This Old Murder (5 page)

SEVEN

AS THE FIRST day of shooting Courtney Castle’s Castles continued, the crowds, discouraged by police efforts to keep anyone from seeing anything interesting, dispersed and returned to the sand and surf. Josie and her crew weren’t lucky enough to have that option.

After the interview was over, Josie hurried back to work. They were going to frame in the extension at the back of the house before opening that wall to the outside. The same thing would be done in the front, and then, when the interior walls had been removed and if the good weather held, the upward expansion would begin. The entire project was scheduled to take six weeks. Each week Courtney and/or her crew would be on hand for at least two days of taping. The end result was to be a completely remodeled house and one fund-raising television series.

Her crew had begun marking out the new foundation. Here on the bay, the only foundation possible was of pilings pounded into the ground by the same company that did underwater work for docks and bridges. It was a unique process, and the show was interested in taping this part of the construction.

And Josie was interested in moving beyond the interview stage.

Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt this way. As soon as the television crew was out of hearing range, the complaints began.

“God, why do they want to know so many personal things about us?” Jill said, pulling her T-shirt away from her body. The sun was bright and the women were sweating as they worked.

“Nosy parkers,” Dottie muttered.

Josie raised her eyebrows. That seemed like an awfully subdued reaction from the person she had expected to find the most upset. “They did ask some awfully personal questions,” she commented.

“At least the producer interviewed you. We got stuck with that kid intern. He asked me where I grew up, when I decided to be a carpenter, how I learned my trade, what led me to Island Contracting. I wanted to tell that young punk that he could just mind his own business!” Jill said angrily.

“I think he’s cute.” Annette spoke up. “We ran into each other last night at that pizza place on the boardwalk and had dinner together.”

“That kid wearing the Cornell T-shirt? Are you nuts? He’s the product of some prep school in a wealthy suburb. His parents have so much money, he doesn’t even have to get one of those easy summer jobs that most kids have. He’s an intern. An intern!” Dottie made the term sound like something awful. “And just in case you’re getting any ideas, I can tell you that he’s not going to be interested in a carpenter. Those Ivy League types are only slumming when they’re being nice to the likes of us.”

Annette put down the plumb line she was using and looked straight at Dottie. “What about Josie and Sam? He’s a lawyer and she’s just a carpenter. . . .” She glanced over at Josie.

“I don’t think of myself as ‘just a carpenter.’ And Sam doesn’t either,” Josie said. “And if you like this guy, go for it.”

Annette’s face broke into a large smile. “He asked me to go out with him tonight. I said I didn’t know what time we’d be finished work—”

“We’ll be done in time for you to see him. Why don’t you go tell him it’s a date? And if you need an excuse to be out front, get the thermos of coffee and the bakery box from the front seat of my truck. We may as well take a coffee break now.”

Annette bounced off happily.

“You and Sam are an exception,” Dottie stated flatly. “And you probably know it. How many college-educated men have you dated since you entered the trades?”

“Not many—not that I’ve dated all that much. But Annette is young and it’s nice to be young and think all things are possible.”

“You’re right,” Jill agreed, nodding. “Let Annette keep that feeling for as long as she can— Why are you back so soon?” she asked as Annette reappeared. “And where’s the food Josie told you to bring?”

“I ran into Chad—that’s his name, Chad Henshaw—and he told me there’s food set up on a table in the driveway.”

“Yeah, I saw the truck delivering it,” Dottie said. “They hauled out all sorts of goodies. But it’s for the TV people, not for the likes of us.”

“No! That’s not true. Chad was on his way here to tell us that Bobby Valentine invited everyone to eat there, for breaks as well as for lunch. The food is provided by merchants on the island for a credit—I think he called it a credit—at the end of the show. I saw it—it’s a feast!”

They didn’t have to be invited twice.

Josie’s first thought, upon spying the lavish spread laid out on two large tables and shaded by multicolored beach umbrellas, was to wonder why anyone would ever eat a rice cake when such delicious bounty was available. She was piling sugary Bismarcks on a large paper plate when she noticed Courtney walking by, a can of Diet Coke in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other.

“I see you still have that sweet tooth,” Courtney said, speeding up so that Josie didn’t have time to respond.

Josie opened her mouth and then, realizing what she was looking at, closed it again. Son of a gun, she thought. “I see you’re still a sourpuss” was what she called out, picking up a doughnut and taking a large bite. Too large, it turned out. A chunk of sugary coating stuck in her throat and she began to choke. Embarrassingly enough, everyone came to her aid. By the time her back had been slapped and offers to try out newly acquired Heimlich skills refused, Courtney was standing in the middle of the sidewalk, smiling at the camera set up before her.

“If you’re feeling better, they’re going to need you in a few minutes,” Bobby Valentine said.

“Why?”

“Courtney wants to tape the show’s opening introducing you and the project.”

“But I thought that wasn’t going to happen today!”

“Courtney thought this would be a good day. I guess she’s had time to glance at the background notes on you and Island Contracting and she’s ready to go.”

“And when Courtney is ready to go, you go?”

He shrugged. “She’s the star of the whole shebang.”

“Do I have time to put on makeup?”

“Well, we were aiming more for the natural look.” He glanced over at Courtney.

Josie looked, too. Courtney’s cheeks were pink, her eyelashes black, and her lips bright red. She looked wonderful, but not . . . “That’s natural?” Josie asked.

“That’s what Courtney looks like on the air. Always. Period.”

Josie took a second look at Courtney. “Oh, well, I suppose she would look better than I do even if I had makeup on and a fresh haircut.”

“Let’s face it. If you were better-looking than Courtney, you probably wouldn’t have been chosen to be on the show. Besides, you look very alive, very perky.”

“Thanks.” Faint praise was better than none at all. “I think you’re being waved at.”

“Time to get this baby on tape. Want to borrow my comb again?”

“I think I’ll settle for the windblown look.” She tried to tuck in her T-shirt as they walked over to join Courtney and the cameraman. “I’ve heard the camera adds five pounds.”

“Ten actually. Ready to tape, Courtney?”

“Just waiting for you.” She scowled at Josie.

“I’m here now.” Josie scowled back. Just like old times. “Where do you want me to stand?”

“We were just thinking that you both could be perched on the deck railing—on either side of the corner.” The cameraman pointed. “Light’s good. House is in the background and if I pan to the right, there’s a nice view of the bay.”

Courtney smiled. “Sounds good to me. What about you, Josie?”

“Fine.” She tried to emulate the energetic little jump that put Courtney up onto the railing and heard the wood creak ominously. “Shouldn’t I be prepared? What are you going to ask me?”

“You know, we used to give guests lists of questions and what we discovered was that they prepared answers and the show lost some spontaneity.”

“Besides, you’re only going to be asked about your life and work. You know the answers,” Bobby Valentine added, probably seeing the worried expression on Josie’s face.

“We’re going to lose the light behind us in an hour or so,” the cameraman warned them.

“I’m just going to introduce you and then off we go,” Courtney explained, and then, without a pause, did just that. “Welcome to
Courtney Castle’s Castles
. Would you like to own a summer home? Someplace to kick back and relax? Maybe someplace with a dock for your boat? Well, we’ve found a place just like that. But it needs a lot of work and that’s where Josie Pigeon and Island Contracting come in.”

And suddenly Courtney turned to face her and Josie realized she was on. “Hi, Josie.”

Well, that was easy. “Hi, Courtney.” She tried to match Courtney’s enthusiasm.

But Courtney was talking to the camera. “Josie is a carpenter who owns her own contracting company here on the island. The company employs only women.” Courtney smiled. “I always like to think that my feminist sisters are getting a break, but tell me, is this type of discrimination legal, Josie?”

It came at her out of left field. “Ah . . .” She thought furiously. “We don’t hire workers just because they are women. But there are still many companies that do discriminate against female workers, so these women need jobs. And, you know, we would hire men . . .” She realized she was talking to the side of Courtney’s face.

“Do you find the women are as well trained as men doing the same jobs?”

“As well or better. And some of the women we’ve hired have unique skills. Jill Pike, who is working on this project with Island Contracting, has spent some time in the Northwest, where she participated in building cob homes.”

“She made a home from corncobs?”

Josie felt as if she had the upper hand for a moment and decided to make the most of it. “No, Courtney, cob construction is an ancient building technique. Cob is a mixture of sand, straw, and clay. Jill and the group she was working with built six homes from that material over the course of two summers.”

“In the Northwest?”

“Yes, and I know what you’re thinking. The material is completely impervious to rain once it dries.”

Courtney seemed speechless for a few minutes. “How interesting. Ah . . .”

“It’s really fascinating,” Josie continued. “Families can actually build their own homes without much professional help and save considerable amounts of money—”

“Speaking of women, work, and families, Josie. How does your family feel about the life you’ve chosen?”

Josie smiled. “My son, Tyler, is sixteen years old and I think he’s proud of what I do. When he was small, he and I used to bicycle around the island in good weather and he would point out what he called Mommy’s houses.”

“I was referring to the rest of your family. Your mother and father. How do they feel about you being a carpenter? Are they also proud of your handiwork?”

“I haven’t . . . that is, they haven’t . . .” She took a deep breath and tried to figure out what to say. “My parents don’t live on the island” was all she came up with. She was busy trying to keep a scowl off her face. That damn camera was still going.

“That’s too bad. They might be proud to see how successful their little girl is.” Courtney turned back to the camera, smiled, and changed the subject. “So we’ll be meeting more women than we usually do on our shows during this project. Tell us a bit about the island, Josie. I gather you’re not a native? How long have you lived here?”

Josie tried to keep her voice modulated. “No, I’m not. I came here right after . . . over a dozen years ago.”

“So you were here during the boom years of the late eighties, when real estate values increased dramatically.”

“Yes.” Josie decided it was time to get the attention away from her personal life. “But this house was built before that time. This house was built in the midsixties by a developer who put up at least a couple of dozen of these homes, usually doing exactly what he did here—buying up an entire block and filling it with a line of identical little A-frames.

“There aren’t many left in their original state,” Josie continued, wondering why the questions had stopped. “This job is interesting because instead of tearing down the entire structure and building something new, the owners have chosen to retain parts of the original house. We’re even extending the chimney from the first floor up through the roof of the new addition.”

Josie didn’t know what else to say, so she stopped talking and waited for Courtney to pick up the ball.

But Courtney was sitting quietly, looking a bit like she’d adopted some Buddhist practice. There was a slight smile on her lips and her eyes seemed to be focused on something far away in the distance.

“Cut!” Bobby Valentine ended the moment. “Do you want to do the walk-through of the house now or wait until after lunch?” he asked Courtney.

“I suppose we may as well block it out now.”

Josie was amazed by the transformation. When the camera was on, Courtney was bright and alert. But without an imaginary audience, she almost seemed deflated. “Block it out? Do you need me?”

“What do you think, Court? Do you want to do the walk-through alone or with Josie?”

Bobby Valentine’s question pulled Courtney back from the vast beyond. Her eyes focused on her producer and she seemed to consider the question.

“Maybe it would be best if Josie came along and she could suggest where we run into her crew members,” Bobby Valentine suggested. “We probably won’t introduce everyone during one show, but we try to give the audience an opportunity early in the series to recognize the people who will be on the set. It serves two purposes. First, it’s less distracting. Viewers don’t need to be wondering about the man—or woman—in a background shot while Courtney is talking or doing an interview. And it helps the viewer relate to the project.”

“Why does that matter?” Josie asked, thankful for the arm he offered to help her get off the railing more gracefully than she had gotten on, and then followed him through the door into the house.

“Our show is supposed to be educational, at least that’s how it’s billed. And we do show almost every new product on the market as well as the ways to use them. And certainly anyone planning to work on a house can get lots of great ideas by watching. But most of our viewers will never do anything as extensive or expensive as the jobs we show. They tune in because it’s fun to imagine being involved in a large-scale remodeling project without the grief or the expense involved in real life.”