Valerie Wolzien - This Old Murder

“She really takes care of us.” Josie glanced over at her son before she continued. “She’s almost like a member of the family, a relative.”

“What do you mean? She’s better than a relative. You and I don’t cook this well!” Tyler said.

Josie realized that his concept of family was limited to the two of them. What would happen if she expanded that concept? What would happen if, after all these years, she called home and explained her side of that last phone call? Her misunderstanding of her mother’s statements? She frowned.

But Tyler’s concerns were more immediate. “Hey, do you want orange juice, beer, milk, or diet soda?”

“Diet soda. Cream soda, if there is any. Or else…” She noticed the tiny flashing light on her answering machine as she spoke. “Did you check for messages when you came in?”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you. That Bobby Valentine called. He said he needed to speak with you. He said it was… uh, urgent.”

Josie glanced at her son. At least he had the grace to look embarrassed. “Urgent, hey?” She sighed. “Did he leave his number?”

“Yeah, it’s the first message. The second was from Sam. He said he was calling to say hello.”

Josie rolled her eyes. It seemed that dinner would have to wait.

Bobby Valentine hadn’t just insisted on talking to her. He had insisted on seeing her. Immediately. And he wouldn’t tell her why. Not, he had said, on the phone. He was in Courtney’s trailer. He needed to see her there. Immediately.

If he hadn’t sounded so worried, she would never have left home without eating. Now, banging on the aluminum door of the trailer, she regretted that decision. If it was so important that he see her, why wasn’t he answering the door?

“For heaven’s sake, shut up! Do you want everyone in the neighborhood to know we’re here?”

Well, if they hadn’t heard her banging, they probably got the point when she screamed. She would have made more noise if she hadn’t been grabbed from behind and pulled toward the darkened trailer.

“What the…?”

“Stop kicking me, damn it!”

The door fell open, smashing into the wall behind it, and Josie and Bobby Valentine fell into the trailer, crashing into furniture and landing in a tangle on the floor.

“Damn. Damn. Damn. What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Me? You attacked me. You asked me to come here and then you attacked me from behind!” Josie rolled away from him as she spoke. “Turn on the lights and tell me why I’m here before I call the police!”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” Bobby Valentine scrambled to his feet and, ignoring his own injunctions about silence, slammed the door, and switched on the overhead light. “Look, damn it! Look!”

He pointed.

She looked. And looked again. “What the hell is that?”

“Courtney…”

“It’s not Courtney.” Josie walked across the floor to the exercise bike. “It’s a wig. Courtney wore a wig?”

He walked over to the mirrored wall and pressed a tiny button she hadn’t noticed before. A door sprang open and a hidden shelf appeared. Three wig stands stood on it. Two had identical Courtney pageboys. One was bald. The third wig was sitting on the seat of the exercise bike, not a strand of hair disturbed by the move.

“You called me here because one of Courtney’s wigs is out of place? I’m missing my dinner for hair?”

“Courtney is dead.”

Josie looked at him, walked over to the wig, and examined it. “There’s no blood on it.” She glanced around the room, relieved by what she didn’t see. “There’s no body.” She looked up at him. “Why do you think she’s dead? And why did you call me here to see this?” She wanted to add one more question. What did Bobby Valentine actually know?

“Courtney is never, ever seen without one of those wigs.”

“You’re telling me you think she’s dead because… because these three wigs are here and she isn’t?”

“I am telling you that if these three wigs are here and she isn’t, she is dead.”

“She wears one in the shower? When she sleeps?”

“No, of course not. But you don’t hear water running, do you?”

“So? Maybe she’s sleeping somewhere. Maybe she’s gone for an evening swim. I can think of a million places she might be.” A wooden canoe in the middle of the house wasn’t one of them.

“You don’t know Courtney. She takes her hair seriously. Very, very seriously. If her wigs are here and she’s not, she’s dead.”

“Maybe she has another one. And she’s at a party someplace wearing it.”

“No. Courtney has had her wigs made by a woman who lives in Queens for longer than I’ve known her. That woman made her three wigs, those three wigs. There’s only one explanation. Courtney is dead.”

“And her wig walked back here?” Josie realized she sounded sarcastic. But he had taken her away from an evening with her son for what seemed like a foolish reason. Now, if he had seen Courtney’s body, like she had… She leaned forward and looked at him. Bobby Valentine was frantic.

Josie made a quick decision, took a deep breath, and plunged in. “You know, don’t you? It’s not just a guess with these wigs and all. You know that she’s dead.”

Bobby Valentine let out a long relieved breath. “Yes. Yes. And… you do, too?”

It was a question. “Yes. I saw her body.”

“Thank heavens!” The relief was visible. His entire body seemed to relax. “So where is she?”

“What?”

“Where is Courtney? Where is her body?”

"YOU DON’T KNOW where Courtney’s body is?” Josie asked.

“Not at this minute. No. Do you?”

“No.” Josie frowned. “When was the last time you saw her?”

“The day before yesterday.”

“In the canoe?”

“Canoe? What canoe?” Bobby Valentine grabbed her shoulders. “Did you toss her in the bay, for God’s sake?”

“Let go of me!” Josie pulled back and heard the sound of her shirt ripping. “Let go!”

“What the hell is going on?”

“I-”

“He-”

“Sam, what are you doing? Stop that!” As the words slipped out, Josie realized exactly what Sam was doing. He was, to her complete amazement, punching Bobby Valentine in the nose.

“Josie, call the police,” he shouted back.

“Damn it! Would you please stop hitting me?” Bobby Valentine, the younger and clearly stronger man, pulled himself free and started slugging back.

Josie, in a panic, grabbed the first thing her hand met and threw it at the two men. There was a crash and then an incredible smell filled the air. But the fighting stopped.

Sam was leaning against one wall of the trailer, breathing heavily. Bobby Valentine stood in the middle of the floor, fists clenched, eyes flashing, and nose running. “What did you do?” he asked Josie.

“Yeah, what was that?”

The two men were looking at her as though she had done something wrong!

“I…” Josie looked down at the floor. She had broken a large bottle of some sort of smelly oil. “Bath oil?”

“Probably massage oil,” Bobby Valentine explained. “The bath oil would be in the bathroom. Courtney believed that daily massages kept her sane. At least that’s what she said. There’s a portable massage table stashed under the couch.”

“Daily massages?” Sam repeated the words as he rubbed his knuckles.

Josie thought it was time to get back to the point. “Why did you come in here and start punching?” It was so unlike Sam to do something like that.

“Why do you think? I walked in and this man was grabbing at you. Look, your shirt is in shreds! What did you expect me to do?”