This Old Murder (6 page)

“You’re saying
Courtney Castle’s Castles
is entertainment.”

He grinned. “Yup. But don’t tell anyone involved in public broadcasting. We used to get government funding to do this stuff, remember.”

Josie noticed he was looking over her shoulder through the still open doorway. “Isn’t Courtney coming?”

“It’s difficult to know just what she’s doing these days.” The words seemed to be said more to himself than in answer to her question. “But,” he continued firmly, “why don’t you and I go through the house and we can discuss how your work is going to connect with ours. Courtney can catch up later.”

“Great.”

“Courtney will introduce you on the deck in the first shot of the first show. And since she’ll mention your unique crew at that time, we think another introduction should take place within that half hour. Maybe someone could be finishing up a last bit of demolition in here?”

“Well, we’re protecting the chimney and hearth down here. Maybe—”

Josie was interrupted by a loud screech. It was so loud and frightening that at first she feared someone had been murdered. But it turned out to be the beginning of a Courtney Castle temper tantrum.

EIGHT

ANNETTE LONG WAS pink with excitement. “You should have seen her! She was completely off the wall!”

“You’re right. I couldn’t imagine what was going on,” Jill agreed, nodding furiously.

“Hysterical bitch.” Dottie was typically succinct.

Josie looked down at the plate in front of her. Caesar salad with grilled shrimp. Marinated roasted red peppers. Fresh rolls and butter. And there were three cheesecakes being cut up for dessert. Plain, chocolate, and raspberry. “But there are fringe benefits for putting up with her,” she reminded them.

“She’s so thin. I don’t know how she eats all this stuff without gaining weight. Do you think she has a personal trainer?” Annette asked.

“Ha!” Jill was sarcastic. “She doesn’t eat real food. Every time I see her, she’s taking tiny little bites from one of those disgusting rice cakes. I’d rather eat sawdust!”

“Anorexic bitch.” Dottie patted her protruding stomach fondly.

“I suspect we won’t be seeing all that much of her. I’m beginning to get the impression that Island Contracting is just scenery for
Courtney Castle’s Castles
,” Josie said, a frown on her face.

“Oh, good, can I be a tree?” Jill asked. The women were sitting together on the dock behind the house, and Jill reached out, plucked a branch from an evergreen bush overhanging the water, and stuck it jauntily behind her left ear.

“Me, too,” Annette said, giggling and running off the dock to collect more branches. “Here.” She handed one to Dottie, who jammed it into her hair so that it stuck up like a feather in a child’s Native American headdress. “You, too,” she said impulsively, and, forgetting that Josie was the boss, began tucking leaves and tiny branches into her mop of red hair.

Josie laughed and stuck a curl of red pepper in her mouth like a lizard’s proboscis. “You guys be the flora and I’ll be the fauna,” she said, giggling. These women hadn’t been working for her for long and she was usually reluctant to “let down her hair” with new employees, but the taping was creating a lot of tension and she couldn’t resist the temptation to let off a bit of steam. Apparently the others felt the same way—except for Dottie, who was still scowling. Or maybe scowling was something Dottie enjoyed; she certainly did it enough.

Josie picked up a long roll, held it like a microphone in front of her face, and stood. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Josephine Pigeon, host of
Pigeon’s
. . .
Pigeon’s Palaces
.”

The women shrieked with laughter.

“And I would like to introduce you to my crew.” She held the roll out to Annette. “This is Annette Long, star of
Annette’s
Adobes
, a build-it-yourself-with-the-stuff-in-your-backyard show. And this woman is Dottie Evans, star of
Dottie’s Duplexes
, building for two—”

“How about
Dottie’s Dives
?” Annette suggested through giggles.

“I was hoping for
Dottie’s Dumps
. Build your own trashy place to crash,” Dottie admitted, almost smiling.

“And me! What about me?” Jill demanded.

“Jill’s . . .”
Josie drew a blank. “
Jill’s
what?”

“I have it,” Dottie said, really getting into the swing of things. “How about Jill Pike, builder of the
House of Jill Repute
.”

“I love it!” Annette jumped up and down, causing the whole dock to shake. “
House of Jill Repute!
That’s a good one!” She seemed to notice a lack of enthusiasm in Jill’s response. “Don’t you get it? Jill Repute. Like Ill Repute. Like a whorehouse.”

“I get it. I get it.” Jill sounded weary, and Josie jumped in to rescue the moment.

“How about
Jill’s Joints
? It can go on the air right after
Dottie’s Dumps
. We’ll create a new Saturday-night lineup for PBS.
Dottie’s Dumps, Jill’s Joints, Annette’s Adobes,
and then . . . ta da . . .” Josie took a deep bow before continuing. “
Pigeon’s
Palaces.
Who needs Courtney Castle and her dumb show?”

“Yeah, you’re better than that snob any day of the week,” Annette said enthusiastically. “They should give you a show. And we could all be on it! We’d knock Courtney Castle dead!”

“I’m afraid someone’s beaten you to it.”

The women turned to see who was speaking.

Two men, their regulation police uniforms covered with international orange vests, stood together, arms crossed, serious expressions on their closely shaven faces. Josie recognized one of them. “Mike, did you say something?” she asked Mike Rodney, police officer, son of the island’s police chief, and all-around pain in the ass as far as she was concerned.

“Well, I guess I did, didn’t I, Mark?” he asked the man standing by his side.

“You sure did, Mike. You said—”

But Mike Rodney apparently wanted to offer the information himself.

“I said I was afraid someone had beaten her to it and that’s what I meant.”

“Beaten who to what? What are you talking about?” Josie was pulling the leaves from her hair as she spoke. She was becoming nervous. Mike was an idiot, but she had seen that expression on his face before. “What’s going on? Has something happened?”

“I’ll say something’s happened. Tell them, Mikey.”

That distracted Josie. She had never heard anyone call Mike Rodney “Mikey” and she had known him ever since she came to the island. “Who are you?”

“I’m Mikey’s cousin. My name’s Mark.”

“Mark Rodney?” Josie asked, slightly incredulous.

“Mark Stern. He doesn’t have to have the same last name to be my cousin. Mark’s father is my mother’s brother,” Mike explained. “And don’t call me Mikey,” he told Mark.

“So why are you two here? Why aren’t you out doing crowd control? What’s going on?” Dottie asked.

“We have a bigger problem than crowds,” Mike said.

Mark looked as though he might burst if he didn’t speak up. “Yeah, somebody may have killed Courtney Castle!” he blurted out.

“Killed?”

“Don’t talk to these guys. They’re idiots,” Dottie ordered the women under her breath.

Josie ignored the good advice. “Where? When? Who says?”

“He doesn’t know anything. And he should learn to keep his mouth shut,” Mike answered, scowling at his cousin.

Despite the seriousness of Mark’s statement, Josie found that she wanted to smile. Mike sounded just like his father. “Where is your father?” she asked. “Is he with the body?”

“There is no body,” Mike answered.

“I thought you said Courtney had been murdered.” Jill joined the conversation.

“It’s all those rice cakes,” Dottie said. “She just wasted away. Poor thing.”

“Mike, what the hell is going on?” Josie asked. This was turning into a very long lunch hour. Little had been accomplished this morning. They needed to make up for it this afternoon. “We have to get back to work. Has there been a murder or not?”

“That Bobby Valentine . . . he’s the show’s director, right?”

“He’s the producer,” Josie said. “What about him?”

“He found a note in Courtney Castle’s dressing room.”

“And it said she was killed!” Mark sounded excited.

“What is this? Some sort of game?” Dottie asked.

“We really don’t have time for this!” Josie insisted. “Do you think you could start at the beginning? What exactly did the note say?”

“And did anyone think to ask Courtney who killed her?” Dottie’s question was sarcastic.

“The note said ‘Kill Courtney Castle,’ ” Mike answered. “And Courtney Castle has disappeared.”

“Disappeared? You mean she’s just vanished?” Annette asked.

“How could she have disappeared?” Josie added.

“She’s not in her trailer, which is where her producer says she should be. And she’s not anywhere on the property,” Mike answered seriously.

“So maybe she went for a drive,” Josie suggested.

“Her truck is still parked out front,” Mark explained.

That diverted Josie. “Since when does she drive a truck? What happened to the silver Porsche?”

“Apparently she drives a truck for the show—” Mike began.

“You mean that truck is just a prop?”

“I don’t know what you’d call it. I just know what that Valentine guy told us. She came in the truck, and if the truck is still here, she is, too.”

“You just said she isn’t here,” Dottie reminded him.

“Or maybe she hasn’t left of her own accord,” Jill suggested, lowering her voice and opening her eyes wide. “Maybe someone killed her and took the body away.”

“Nope. Not a chance. We’ve had a police line around the block since early this morning. No way anyone got through with Courtney Castle—or with her body. Dad is double-checking with all the guys, but I can tell you that our line was—and is—impenetrable.”

“And Mikey . . . Mike . . . and I have searched every square inch of this property as well as all the vans and trucks out front. She’s not here,” Mark asserted.

“Then she’s not dead,” Josie suggested.

“Yeah, it’s a hot day. Maybe she went for a swim,” Dottie said.

“Or maybe she got into a boat and rowed off for a bit,” Annette said.

“Yeah, there have been lots of kayakers around all morning. Maybe that’s what she did,” Jill added.

Josie knew they were trying to be helpful, but she was aware of the logistics of what the women were suggesting. “You’re sure she didn’t drive away or go for a jog on the street? She loves attention. That’s just the type of thing she would do.”

“Nope. If she left the property, she did it back here.” Mike Rodney had a grin on his face.

“You mean she had to pass us if she left,” Dottie said slowly, folding her arms across her ample chest.

“When did this happen?” Josie asked loudly. “How can we possibly know where Courtney might or might not have been?”

“We . . .” Bobby Valentine appeared in the open doorway at the back of the house, his appearance in uncharacteristic disarray. His hair was standing on end, his shirttail half in and half out of his slacks. But he was, as usual, clutching his cell phone.

“Let this guy tell you,” Mike continued, waving the producer over.

“Have you found her?” Bobby Valentine asked immediately, putting his hand over the mouthpiece, his face brightening at the possibility.

“No—”

“Nope, not yet.” Bobby Valentine relayed the message to his unseen caller. “Gotta go. I’ll keep you informed.” He flipped off his phone. “So did they see her?” he asked the police officers.

“Why should we have seen her?” Josie asked.

“You see a helicopter around here?” Mike asked. “Because she either left by air or walked by you girls.”

“Maybe she walked by and swam off during a time when no one was here,” Dottie suggested.

Josie thought she knew what was coming.

“You girls were working back here taking down the deck and marking out the . . . whatever it is that you’re all marking out, right?” Mark asked.

“We’re not girls,” Josie stated flatly.

“Ms. Pigeon is one of those women’s libbers,” Mike said sarcastically. “She doesn’t like the term
girls
. Call them women.”

“Courtney is the same way,” Bobby Valentine said, ending that part of the conversation.

“So tell us,
women.
Was there ever a time when you were all out of the backyard?”

“This morning—” Dottie began.

“Let’s pin it down a bit more,” Mike said. “Was there ever a time when fewer than two of you were back here after Courtney ended her opening interview with Josie?”

The women looked at one another.

“I don’t know about my crew, but I would have to think about that for a minute or two,” Josie said very slowly.

“Damn right,” Dottie agreed.

Annette looked up. “I don’t know about everyone else, but I was back here the entire time. I . . . I watched Courtney interview Josie and then came right back here. Dottie and Jill were almost finished marking the new foundation out. And I’ve been back here since then.”

“The three of you have been here since then. Is that what you’re saying?”

“I—” Jill began.

“No, that’s not it at all. I was here all the time. Everyone else came and went and did . . . well, they did whatever they had to do,” Annette explained haltingly.

“Did Courtney come back here?” Bobby Valentine asked.

“No.” Annette answered slowly. “I don’t think so.” She glanced at the others. “I really don’t think so.”

Josie frowned. “You would remember if she’d been here though, don’t you think?” After all, Annette seemed to be so fascinated by Courtney. Surely she would remember the last time she’d seen her.

“Yes. Of course.”

“And I came back to get something from my toolbox and I don’t remember seeing you,” Josie continued.

“I saw you,” Annette said quickly. “I was working over there.” She waved to the left. “You just didn’t see me.”

“Oh, I guess you’re right.”

“You didn’t look around or anything. I figured you were just thinking and didn’t want to bother you,” Annette explained.

“What about the rest of you?” Bobby Valentine asked. “Did anyone else see Courtney?”

“No.” Jill was brief.

“Definitely not,” Dottie said with emphasis.

“And you’re saying no one was alone back here. And you’re sure of that?” Mike asked Annette.

“Yes.”

“So where did she go?” Mark asked.

“And who wrote the note about killing her?” Mike added.

Josie took a deep breath and glanced at her crew. Was one of these women the answer to those questions?