This Old Murder

TWENTY-EIGHT

"SO DID COURTNEY visit my parents the way she visited you at the library?” Josie asked.

“That’s a dreadfully imprecise question. Are you asking if she visited as frequently or, possibly, whether or not she talked as intimately to them as she does to me?”

“Both, I guess.”

“Naturally, there’s no way I can compare my visits with those Courtney paid to your parents, but I believe she saw them frequently.”

“And they talked about me.”

“I don’t know that.”

“You said Courtney told you I didn’t have any contact with my family,” Josie reminded her.

“Yes, that was recently, when she and I spoke here on the island. At home, I quite frankly don’t remember her mentioning you or your family. She talked mainly about the television shows she was on. She’s been very successful, you know.”

Josie thought about the tapes she had watched the night before. Not, she knew, so very successful until recently. But she wasn’t there to trash a dead woman. “She did a lot of different types of shows. Did she ask your advice about her career?”

“She asked my advice about everything.” It was obvious that Dr. Van Ripper was proud of this fact.

Through the open doorway Josie could see her crew picking up their tools and preparing to return to work on the addition. They were a great bunch of women, responsible and energetic; she owed it to them to solve this murder before it damaged the lives of innocent people. “Really?” she asked aloud. Talk, talk, talk, she chanted silently.

“Courtney worked very, very hard for her successes. But she made time to return home at least once-and sometimes twice-a year, and we always talked about how her career was going. She had things planned out from the time she graduated from college, you know.”

“Really?” Well, it had worked the last time.

“Yes. There were changes, of course. She had hoped to make it to a network and anchor a newscast, and I think a show like Today or Good Morning America would certainly have benefited from her talent. But she changed her mind after her first job in public television.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I remember how it happened. She had been working out west somewhere for about a year and she spent the first week of her annual vacation in New York City, visiting the networks and deciding if she wanted to work for one of them. She came home quite discouraged.”

“They didn’t want her?”

“Heavens, no! I can’t imagine such a thing!” came the indignant response. “But she was upset by the greed and self-importance she found there… Excuse me?”

“Nothing.” Josie had mumbled something about how it sounded like Courtney would fit right in, but on second thought she decided that silence was best.

“She knew then and there-talking with me in the library reference room-that she would dedicate her life to public broadcasting. She wanted to share herself with the public. That’s the way she put it.”

“Very generous of her.”

Dr. Van Ripper looked up sharply. “You always were jealous of Courtney.”

“I…” Why deny it? Josie just shrugged. “So Courtney decided to work for public broadcasting.”

“Yes, and, as the network of such shows as Masterpiece Theatre and Julia Child’s Kitchen, I certainly thought she was making an excellent decision. It is the correct place for her to be. And that’s important when you choose your career.”

“Definitely.”

Dr. Van Ripper looked around. “You think this is the correct place for a young woman who had all your advantages to end up?”

Josie took a deep breath. Her red hair began to become slightly static; people who knew her would be aware of her rising anger. “Yes, I do. I am a hard worker. I am successful. I have a useful trade and I use it to help people. I am proud of what I do and I believe that anyone would be. Including my family.” The last words came out of her mouth before she had thought them through. But she heard them and realized, surprised, that they might possibly be true. “This is an excellent place for a young woman who was brought up with many advantages to end up,” she concluded, smiling sincerely.

The librarian seemed startled. “Well, perhaps.”

“But let’s get back to Courtney. Did she talk to you about her personal life?”

“You mean men?”

“Yes.”

“No. Of course, I knew she had many admirers, many, many admirers, but she didn’t talk about them. We usually discussed her career.”

Josie frowned. “Do you know a lot about television?”

“Well, no, but I am very interested in the subject, and my sister happens to be very involved in charitable work, and the foundation she runs is a major donor of funds for public television.”

Bingo! She’d known it. Courtney was not the type of person to stay in touch with an elderly librarian just for old times’ sake. She had gotten Naomi Van Ripper to do much of her high school research many years ago. And she had used her-or her connection to her sister-to move up in public television. Suddenly, Josie felt tired and old and, above all, deeply sad. She folded the wrapping over the remainder of her sandwich and got up. “I’m glad we could talk, but I have to get back to work.”

“I hope, Josie, that I have given you something to think about. Perhaps you should reconsider some of your decisions. Your parents are getting old. And there might be other people in town who would be happy to see you.”

“You’ve given me a lot to think about,” Josie replied seriously and honestly. “Thank you very much.”

“Well, I’m glad. I’ll be seeing you around. Courtney invited me to visit the set anytime I please.”

“Do that.” Without another word, Josie turned and walked out of the house, back to her crew.

Tyler was asleep on the couch when Josie entered her apartment. She looked down at him and smiled. He was beginning to grow a beard, but she could still see the little kid he had been. She sat down in the chair across from the couch. Urchin, Tyler’s little brown Burmese cat, jumped into her lap and the two of them stared at her son. After years of worrying about the consequences of raising him without any family other than herself, it was possible that she would present him with grandparents sometime in the near future. Would that make him happy? Improve his life? She had no idea. It was the same problem she’d had for the last seventeen years of motherhood. She never knew if her decisions were right, if what she was doing was good for her son.

She was still deciding whether or not to contact her parents when Tyler’s eyes opened and he smiled at her. “Hi. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I just got here,” Josie lied. “Have you had dinner?”

“No, and I’m starving.” He sat up and stretched. “Is there anything in the house?”

“I don’t know.” She got up and headed over to the refrigerator. The last time she had looked, this morning, there had been a half-gallon of milk, some diet soda, a quart of orange juice, and a full complement of all the things that seemed to grow in there: bottles of catsup and mustard and jars of mayonnaise, jam, and pancake syrup. If she had eggs, she could produce a cheese omelet. Or, perhaps, if that package of hot dogs hadn’t been consumed yet… She pulled open the door, ignoring the magnet and shopping list as they dropped to the floor. “What the…?”

A bright blue casserole sat on the top shelf.

“It’s that tortellini salad you like so much. Risa said she made extra.”

“I don’t know what we’d do without that woman,” Josie said honestly, pulling the casserole from the refrigerator.

“She also sent up bread and a bowl of those great burnt peppers.” Tyler got up and started opening drawers and grabbing silverware.

“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?”