Valerie Wolzien - This Old Murder

“Hey, cool. Do you think maybe I should give him a menu and he could take it to her, and then she’d try the pizza and like it and start coming here?” Luke asked.

“It’s possible.”

“Hey, I’d better make sure they get good service. And they could order out. I’ll tell them we deliver.”

“You have takeout service?” Sam asked as Luke turned to rush off.

“Well, not for just anybody, Mr. Richardson. But for Courtney Castle… well, that’s different.”

“Things are different for Courtney Castle?” Josie mused, a frown creasing her face.

“I think, Josie, you’d better get used to it.”

IT WAS SUMMER. People who had struggled to earn enough money to buy summer houses at the beach were enjoying those homes. Rental agencies had NOTHING AVAILABLE THIS SEASON signs posted in their windows. Daytrippers from inland lugged tons of paraphernalia to and from the sandy beach, many of them with children in tow. The island had only two main roads that carried most of the vehicles traveling north or south. But a traffic jam at seven-thirty in the morning? Josie was glad she had a mug of coffee propped between her toolbox and a new sweatshirt on the seat by her side. She had gotten up early and left her apartment quickly, pausing only to greet her very sleepy son. She thought there wasn’t a chance she’d be late the first day of taping. But now… The car behind her was honking and she threw an angry glance over her shoulder. Probably some damn tourist rushing to his rented house with a bag of warm doughnuts from the bakery.

“Damn idiot. How the hell does he expect me to move? Maybe I’m supposed to run right over the cars in front of me?” Annoyed, she reached out for her coffee and succeeded in spilling it over the sweatshirt. “Damn!” At least it hadn’t splashed on her new carpenter’s pants. As she raised the mug to her lips, a hand jogging her arm through the window did just that. “What the-?”

“Hey, I’m trying to help you, Miss Pigeon. Thought you might want to get to work.”

Josie looked up from her wet clothing into the eyes of the police chief. “How can I…” she started her question and then realized she was being ungrateful, stupid and ungrateful. The way had been cleared for her truck to move around the block and out of what seemed to be a continuous line of stopped cars.

“You can go right around there and then Mike will lead you through the traffic up to your work site. We don’t want Courtney Castle to think you’re going to make a habit of being late for work.”

“Courtney-”

“Hey, lady, we cleared people out of the way. Are you going to sit there and sulk about your dirty clothes or get going?”

She got going. With any luck, she’d still beat Courtney and Courtney’s crew. But when she drove up to the house, she realized she was wrong. There were, if possible, even more trucks and vans in front of the house than before. Courtney, wearing worn overalls that were tight in places most overalls didn’t even skim, a bright red T-shirt bearing its allegiance to Yale across the chest, immaculate Donna Karan sneakers, a red bandanna around her neck, and a bright red barrette in her thick, shimmering hair, was leaning against the Dumpster she had been so upset about the day before, munching on a rice cracker.

Josie got out of her truck and forced a smile onto her face. “Hi.”

“You’re late.” Courtney didn’t bother to raise her eyes higher than the stains on Josie’s carpenter’s pants.

“There was a traffic jam.” Josie looked around. “I guess you know that. You are the traffic jam.”

“We’ve been here since five. Been taping since six A.M. It doesn’t take very long for word to get out and for crowds to appear. Bobby told the cops that we would need all-day protection, but I guess they assumed we worked a nine-tofive schedule or something.” The stains were still fascinating Courtney.

Josie was acutely aware of the crowd milling around. Of the many things she wanted to say to this woman, none of them were for public consumption. She swallowed. “I don’t understand. I thought the show was about this house, about the job we’re doing on it. How could you get started without us?”

Courtney’s eyes raised to Josie’s face and then drifted off to a space just above her left shoulder.

Bobby Valentine filled the silence. “We have lots of standups to get on tape. Cutaway shots, things like that.”

“You’re not needed for any of that,” Courtney stated, popping the last of her cracker in her mouth and wiping imaginary crumbs off her hands.

“And I’ve had our intern interviewing members of your crew. We need background information. Something for Courtney to say as she introduces everyone. You know, a little snippet about their pasts, how they became carpenters, how they ended up working for Island Contracting.”

“You put that information on television?” Josie asked, looking around.

“Yes. Our audience loves that sort of stuff.”

“But I thought this show was about the remodeling job. What does the background of my workers have to do with anything?”

“Hey, you’re gonna be amazed! Some of these women will get fan letters. Hell, Courtney gets at least a half-dozen marriage proposals a year.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Dottie said, joining them. “She’s what every man wants-blond, sexy, and capable of fixing anything that goes wrong around the house.”

“I’ll bet that young woman with the great body-Jill, I think she said her name was-will be getting fan mail,” Bobby Valentine continued. “She sure fills out a T-shirt nicely.”

Josie saw a frown forming on Courtney’s face. If she had to make a prediction, she’d guess that Jill was going to be receiving limited airtime. “She’s a good carpenter. That’s all I care about. Speaking of which, we’d better get to work.”

“We’re ready for you at the back of the house.” Courtney started in that direction as she spoke.

“What? I was… We were…”

“Our cameraman is set up at the end of the dock.”

Josie was confused. “The show starts out there? I thought-”

“No. We just want to get a few cover shots while the sun is shining on the bay.”

Josie looked down at her pants. “I don’t suppose I have time to go home and change?”

Courtney laughed. “Not only don’t you have time to change, you need to keep those clothes around in case we want shots on either side of this one to match.”

“You mean everyone has to spend the entire series in the clothing they’re wearing today?”

“Nope. But you do need to be wearing one thing in each show. We don’t want to be cutting back and forth between shots and discover some sort of fashion show going on. And if you’re going to be changing your clothing, you’ll have to help us out and remember what you’re wearing when. We don’t have a continuity person on the show. This is public television, remember, not Warner Brothers.”

“But I haven’t even started working and I’m filthy,” Josie protested, looking down at the coffee stains.

“You’re a carpenter. You’re not supposed to be immaculate. I’m going to check my face and I’ll be back in a few minutes, ” Courtney announced, then turned and headed toward the large trailer Josie had visited yesterday.

“Remember, Courtney wears work clothes, too,” Bobby Valentine said aloud. But Courtney’s work clothes had been translated into a fashion statement by the likes of Ralph Lauren. She also wore tons of makeup and had recently had her blond hair done. “So let’s get started.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for Courtney?”

“Nope. We don’t need her for this.”

Josie hurried after him. “I don’t understand. I thought this was an interview. You know, that she was going to ask me questions and I’d answer them, and so on.”