner?”

“Good question,” Dottie said.

“I don’t think she knew I was the owner,” Josie began.

“How could she not know that?” Dottie asked. “Your name is on the letterhead, right? And on any contract they signed with you, right?”

“Yeah. Well, not really. It’s on the letterhead, all right, but I’m not sure I ever sent them a letter. Most—maybe all—of our contact was on the phone.” She paused for a minute and thought about it. “In fact, all of it was,” she concluded. She hated writing letters and had pretty much created a form for most of her contacts, so she would remember if she had had to write something special. And now that she thought about it, everything had been done on the phone. The only papers pertaining to
Courtney Castle’s Castles
was one letter from the owners of the house giving permission for their home to be taped and waiving Island Contracting from responsibility for any damage that might occur during the taping. Josie had thought that perhaps Sam, as a lawyer, should look at it, but she was reluctant to ask him for professional favors, and somehow they had been busy with other things and she had never gotten around to showing it to him. But her problem now had nothing to do with liability. “Anyway, she probably didn’t know I was here. I think Island Contracting was chosen because we’re different, working down here on the island and being made up of women and all.”

“I don’t remember being around,” Jill said. “What did Courtney say when she saw you? ‘Ah, my old enemy from ...’ what was it, college?”

“High school actually, and we weren’t enemies, damn it. We were . . . well, we weren’t friends. You know how kids are at that age. There are cliques. An in group and an out group and dumb stuff like that. That’s how things were with us.”

“I gather Courtney Castle was a member in good standing of the innest of the in groups?”

“Yeah,” Josie admitted ruefully. “That’s not much of a surprise, is it?”

“Nope.”

“Not really,” Annette agreed with Jill.

“I hate people like that,” Dottie growled. “I’ll bet she was a cheerleader.”

“And vice president of the student council, editor of the yearbook, president of the French Club, the star of the spring musical, homecoming queen in the fall, and the girl most likely to succeed according to the yearbook.” Josie realized her crew was looking at her in amazement. She, herself, was surprised at how easily it was all coming back.

“So what did Little Miss Perfect say when she saw who she was going to be taping the show with?” Dottie asked.

“That’s the strange part,” Josie admitted. “I recognized her, but if she recognized me, she didn’t admit it—at least not at first.”

“Strange,” Annette breathed, her eyes wide open.

“It is a little odd,” Jill agreed.

“Why?” Dottie shrugged her well-developed shoulders. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?”

SIXTEEN

"NOW I EXPLAINED to you all earlier. Courtney, as the celebrity of the show, has lots of obligations and reasons why she can’t hang around the set constantly— Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Just muttering to myself,” Dottie said.

Josie was just thankful that Bobby Valentine hadn’t heard Dottie’s comment concerning Courtney and her tendency to “hang around” this particular set. “Go on,” she urged.

“Well, as I was saying, we frequently have to shoot around Courtney. This isn’t at all an unusual situation. So if you ladies will just go on working in the background, I’d like to ask your boss here a few questions.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

“Where do you want me to stand?”

Bobby Valentine smiled at Annette. “Right over there.” He pointed. “And you.” He nodded to Jill. “If you would just work right there. To the left of Josie? Great.”

“And where do you want me? Or are you afraid I’ll fill up the screen?” Dottie asked.

“I don’t suppose you could think of anything to do up on the ladder? It would add interest on another level. No? Well, then, maybe you can help that young lady . . . Ann—”

“Annette.”

“Great. Lovely name. Like one of the Mouseketeers, right? The one who was . . . well, Annette. If you would just act like you’re helping her hammer together that . . . uh, that beam or whatever it is.”

Josie didn’t know anything about television, but she sure didn’t want her crew looking as though they were wandering around unoccupied or aimless during the workday, so she intervened. “Dottie, you and Annette get rid of the window frames on that side of the house and start demoing the walls. Jill, if you could pull the wires and top off the pipes around the perimeter? Great!” Once everyone was occupied, she returned her attention to the producer. “So what do you want to ask me?”

“If you don’t mind, why don’t we do two separate interviews? The show isn’t completely blocked in and I’m not absolutely sure where these questions will be edited in.”

“Fine with me. Where do you want me to sit?”

“I don’t want you to sit. I want you to work and Courtney will come up to you, interrupt, and ask you some questions. Okay?”

“Sure. Do you want me to help them remove that wall?”

“No way. Our audience has been watching walls come down and go up for years and years. Let’s think of something interesting. Something unique about the house . . .”

“I could be doing something with that sculpture.”

“No. I don’t think so. How about the canoe? It’s coming down, right?”

“Yes, but not right now—”

“Hey, nothing is happening right now. It’s all fiction. But you climb up the ladder and look like you’re examining the . . . whatever is holding that canoe up there and I’ll walk up as though I’m Courtney. Okay?”

Josie knew why she didn’t want to do it, but she couldn’t think of a rational excuse not to, so she climbed up slowly and then even more slowly as she approached the top.

“Now, why don’t you just put your hand . . . not that hand! The other one! Don’t want to block that . . . uh, pretty . . . face! Okay! Okay! Just hold that position! How does she look?”

Josie jumped back. He knew Courtney was up there. “She . . . she . . .”

“The cameraman is trying to get your face in the picture.” The statement came from Dottie, and Josie suddenly realized that Bobby Valentine was talking about her, not Courtney. “Maybe I should tie back my hair?”

“No!”

“Didn’t you tell her? I thought that Henshaw kid . . . Chad . . . was supposed to tell everybody on the crew about their clothing!” The cameraman seemed distressed.

“I . . .” Annette was hesitant. “I . . . He told me and I told him . . . that is, I said I would explain to everyone else. I . . . Something happened and . . . I forgot.”

“Okay. I will repeat myself. Everybody listen to me. We will be taping six shows. While each of you may not appear in each show, you will all appear in more than one, probably half of them, maybe more. You must wear the same thing for each day of shooting—”

“We—”

“What?”

“Guess you don’t care how we smell, do you?”

“What’s the big deal? Just put your jeans and T-shirt in the washer when you get home each night and—”

Josie was momentarily distracted. “Most of us don’t live in houses with a washer and dryer in the basement.” (She had a fleeting vision of the laundry room in her parents’ basement. Like the rest of the house, it was color-coordinated; in this case turquoise, cream, and yellow.) “And even if we did, we work hard. Going home to do laundry is not exactly restful.”

“Besides, we didn’t know we were going to be seen in what we showed up in today for the entire series,” Annette protested.

“Look, just try to wear something similar. Maybe we can make an exception with this series—after all, we all know how ladies are about their clothing.” He looked up at four scowling women. “Uh, let’s get going. Don’t be afraid to really get into your work.”

The hammering became louder. Josie knew that when those windows were pulled the sound would be deafening, but Bobby Valentine continued to give directions.

“I will walk in with the cameraman following me. The camera will pan the room—quickly—and then up the rungs of the ladder to where Josie is working.” He turned all his attention on her. “I’ll call out a loud hello and we’ll take it from there. Okay?”

“I . . . uh . . . what if I say something stupid?”

“Not to worry. In the first place, you’re a smart cookie and you won’t. In the second place, nothing goes out unedited. Ready?”

“Yeah. I guess.” She wasn’t, but her nervousness about being on television was competing with the horror of being so near Courtney’s body. She had to get down off this ladder as quickly as possible.

“Okay. Take one. Panning. Panning. Panning. Panning. Hi, Josie!”

“Hi, Bo . . . Mr. . . . Shit. You wanted me to say hello to Courtney, didn’t you?”

“Sure didn’t want you to say hello to Mr. Shit.”

“Yeah. Sorry. Can we do that again? Take two?” she asked, inspired.

“Yeah, as Ms. Pigeon says, take two. Everyone’s a producer these days. We’ll start with the hello.

“Hello, Josie!”

She looked down at him and grinned. “Hello, Courtney . . . Miss Castle . . . Is it all right if I call her Courtney?”

“Everyone else in America does, why not you? Take three. Hello, Ms. Pigeon.”

“Hello, Courtney.” Josie found herself grinning foolishly down into the large lens of a video camera.

“Josie Pigeon is the founder, owner, and head carpenter at Island Contracting— What’s that, Josie?”

“I said not founder. It was founded by Noel Roberts. He died and left the company to me.”

“Well, I guess he was a real friend, wasn’t he? So, Josie, why don’t you tell us a bit about this house you’re working on today? That canoe is an interesting thing to hang from the ceiling. Is it decoration or is something hiding in there? What was that?”

“Sounds like a window coming out of a wall—the easy way, Courtney.” She was particularly proud of herself for remembering to speak to the dead woman, but she was having a difficult time not glancing over at the body. Then she had an inspiration. “You know, Courtney, this canoe is going to hang in the house after it’s remodeled. Except for the sculpture by the fireplace, pretty much everything else is going to change. Maybe you’d like to see the blueprints?”

“Cut. Josie, Courtney is the one who decides in what direction the conversation is going. Just respond to her questions, please.”

“Oh, of course.”

“So is this canoe going to hang in the house once it’s remodeled?”

“Yes.”

“And is it the only original decoration that will remain?”

“Well, there’s a sculpture next to the fireplace. It was created by a famous artist and will be in the new living room as well.”

“Maybe you could come down from there and we could look at the blueprints for this project?”

“Sure, Courtney. That’s a great idea.” She heard some snickering from her crew, but maybe the audience would think it was just some sort of construction noise. She made some unnecessary noise coming down the ladder, trying to cover it up. “I think the blues are on the counter in the kitchen.”

“Well, let’s go look at them, shall we?”

Thank God! Knees shaking from stress, Josie started to walk toward the kitchen.

“Cut!”

She jumped and looked around. That hadn’t been Bobby Valentine’s voice.

“Keep going in that direction and those women will be in the next shot,” the cameraman warned them.

Bobby Valentine stopped in his tracks. “I see what you mean, but we don’t want to give the impression that Josie and Courtney are here alone. I mean, it doesn’t hurt to have people in the background shots.”

“Maybe they could be working out on the deck and the camera could sort of glimpse them through the window. You know, enough to see people—women—working, but not enough so that they can be identified later.”

“Great. Good. Super. How about it, ladies?”

“Do you all mind?” Josie asked. She was beginning to feel very frustrated by this whole operation.

“We don’t mind at all,” Jill said, a smile on her face as she hurried out of camera range. Dottie, as usual, looked disgruntled. And Annette, spying Chad Henshaw carrying a load of lights toward the house, hurried in his direction.

“Josie, those blues are interesting and we’ll be referring to them as we go through the other shows, but right now I want to ask you about your past, about what led you to be a carpenter in the first place.”

“I . . . Courtney wanted you to ask me these questions?”

“Cut! I have a list here. It won’t take long, but answer as briefly as possible and PLEASE remember you’re talking to Courtney, as well as to thirteen or fourteen million viewers.”

“Thirteen . . . Well, go ahead.”

“Tell us a bit about your background. Where did you grow up, for instance?”

“I . . . I grew up in a small town, a suburb really, of Philadelphia.”

“Really? And what led you into carpentry? And to this island?”

“Well, I . . . um . . . that’s not easy to answer.”

“Were there builders in your family? Did you have any particular role model?”

Josie laughed. “No, my family specialized in bankers and businessmen, not builders. I . . . Do you think I need to answer these questions? They’re sort of private.”

“Cut!” There was a scowl forming on Bobby Valentine’s usually happy face. “Look, half of this stuff will end up on the cutting-room floor. But Courtney wanted these questions asked for background information and we’re going to do it. And I don’t know about you, but I’d sure like to get it over with.”

“Fine. Take . . . whatever.”

“Scene two. Take two. I’ll ask the next question on this sheet. How many years ago did you begin your career as a carpenter?”

Well, that one was easy. “Almost sixteen years, Courtney.”

“There are a fair amount of women in the building trades these days, Josie, but that wasn’t true back then—”

“No, it wasn’t. Oh, you hadn’t asked the question, had you? Sorry. Cut.”

“Keep rolling, we’ll edit later. There are a fair number of women in the building trades these days, Josie, but that wasn’t true back then. What did your family think of your decision to pursue such an unusual career?”

“I . . . They . . . I had an infant son at the time and he just loved hanging around construction sites. In fact, the crew I was working on then got together at lunchtime and made him the most wonderful set of blocks out of leftover hardwoods. He still has them and he’s a teenager now.”

“Cut! Look, that’s all very interesting, but I don’t think it’s the way Courtney expected you to answer her question.”

“Why?”

“She has lots of questions here about high school.”

“Like what?”

“Whether you took shop classes.”

“No. That’s not a very interesting answer, is it?”

“Let’s try the next one. Did you take home economics?”

“It was a required course when I was in high school.”

“And did you do well?”

“Not really.”

“What happened? Did the hems you sewed fall apart? Did you burn the hot chocolate? Stuff like that?”

“It’s almost as though you were there to see it, Courtney.” Josie tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice. After all, Courtney was dead. It was stupid to be angry at her. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. “Just because I didn’t get all A’s like you did—” She realized what she was saying and stopped speaking.

Bobby Valentine was looking at her with a strange expression on his face. “So it’s true. You and Courtney do have a past in common.”

“I . . .” The camera rolled on, but she had no idea what to say.

“Let me ask you one more question, Josie. Do you know what happened to Courtney?”

“I . . .”

“Because she said you would.”

“She said what?”

“She said if something happened to her, I should ask you about it.”

Josie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. And the camera rolled on.