Death at a Premium (12 page)

“Yes, of course. I’d be happy to show you the catalogues I have here, and I do have an excellent list of suppliers’ sites on the Web as well,” Josie added, hoping she could find it. She pushed open the office door and stood back to allow Mrs. Higgins to precede her into the room.

Josie was proud of her office. She felt it exuded the charm of Island Contracting’s best work. Over a dozen little houses stood on a shelf that ringed the room near the ceiling, each one a model of a completed Island Contracting project. Visitors to the office for the first time usually commented favorably on the display. Tilly Higgins didn’t. She headed straight for Josie’s desk at the far end of the room, and much to Josie’s surprise, sat down and flipped on the computer.

Josie rushed to join her. She was barely computer literate herself. It had taken her a long time and a lot of work to feel comfortable keeping records in her hard drive instead of on paper, but the last few years of Island Contracting’s records were stored in the machine that Tilly Higgins was about to use, and she wanted to make sure they were safe.

Mrs. Higgins seemed to recognize Josie’s concerns. “I’m just going to go online and check out some of the Websites Christopher mentioned,” she explained, pulling a small leather-bound notebook from her straw purse and flipping through it. “He gave me two lists,” she added. “One is the Websites, and one is exactly what I need to decide on now, like whirlpools . . .” She found what she was looking for and frowned. “The dear boy included measurements—I don’t suppose they’re exact at this stage of the project, though.”

“You should come as close to his specifications as possible. He may have designed around certain parameters,” Josie suggested, knowing how an inch here and an inch there could add up to disaster.

Tilly sighed and brushed her highlighted hair off her forehead. “Then this may take longer than I had hoped.”

“I really need to get over to the . . . to your house,” Josie stated.

“Oh, there’s no need to stay here with me. Absolutely no need. I’ll be fine. I’ll just do a bit of research, make a preliminary list for Christopher, and . . .” For the first time, Tilly Higgins seemed unsure of herself. “And I could lock up for you.”

Josie didn’t have any reason not to trust this woman, but she had no intention of letting anyone else lock her office. “Why don’t I come back in two or three hours and see how you’re doing. I can lock up if you’re done, and you can give me a copy of the items you’ve picked out.”

“And then you can order them! Of course that’s the way to do it! Christopher has had nothing but good things to say about you, and now I can see why.”

Josie, who had thought some less-than-good things about Christopher, just smiled. “I have my cell phone with me in case you have any questions or want to leave early. The number is taped to the top of the monitor.”

“Good thinking. I’ll just call if I need you.”

“Great,” Josie replied, hoping she would do just that. “And there’s an answering machine that will pick up, so don’t worry about the phone.”

“Of course.” Mrs. Higgins was pounding the keys and scrolling down the screen and didn’t bother to look up. “Or would you like me to pass on your messages?”

“Thanks, but don’t bother. I’ll check them when I get back.” Josie stuck her hands into the pockets of her overalls and frowned. She didn’t feel comfortable leaving Mrs. Higgins there alone, but she didn’t see that she had any choice. If she had been going to object, she should have done so immediately. Sunlight gleamed off the heel of Mrs. Higgins’s silver shoe and Josie had an inspiration. She paused. “It’s possible someone might be stopping by this morning. Carol Birnbaum, my future mother-in-law. She’s going to be remodeling the kitchen in her New York apartment, and she wants to look at some of those catalogues too. I hope you don’t mind sharing them with her.”

“Of course not. I’ll just glance through these Websites and she can have all the time she needs with them,” Tilly offered generously.

“Great. Then I’ll leave you to your task.” Josie’s cell phone was out of her pocket before the office door swung closed behind her, but she waited until she was in her truck before calling Carol to ask for help babysitting the office. Fortunately, Carol was free and willing, and when Josie explained she was in a hurry, cut short her discussion of possible wedding gowns.

Josie parked her truck in front of the Bride’s Secret Bed and Breakfast sign knowing that if Mrs. Higgins were interested in anything other than appliances and fixtures, she would hear about it. She got out, noting that Nic’s purple truck was there, as well as Vicki’s car and the white Volkswagen beetle with the torn-up fender that Mary Ann drove. Assuming Leslie had come with Vicki, her entire crew was on site nice and early.

Unfortunately, the local police seemed to be there as well. Josie walked by the cruiser, parked behind the Dumpster next to the house, and had to work to resist kicking its shiny side. She just hoped that whatever the Rodneys were there for didn’t take too long and didn’t involve arresting anyone. With a long list of the possible reasons going through her mind, she was more than a little surprised when she opened the front door and discovered her crew and Trish Petric sharing coffee, doughnuts, and apparently, a joke together. She was even more surprised when the laughter stopped as soon as she entered the room. It was almost as though they felt guilty to be found enjoying themselves—or uncomfortable about whatever had caused so much mirth. Josie put a smile on her face and tried to ignore whatever was going on.

“Hope you left some coffee for me,” she said, dropping her tool box on the floor. The crash attracted the attention of everyone in the room, and all with the exception of the police officer were quick to assure her that both coffee and doughnuts were available.

“Leslie even bought the little cream and jelly-filled ones that you like so much,” Vicki pointed out.

“That’s great,” Josie said. She looked at Officer Petric. “Why are you here?” she asked.

“I wanted to check out the crime scene again,” Trish Petric answered. “There were a few things that didn’t make any sense to me.”

“What things?” Josie asked, accepting the Styrofoam cup of coffee that Mary Ann offered with a nod.

“That’s police business.” Trish’s answer was abrupt and in striking contrast to her friendly manner a minute before. “And I’ve got to get going. More tourists are arriving every day. I have things to do.” She slipped off the sawhorse she had been perched on and smiled at the group. “Thanks for the snack. I’ll return the favor sometime,” she said.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” Josie spoke up.

“If you don’t have anything better to do.”

Josie waited until they were together on the sidewalk with the door to the house closed behind them, although she was pretty sure her crew was looking out the wide windows at them, before asking her questions. “Why are you here?”

“I told you. I had some questions about the crime scene. I wanted to look at it again.”

“If by the crime scene you mean the place where the body was found, that’s upstairs. You were on the first floor laughing with my crew when I arrived.”

“I don’t know what—if anything—you’re implying. But for your information, I had finished upstairs, and when I came back down I was offered coffee and doughnuts. Being hungry, I accepted. Just what are you objecting to?”

“I’m not objecting. You have every right to do what you’re doing,” Josie answered. “But I have a job to do here, and you’re interfering.”

“I don’t see how that can be true. I made a point of coming here early. You hadn’t even shown up for work. No one on your crew had arrived yet. I . . .”

“How did you get in?” Josie interrupted.

Officer Petric hesitated. “The police department has a key. I assumed you had given it to them . . . to us.”

Josie was sure she had done no such thing, but decided this was something to take up with the Rodneys. “You know this is private property.”

“I know this is a crime scene and that, if the Rodneys thought it was appropriate, they could prevent you and your crew from working here until our investigation is complete.”

Josie had no answer for that so she changed the subject. “You were questioning my crew.”

“In the first place, I wasn’t doing anything of the kind. We were talking, taking a break. I didn’t mention the murder and . . .” She hesitated for just a moment. “And neither did anyone else.”

Josie didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t like this woman being here and talking to her crew, but in truth, she knew she couldn’t do anything about it. She didn’t like this woman talking to her son either, but again, there seemed to be nothing she could do about it, short of ordering Tyler to avoid her. “I have to get to work” was all she said.

“As do I,” Officer Petric answered, “but I may be back.”

“I won’t hold my breath.”

Josie stamped back up the sidewalk knowing she was being irrational and maybe slightly immature. All she was sure of was that this woman irritated the hell out of her and that she didn’t trust her one bit.

FIFTEEN

THE CONTINUING DEMOLITION of the upper floors went smoothly. Walls were torn down, warped flooring torn up, closets that had been jury-rigged into odd corners vanished, leaky radiators were pulled out. Early in the morning a large overflowing Dumpster was taken away; an empty one of equal size was delivered within the hour. The new arrival was filled and ready to go before lunchtime. It wasn’t until they all sat down to their meal that Josie realized they had been too busy to talk about the murder or a possible arrest. But the topic came up before the first hoagie was unwrapped.

Vicki, who to Josie’s knowledge had been working hard ripping up rotten floorboards in the hallway all morning, looked down at her ham and salami on a hard roll and began to sniff. “I can’t believe we’re sitting here eating lunch when Leslie might be arrested any minute now.”

Sitting by her side, Leslie slipped an arm around her shoulder and hugged her. He left a dark handprint on her T-shirt, but they were all so filthy that no one commented—or noticed. “I’m not going to be arrested. I didn’t even know the dead guy. Why the hell would I kill him?”

Mary Ann put down her turkey with mayo on white and looked at him. “I watched this show on Court TV a few nights ago—it was real interesting—all about innocent people who were convicted of crimes they didn’t commit. If it weren’t for new DNA testing, all of them would still be in prison.”

Tears dripped down Vicki’s cheeks and onto her lap.

“Not gonna happen to me. My DNA and that dead guy have yet to meet.” Leslie took a big bite from his overflowing Italian hoagie and grinned, shredded lettuce falling on the floor.

Vicki jerked away from him. “You’re joking around and you should be taking this seriously! You don’t know what prison is like.”

“I don’t, and I’m not going to find out. I didn’t kill anyone. No one is going to arrest me for anything. You don’t have anything to worry about.”

Vicki looked at him and then around the group. “I don’t see how you can be so sure.”

“No one is going to arrest me because I’m gonna figure out who the murderer is.”

Nic looked up from her liverwurst on rye. “Just how will you do that?”

Leslie shrugged. “I don’t know right this minute. But the cops on this island don’t seem all that smart. It shouldn’t be hard to do better than they do.”

Josie swallowed a bite of her egg salad on whole wheat before answering. “You’re right about that. The Rodneys are idiots, and I’m not sure this new woman is a whole lot better.”

“And you’ve solved murders before, so you’ll help me, right?” Leslie continued.

Josie put down her sandwich and looked at him. “How do you know about that?”

“Everyone knows about it. You find a body, you discover the killer—at least that’s what was being said in the hardware store the other day when I went in to pick up some new work gloves.”

“Yeah, and Mary Ann and I heard the same thing at Sullivan’s when we were eating breakfast,” Vicki added, perking up a bit.

“Even Officer Petric mentioned it this morning, although I don’t think she approved. She sort of suggested that we leave the police business to the police, and they would leave the remodeling to us,” Mary Ann explained.

“She didn’t sort of suggest, she flat-out said it,” Vicki added.

“Do you think that’s why she was here?” Josie asked.

Vicki looked puzzled. “I don’t know. She was here when Mary Ann and I arrived.”

“She and Leslie were sitting on the porch talking when we got here,” Mary Ann pointed out.

Leslie picked a thin crescent of hard salami from between the slices of bread and popped it in his mouth. “She was here because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

Leslie took a deep breath, his strong shoulders rising and falling, before answering Josie’s question. “She was here to warn me . . . about speeding. To tell the truth, I find staying under twenty-five miles an hour a little difficult. Trish has pulled me over a few times.”

“A few times?” Mary Ann asked.

“Three.”

“No wonder you’re on a first-name basis with her,” Mary Ann said.

“Yeah. Well, she hasn’t given me a ticket yet. She just came over to tell me that I’ve gotta get rid of my lead foot.”

“She followed you here?” asked Vicki.

“Followed me? I don’t think so. She probably just saw my car out front and decided to stop in.” He grinned. “Some women just can’t seem to get enough of me.”

“Les . . .”

“But I’m faithful to the one woman I love,” he added, moving closer to Vicki and putting his arm around her.

Josie wasn’t about to let the topic die there. “But Mary Ann said that Officer Petric suggested we leave police business to the police, right?”

“Yes, you see, we started talking about the murder— well, we’re all thinking about it, right? And she wouldn’t answer any questions.”

“That’s not true,” Vicki said. “She answered some of our questions. She told us that the autopsy was complete . . .”