This Old Murder (18 page)

“More than one show,” Sam said.

“Yes. Well, that says something, too, of course.”

“What?”

“Probably that she managed to blame the lack of success of the earlier shows on something or someone other than herself.”

“Sounds like Courtney hasn’t changed much since she was a kid,” Josie said.

“Well, go on, tell her what else you know,” Sam suggested.

TWENTY-FIVE

"WELL, I DON’T know anything, but I can guess. Both from the situation and from knowing Courtney—”

“You actually know Courtney?” Josie couldn’t help but ask.

“Yes, for a couple of years, in fact, but that’s jumping ahead in the story.”

“Go ahead,” Josie urged.

“As I was saying, those tapes show that someone—or more than one person—was willing to give Courtney a few chances to succeed as an on-air personality. There are three different shows bearing the call letters of the PBS station in Fargo, so someone there was working to find something that would work for her—”

“Just for her?” Sam interrupted with a question. “Doesn’t what you’re saying imply that the . . . on-air personality is solely responsible for the success of the show? Surely the topic, the production, other things I don’t know about, are at least partially responsible?”

“Yes, but what we see in those tapes—and they’re certainly only part of the story—is that Courtney survived and the shows didn’t.”

“And you think that means someone was promoting her, not blaming her for the shows’ lack of success,” Sam said.

“Yes. And then after those three shows, she moved on and tried again. Two more shows with short lives—not terribly surprising if you consider the joke about crewel embroidery she used to open one of them. And then, suddenly, success.”

“When? I only got through the first four tapes—skimming them really. What’s on the last one?” Josie asked.

“The first few shows of
Courtney Castle’s Castles
. A show whose time had come apparently. As far as I know, it was popular from the very moment it went on the air. Of course, remodeling shows have been on for years, but never with a woman in charge. My guess, having lived through a nightmarish remodeling of a loft years and years ago, is that many women believe things in their own home would have been different if a woman had been in charge of the work.” She smiled at Josie. “Well, you probably know more about these things than I do.”

“Island Contracting does get some jobs because the employer or homeowner is a woman and she thinks we’re more likely to listen to her—without putting her down—than some of my male colleagues. And, frankly, it’s true.” Josie glanced over at Sam and blushed. “But that’s not what we’re talking about here. Go on.”

“For whatever reason, the show was a success from the first. Courtney doesn’t know a damn thing about building or remodeling, any more than she did about embroidery or interior decoration or . . .”

“Or making apple chutney?” Josie suggested.

“Lord, maybe she knows more about it than that. Courtney is a dreadful cook. No one who has ever been forced to eat anything she’s cooked would ever suggest a show called
Cooking with Courtney
. She is one of those people who should stick to takeout. Period. But I digress—as I always do,” Sondra said, laughing at herself.

“You were talking about
Courtney Castle’s Castles
,” Sam reminded her.

“What is there to say? It’s been picked up by all the major PBS stations across the country as well as lots of the smaller ones. And it has made her a household name.”

“Are you connected with the show?” Josie asked.

“Not really, but a friend of mine was the original producer of the show.”

“You said he introduced you to Courtney,” Sam prompted.

“Exactly. He gave a big cocktail party the night the show premiered on the New York station. And he introduced her to me.”

“Did you like her?” Josie asked.

“Not really. My friend didn’t say anything about what I did to Courtney. He just said something like I’d like you to meet my good friend Sondra. She practically ignored me. She was—as she always was then—busy sucking up to the important people in the room. She thought I was insignificant and treated me accordingly. I don’t find that a particularly appealing trait.”

“But you got to know her better later on,” Sam said.

“And didn’t like her any better, as you well know. I thought you had retired. Aren’t you supposed to stop asking questions all the time?”

“Sorry. Tell it your own way.”

“Well, as Sam says, I did get to know her better, at first by hearsay and then in person. You see, my friend, her producer, and she had an argument. Well, they had lots of arguments. They argued about everything from the size of her dressing room and staff to the way the show was produced. Eventually he either quit or was fired. The story depends on who is telling it. So I heard every single detail of their feud. And then Courtney came to me and asked me if I would produce her show.”

“Take the place of your friend?”

“Yes, but don’t be horrified. It happens all the time. My friend wouldn’t have cared. He might have thought I was crazy after listening to him enumerate the disadvantages— hell, the miseries—of working with Courtney Castle, but he wouldn’t have held it against me if I’d said yes.”

“Which you didn’t,” Josie guessed.

“No. I’m old enough to let a few mistakes go by. But I did tell her I would work as a consultant on the show for the rest of that season—provide continuity when new employees came and the like. To tell the truth, I don’t know how I let her talk me into it. I knew she was a manipulative little bitch. I should have had more sense.”

“So it didn’t go well.”

“A disaster from the get-go.”

“Why?”

Sondra shook her head, obviously disgusted with herself. “It was stupid. She wanted more airtime. She wanted staff— staff, for heaven’s sake. We’re talking public broadcasting, not network television. There isn’t a lot of extra money to toss around. People send in donations to keep their favorite shows on the air; we owe it to them to be responsible. But Courtney was the star and she wanted to be treated like one. The very second my commitment was over I was out of there. And thrilled to be gone, I can tell you.”

“That’s when Bobby Valentine took over?” Josie asked.

“No, Bobby was there when I was around. How do you know him?”

“He’s the producer on this project,” Josie explained.

“You’re kidding! If you’d asked me, I would have said he’d be long gone before now!”

“Why?”

“Courtney and he were always fighting. When I wasn’t saying no to one of her outrageous, egotistical ideas, he was.”

“These days he’s saying yes,” Josie said. “You should see Courtney’s trailer—makeup table, couches, exercise equipment. It looks like it belongs to a rock star.”

“And Bobby Valentine is her producer? You’re sure?”

Josie nodded. “Yes.”

“Amazing. She must have gotten to him.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“Blackmail!” Josie exclaimed. “She blackmails people, doesn’t she?”

Sam leaned forward. “Does she?” he asked Sondra.

“Not that I know of. She gets what she wants, but she does it by manipulating people. It’s more subtle than blackmail, but just as effective in the long run. And legal.”

“Sounds like Courtney,” Josie said, leaning back in her chair and flinging her napkin down on the table.

“Sam told me you grew up together.”

“Yes.”

“Is that why she chose your company to feature on her show?”

“I . . .” Josie stopped and thought for a moment before answering. “To tell you the truth, I don’t know the answer to that question.”

“She’s nice.”

Sondra had gone off to her fiancé’s house, and Josie and Sam were saying good-bye in the street next to the Island Contracting truck.

“You didn’t expect to like her, did you?”

“No. I always feel inadequate next to your old girlfriends,” she admitted.

“That problem is in your head.”

“I know. But I can’t afford the years of expensive psychotherapy it would take for me to get rid of it,” she added with a grin.

“Good. I like you just the way you are.” He reached out for her. “Do you have to go home?” he asked after a few minutes.

“You know I do. In fact, I should be there now. I don’t want Tyler to worry.”

“I love your son, but I sure wish he weren’t too old for sleepaway camp,” Sam said, giving her one last kiss and opening her truck door for her.

“Maybe next summer we can arrange for him to be a counselor,” Josie said, starting the engine. She took off down the street with a final wave out the window. The island was only seven miles long; in less than ten minutes she was climbing the stairs to her apartment. Tonight the door wasn’t locked and she was surprised to find Tyler sitting on the couch, apparently engrossed in a magazine dedicated to mountain biking.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi yourself, sweetie. Aren’t you up a bit late?” Damn. In less than a dozen words she’d broken two rules of mothering an adolescent: she’d referred to her son by a nickname
and
she had suggested he didn’t know how to take care of himself properly.

However, Tyler either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. “I can sleep late in the morning. I’m on the late shift tomorrow.”

“Good. I’m going to shower and get into bed. I’m beat.”

“Uh, Mom . . .”

She recognized that tone of voice. Something was up. She glanced down at the magazine Tyler still held. “You want to spend your money on a new bike?”

“No, it’s serious, Mom.”

Josie sat down on the couch without another word.

“I . . . Well, I’ve been doing something you’re not going to like . . . and I have to tell you about it because of something I know . . . Oh, hell, just press the play button and see for yourself.”

Apparently she was going to spend the night the way she had spend the evening: watching videos. She leaned back and then sat up straight with a gasp. “Tyler!”

“I know, Mom, we’ll talk in a minute. There’s something here you have to see. There’s a reason.” His voice was pleading.

“It better be a good one. Because, generally speaking, I don’t think watching X-rated videos is a good mother-and-son type of activity. I . . .” The opening credits were more than brief and they were into the meat of the picture in seconds. Josie didn’t know whether to laugh or lecture. Then she sat up. “Do you know who that looks like?”

“It is. Jill Pike. The woman who works for you. Her hair is a little longer, but it is her.” He glanced over at his mother. “We can keep watching, but—”

“You wanted me to see her.”

“Yes. I thought you should know. Considering the disappearance of Courtney and what people in town are saying . . .”

But Josie had other things on her mind. “Tyler, where did you get this video?”

“Well . . .”

“I thought the reason you could work at that place was that it was a family store, that it didn’t carry videos like . . . like this one.” She waved at the now blank TV screen.

“That’s true. Really, Mom.”

“So where did this come from?”

“Well . . .”

Josie had a hard time not smiling; he looked adorably sheepish. “Well what?” she said sternly.

“Both stores are owned by the same person and the videos are ordered together. Nothing of this type is supposed to come into Family Video, but if you ask the delivery guy nicely, he sometimes mixes up the orders.”

“Tyler . . .”

“I didn’t do it, Mom. One of the kids I work with did.”

“The young man who was here last night.”

“Yeah.”

“And you were watching this last night?”

She watched him struggle. Was he going to tell the truth or not?

“No. We watched a different one then. But I saw this one a few days ago.”

Josie was silent for a minute. “I don’t want this type of thing in my house,” she said quietly. “It demeans women and . . . and I just don’t like it.”

“Sorry. I won’t do it again. Mom?”

“What?”

“Are you going to fire her?”

“Jill? Of course not.”

“Did you know about this?”

“No, I had no idea. But she’s a good worker, a good carpenter. I’m glad to have her working for me. I wish I hadn’t seen this, though.”

“Why?”

“Because I have to let her know that I know about it. It’s the only way to keep our relationship honest. And I sure hate to have to bring it up. It will probably hurt her.”

“Yeah, I guess. But I had to let you know, didn’t I?”

“You did. Thank you.” She reached out and ruffled his red hair. “And you know what?”

“No.”

“If I ever find you watching this stuff again, you’re grounded.”

TWENTY-SIX

AS SOON AS she woke up, Josie called Jill. They agreed to meet at the office half an hour before the workday was scheduled to begin. Josie could hear Jill’s nervousness over the phone. She fed the cat, wrote a quick note to Tyler thanking him for showing her the video the night before and reminding him to return it to the store, and started down the steps.

Risa was waiting at the bottom.

“
Cara,
I not sleep last night.”

“What’s wrong?” Josie asked, instantly concerned.

“I think about you and your work and that television show.”

Josie smiled. “I appreciate your concern, Risa, but I really have to go now. I have a meeting before work.”

“Cara . . .”

“We’ll talk tonight.”

“
Cara,
that producer, that Roberto Valentine—”

Josie stopped. “What about him?”

“He was here last night. He was looking for you. He said it was important.”

“Did he say what was important?”

“No, just that he must see you and talk with you. That it was important,” she repeated.

Josie thought for a moment. Did Bobby Valentine know Courtney was dead? Did that mean he knew where the body was located? “Did he say anything, anything at all, that would give you a clue as to what he wanted?”

Risa repeated her statement. “It was important.”

“Well, I’ll be sure I see him as soon as possible. What’s this?” she added as Risa handed her a large paper bag.

“With that man running around talking about important things to say to you, and little Tyler looking so serious and worried, I start to get upset myself. So I bake. I calm down.”

Josie opened the bag and peeked in. “Biscotti! Risa, thank you!”

“I have a bag for Tyler, too. I think you not do much home cooking this season.”

Josie hugged her. “You’re the best, and you know Tyler prefers cooking from your home to anything I might produce. I’ve got to run. Thank you! Thank you!”

Josie got in her truck, started it, and plunged her hand into the bag of biscotti. Her overalls were getting a bit tight, but no sane person would turn down Risa’s cooking. She munched all the way to the office.

Jill was perched on the front porch rail of the office for Island Contracting. Swinging her legs, her long hair moving in the early morning breeze, she didn’t look much older than Tyler. Then Josie remembered the video.

But the face that looked up at her wasn’t that of a naive young woman with nothing on her mind. Josie got the impression that Jill had passed a difficult night.

“Hi.”

Jill’s response was a surprise. “You know, don’t you?”

Josie decided to be honest. “About the films—the tapes— yes, I do. My son and his friend . . .”

“I can guess.” Jill jumped down and slid her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Josie realized for the first time that Jill’s clothing was always a size or two too large. It was, she now realized, an attempt to camouflage a remarkable body. “Do I get two weeks’ severance or doesn’t that apply?”

Josie was taken aback. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re firing me, aren’t you?”

“No, why would I fire you?”

“Because of the video.”

“No way. What you did before you came to Island Contracting is your own business.”

“I lied on my application.”

“Well, yes, but . . .” Josie stopped herself before she admitted that particular activity could be considered an Island Contracting tradition. “You probably thought you had a good reason to,” she finished her sentence.

“But it says on the bottom of the third page of the application that inclusion of inaccurate information is grounds for dismissal.”

“Does that sound like me?” Josie asked, smiling. “It’s just a standardized form.” She thought for a moment. “Maybe I could cover that bit up with Wite-Out.”

Jill’s face brightened and she laughed. “You probably shouldn’t. That would be almost like asking people to lie to you. Don’t you want to know about the people you hire?”

“Sure, but our hiring practices are a bit different from most contractors’. One of the founding principles of Island Contracting is to help people. A lot of people make mistakes, but not a lot are helped to correct them. We do that.”

“Like Dottie.”

“Exactly.”

“But things are different right now.”

“You’re talking about Courtney.”

Jill nodded. “Yes. Let’s face it, as soon as the police find out she was murdered, Dottie will be a prime suspect.”

“You’re right, of course. But no one knows she’s dead.” And Josie hoped she would be able to figure out who the murderer was before anyone did.

“But once the word about my past is out, Dottie won’t be the only suspect. I can just see the headline ‘Porn Queen Suspect in Murder of Courtney Castle.’ ”

“Porn queen?” Josie repeated the phrase.

“Yeah, like Cleopatra, Queen of the Nile, or Elizabeth, Queen of England. I’ve always wondered what royalty had to do with skin flicks.”

Josie was silent.

“You want to know why I did it, right?”

“Look, it’s your business and I don’t want to be nosy, but . . .”

“I did it for the same reason most everyone does. So I could eat and keep a roof over my head and pay my car insurance— and save enough money to learn a trade.

“You see, I wasn’t a good student and even though I graduated from high school, I didn’t have any marketable skills. Hell, I was so stupid, I didn’t even know what a marketable skill was. But I had taken a shop class my last semester of my senior year—I think my adviser stuck me in that because I needed the credit to graduate and he figured I wouldn’t have to know anything to pass that class. But after the first week I was hooked.

“I love everything about being a carpenter, from the way the wood smells and feels to the kick I get out of slamming nails into wood and building something from nothing. Unfortunately, I discovered this love a little late in my education. If I’d been smart, I would have flunked yet another class that semester. Then I could have returned in the fall, taken some classes in carpentry, and gotten some qualifications under my belt. As it was, I discovered that the only qualifications I had were under my shirt. Sorry, bad joke.”

“So you got a job acting in skin flicks,” Josie said, repeating the term Jill had used.

“Well, not at first. But it took me less than a month to learn two things: If I was going to be a carpenter, I needed some formal training and getting trained would take more money than I was making working at the mall. Actually, I was working in a T-shirt shop and it was my boss who suggested I apply for a job at a modeling agency on the other side of town. I knew it wasn’t legit—that they were looking for women to do nude stuff—but I didn’t think much about it. The money was good and I figured I’d do a few films, get the cash to go back to school, and that would be that. The pay was great. I did three of those lousy films and made enough money to live and go to tech school for a year.”

“Was it awful?” Josie asked.

“Making the films?”

“Yes.”

“A little embarrassing at first. But you get used to anything and the films I was in were pretty tame compared to many these days. The problem is that while thinking about my future, I didn’t think about the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“I forgot that those films would be around for a long time, that I would always have to wonder if someone recognized me.”

“Like Tyler. Has it happened before?”

“No. At least, not that I know of. I suppose someone might recognize me and not say anything. You know, not want to admit to watching things like that and all.”

“What you did . . . It wasn’t illegal or anything, was it?”

“No. I wasn’t a minor and what I did was just run-of-the-mill porn, not snuff films or anything horrible like that.”

“So it’s just that they were embarrassing. That’s the only reason you hide the fact that you did them.”

“Look. Be honest. If I had listed star of porn videos:
Ample
Assets
,
Born to Bop,
and
Vegetarian Meat
—”

“What?”

“
Vegetarian Meat.
Apparently the producers were aiming for distribution in the California New Age market.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“Was it . . . um . . . different from the other two?”

“There were some windchimes hanging in the background and we did it on a zafu.”

“A what?”

“It’s this round pillow that people sit on when they meditate—it may be comfortable for that, but for what I was doing, give me the average bed pillow any day of the week. Other than those things, it was same old, same old. You know.” Jill paused. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Would I have hired you if I had known about the movies?” Josie thought about the question. “I can’t think of any reason not to. I mean, you had the qualifications to do the job and the experience.” She paused.

“But things are different now that Courtney’s dead.” Jill spoke what she thought Josie was thinking.

“Does that have anything to do with your films?” She asked a second question when Jill didn’t answer the first. “Did Courtney know about them?”

“She may have.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you know those interviews that Bobby Valentine did yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Twice he referred to me as the photogenic Ms. Pike.”

“But he was filming you.”

“Yes, and he said something about that, too: how much I seemed like someone who was accustomed to being before the camera.”

“Could he have been referring to anything else? Have you done any more legitimate film work?”

“Nope. Not a bit. Those videos and whatever is shown on
Courtney Castle’s Castles
. That’s it. I wondered, you know, if I should tell someone about the films once I heard about the television show.”

“Why?”

“Because once you’re on TV, you’re not exactly the same anonymous person you were before. It did occur to me that I might be recognized.”

“Good point. So you thought about telling me about your past when you heard about Courtney’s show.”

“To be honest, no. I did think about telling either Courtney or Bobby Valentine though. I actually tried to bring up the subject with Courtney. But she said she was too busy to talk. That she had to meet someone.”

“When?” Josie asked, surprised when Jill didn’t continue.

“That morning. The morning she interviewed you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think I may have been the last person to see her alive.”

“Well, not the last person,” Josie said. “The last person to see her alive was her killer.”

“The person she said she had to meet,” Jill said.

“Sounds like it to me,” Josie agreed, wondering just who that person could have been.