This Old Murder (16 page)

TWENTY-THREE

DESPITE THE ADVICE of health gurus, the American Medical Association, and her mother, Josie believed that problems were best dealt with under the influence of lots of caffeine, starch, and sugar. Sam, straight from the bakery, brought all three in large quantities.

“I should wait until my coffee break, but—”

“It’s breakfast,” Sam urged, opening a bag and handing her a large rectangle of cake covered with thick, powdery streusel topping.

Josie noticed he was carrying three bags. “How much did you get?”

He chuckled. “I love a woman who loves her food! Don’t worry. There’s more than enough. Three slabs of cake and it’s all for you and your crew. I have a toasted bagel in the car to munch on when I get hungry.”

Probably without butter or cream cheese. Josie loved this man, but she didn’t share his taste in food. “Sam, something strange happened this morning.”

He was instantly alert. “Something to do with Courtney’s murder?” he asked quietly.

“No, nothing that serious, but it’s . . . I . . . I’m in an awkward position. You see, I sort of had a run-in with the couple next door.” She explained what had happened, then was disappointed in Sam’s response.

“Sounds to me as though they’re making a mountain out of that molehill everyone’s always talking about. I know she hasn’t worked for you long, but what do you think about Annette?”

“She’s a good carpenter. But she’s young and in love and—”

“What I was asking—and I should have put the question more clearly, I admit—was do you think she will do what you tell her to do?”

“I don’t see why not. She knows I’m the boss and I haven’t seen any signs that she has trouble with that fact.”

“So warn Annette not to neck with her new boyfriend on the neighbors’ property—or in their sight—and don’t worry about the . . . What are their names?”

“Cheryl and Howard. I don’t know their last names.”

“Well, then, don’t worry about what Cheryl and Howard think.”

“You’re right. I’ve had problems with cranky neighbors before. I guess I just let this upset me because of everything that’s been going on around here.”

“Understandable.” Sam looked down at her. There was a serious expression on his handsome face. “Josie, I had trouble sleeping last night. I kept thinking about what happened here yesterday and wondering how I could help.”

She beamed. What a nice man!

“So I called this woman I mentioned to you yesterday. The one who worked for public television.”

“The one you used to date.” The smile had vanished from her face.

“Yes. I didn’t tell her about your problem, of course. But I did explain that I was interested in learning more about Courtney Castle.”

“And does she know her?” Josie didn’t know whether she wanted him to answer yes or no.

“Yes, and she has access to tapes of all the shows Courtney has been on in the past.”

Now that was interesting. Josie perked up. “Really?”

“Yes, and she offered to get some for us.”

“Really? That’s nice of her. I’ve been wondering about Courtney. Apparently she’s terribly popular. It’s hard to imagine anyone wanting to kill her. The more we find out about her at this point, the better.”

“I thought the same thing. Anyway, she’ll be down this afternoon, early if the traffic isn’t bad, and—”

“She’s going to deliver the tapes in person?”

“I suggested she FedEx them, but she said something about getting away for the weekend and volunteered. I thought it was very nice of her.”

“It will give you both the opportunity to catch up,” she said shortly.

“Josie . . .”

The arrival of Josie’s crew prevented her from making a jealous fool of herself. “I have to go. When do you think I can see the tapes?”

“Tonight. I’ll call you as soon as Sondra arrives with them.”

“Sure.” Sondra—not Sandra, not Sandy, but Sondra. Didn’t Sam know any women who weren’t rich, thin, and chic? Any women other than herself? she added mentally. “If you can’t get me here, call the office. The machine is on there and I’ll be checking in this afternoon. I need to spend an hour or so figuring out overtime so I can write paychecks.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I have them.” He kissed her quickly and was off. Josie went over to her crew. They had all had an evening to think over the events of the day before, and from the looks on their faces they had all found it a sobering experience.

“Sam brought fresh crumb cake. Why don’t we have some before we start,” she suggested.

“Okay,” Annette agreed listlessly. It was the most enthusiastic response from the three.

“In the house,” Josie added, seeing a van of television people pull up to the curb.

“Good idea. One more perky greeting from that Valentine guy and I just might woof my cookies.” Dottie scowled and stomped off.

They all followed, waiting impatiently while Josie unlocked the front door.

The canoe still sat in the middle of the floor. There was a pause while the women all looked at it. Then Josie took a deep breath, stomped across the bare wood, stepped over the side, and plopped herself down on the caned seat at the back of the boat. “Anyone want some crumb cake?” she asked, holding up the white bakery bags.

Dottie snorted and then one of her rare grins appeared. “Well, what the hell. I do. You’ve got guts, boss. I’ll give you that. Real guts.”

“Thanks. Anyone else want some?”

Annette and Jill glanced at each other and then at the food, but whatever their feelings about the situation, greed won out. In a few minutes the women were seated around the canoe, eating and talking quietly.

“I didn’t think we’d get much done if we had to pussyfoot around this thing all day,” Josie stated flatly, then stopped. Why were her parents’ corny expressions slipping into her speech so often these days? “I mean, what the hell. She’s dead and gone and we have to go on with our work and . . . and all,” she ended rather weakly.

“You know, you’re right. Nothing we do can bring her back,” Annette said rather tensely, taking her first bite of cake.

“True,” Jill agreed, stopping eating long enough to wipe up the drift of confectioners’ sugar that had fallen on her ample chest.

“I think the best thing we can do is just get on with our work—and cooperate with the television crew, of course,” Josie said.

“Oh, I was supposed to tell you.” Annette spoke up, her mouth full of cake. “Chad said that Bobby Valentine wants to interview each of us individually again today. Apparently they’re interested in hearing about our training. He said it would take less than half an hour apiece. But he wanted your permission, Josie. I was supposed to say something about it first thing this morning.”

“Oh, well, what do the rest of you think?”

“Fine with me,” Dottie said. “Just as long as they ask about my work and not about my personal life. That’s no one’s business but mine.”

“You should tell him that before the interview starts,” Josie suggested. Not that she thought it would necessarily make a difference. “And remember the interviews are edited. If you don’t like a question, you can refuse to answer and they can just cut it out.”

“Are you sure?”

Josie looked up. The last question had come from Jill, which surprised her. As far as she knew, Jill had nothing to hide. Unless . . . Jill had something to do with Courtney Castle’s death. “I’m sure,” she answered, reaching for another square of crumb cake and trying to remember the information on Jill’s application form. She didn’t remember much, so it probably had been unremarkable. She didn’t remember where Jill had been born, but she had trained as a carpenter in Buffalo, New York. She’d left there for the suburbs around Portland, Oregon, where she’d worked for a number of years before arriving on the island in the late spring. There were undoubtably other details, but this was all she remembered. If any of it related to Courtney, she sure didn’t see how.

“Where did Sam rush off to?” Dottie asked after a rather long silence.

“He . . . well, to be truthful, he went back to the store to wait for an old friend who’s arriving on the island sometime this afternoon.” Josie didn’t see any reason to mention the sex of this old friend or to change the phrase “old friend” to something more appropriate, like “old flame.” She frowned.

“Someone you don’t like?” Jill asked.

“Someone I don’t know,” Josie replied honestly.

“Maybe you can get away while we’re being interviewed and meet him,” Annette suggested.

“Maybe. But it’s time we got to work. I do need to talk to you all. I was going to speak with Annette privately, but I think this could concern all of you.

“The couple next door complained to me this morning that Annette and Chad were on their property—”

“We weren’t!” Annette protested. “I know better than to trespass on anyone’s private property!”

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just telling you what they told me.” God, she really was beginning to sound like her mother.

“They told you that Chad and I walked on their property? When? Did they accuse us of leaping over the split-rail fence that divides their property from this one?”

“No, they didn’t say anything like that. If you must know, they accused you and Chad of making out on their property. It’s your business what the two of you do, and I know you’re a hard worker and probably were with Chad during a break, but—”

“But they were lying.”

“I . . .” Josie looked at Annette. She was obviously indignant. Could she be telling the truth? “Really? Why would they lie?”

“I have no idea. But Chad and I were never on their property. And we weren’t necking—or anything like that—on their property or on this one.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. We are . . . well, we do like each other, but we’re not kids! We’re not necking in the bushes, for heaven’s sake. We both have our own places to live. Jill and I share a place and Chad has his own apartment over a garage. It’s big and private and . . . everything.”

“Look, I believe you.” What Annette said made sense. “But—”

“But what?”

“But why would they make something like this up?”

“They’re nuts.” Dottie interjected her opinion. “They’re always peering over that stupid bayberry hedge at the end of the property to see what’s going on.”

“Really? Maybe they’re interested in our work. Or in possibly hiring Island Contracting in the future. I probably should have been nicer,” Josie said.

“They’re not interested in Island Contracting for any reason,” Dottie said. “They’re fascinated by the TV people. They watched and watched and thought of excuses to come over here while Courtney was around, but now they’ve lost interest.”

“Unless . . .” Josie began slowly.

“Unless what?” Jill asked quickly.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Well, Chad and I didn’t do anything improper, and even if we had, we sure wouldn’t have gone next door to do it,” Annette repeated. “And I’d be happy to go over there and tell them that if you want.”

“No. Let’s just leave it be and get to work. We’re going to fall behind if we don’t watch out.”

They all knew what to do and Josie was relieved when the work resumed and she could take some time to think. She didn’t understand what was going on. She hadn’t known Annette for long, but the young woman’s argument made sense. Why would she and Chad be necking, here or next door, when they both had places where they could be alone together? On the other hand, why would Cheryl and Howard lie about it? Could it be that they had mistaken two other people for Annette and Chad? It was the only possible answer. She decided to worry about something else.

Naturally, the first thought she had was of the woman now, presumably, on her way to see Sam. Sondra. Blond, she decided. Slim, of course. (They all were.) Well educated and well connected. (She was, after all, working in a very competitive medium.) Well coiffed, well dressed, skin that looked as though it lived in a spa and was only taken out and worn on special occasions. Josie was becoming seriously depressed. Because even if Sam actually believed this woman’s story that she was coming to the shore and would find it convenient to drop off the tapes, to Josie it sounded like an excuse to renew an old acquaintance—and possibly to kindle an old flame.

It’s dangerous to stop paying attention to what you’re doing when you work with heavy equipment. Josie picked up a piece of molding and slid it against the back of the table saw but didn’t hold on tightly enough as she lowered the blade. The wood shattered and pieces flew in all directions. A splinter slit her left wrist. She turned off the saw and leaned back. She was lucky she hadn’t been seriously injured. But the molding had been a special order and would be expensive to replace. Damn, damn, and triple damn. Nothing was going well today!

She straightened, kicked the lumber aside, and slapped her hands together. She had the supplier’s number back at the office. The sooner she replaced this piece, the better. She stuck her head out the back door. “I’ve got to go back to the office for a few minutes. Anyone need anything there or on the way?”

“We were just talking about ordering some lunch,” Jill said.

Josie realized they were reluctant to ask their boss to run errands for them. “If you get something from the Deli Delight, they would have it ready and waiting for me to pick up in less than half an hour. I know it’s early for lunch, but it would save time later in the day.”

“We’ll order stuff that can wait around for a bit,” Dottie promised.

“Good. Then an Italian hoagie with the works for me and tell them I’ll be by to pick up the order in about twenty minutes. See you.”

Howard and Cheryl were entertaining Bobby Valentine on their front deck. Josie assumed they were regaling him with the tale of Chad and Annette’s misdeeds. She walked faster, hoping they either wouldn’t see her or would ignore her presence. No such luck.

“Josie! Ms. Pigeon. Did that young woman tell you we want to interview your carpenters this afternoon?” Bobby Valentine called out.