This Old Murder by Valerie Wolzien Read Free Book Online

words.
    “She’s a famous person. Sometimes famous people attract oddballs,” Mike said.
    “I don’t think this is anyone’s business, Mike,” his father warned.
    Josie realized that Mike was explaining more than his father wanted him to. “You mean Bobby Valentine called you?” she asked.
    “Sure did.”
    “To ask for police protection for Courtney Castle.”
    “To watch out for things while the show is in town,” his father explained. “Crowd control.”
    “Crowd control? What crowds?”
    “According to this Bobby Valentine, there’s always a crowd around wherever the show is taped.”
    “You’re kidding.”
    “I gather you didn’t know anything about this,” Sam said.
    “No one mentioned it to me,” Josie admitted. “But I don’t see why it should be much of a problem.”
    “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Sam said. “A bunch of spectators could disrupt deliveries if they’re kept in the street, to say nothing of what might happen if they’re allowed to wander around on the property. It sounds to me like a police line of some sort is an excellent idea.”
    “Does this mean you’re planning on hanging that yellow police tape around my work site?”
    “No, that’s just the point,” Mike said proudly. “Courtney Castle doesn’t want anyone to see a police line. We’re going to prevent curious people from getting anywhere near your work. The entire block will be cordoned off.”
    Josie could just imagine what Cheryl’s husband would have to say about that. “What about the neighbors? The other people who live on the street?”
    “Right now we’re working on having passes printed up,” Mike explained.
    “But . . .” Josie began.
    “How large an area is going to be cordoned off?” Sam asked. “Surely the whole block is a bit excessive.”
    “We will do whatever Miss Courtney Castle asks,” the chief of police answered.
    Josie took another step backward. A fatal one for the Beaujolais, as it turned out. Glass and wine flew in all directions, drenching Josie’s overalls as well as Sam’s chinos and loafers. The ensuing cleanup didn’t interest the Rodneys, and claiming urgent police business, they stepped over the mess and left. Sam called to an employee to bring a mop and he led Josie to his small office in the rear of the store. He seated her in his desk chair and grabbed a wineglass from a nearby shelf. “Red or white?”
    “I’ll stick with red,” she answered, glancing down at her stained clothing.
    Sam waited until she’d had time to taste the wine before he asked his first question. “Why do you object to this police line? Even if it’s a bit excessive, it probably won’t be a problem for you.”
    “Ha! Everything about Courtney and her show will be a problem for me!”
    “How can you possibly know that? You’ve just met!”
    “She doesn’t make a good first impression,” Josie answered after a short pause.
    “Meaning?”
    “Sam, you should have been there. She drove up in this hot car—a silver Porsche, for heaven’s sake.”
    “Wow. I wonder if PBS pays for that.”
    Josie couldn’t believe it; he sounded envious. “You know, Sam—”
    “It doesn’t matter. Go on. What did she do when she drove up?”
    “She . . . she started to complain about everything immediately. She didn’t like where the Dumpster was located or how we filled it. Ask Jill or Annette or Dottie. They all heard her complaining.”
    “I don’t doubt you, Josie, but so what?”
    “I don’t know. It’s just that she bugs me. I’m really beginning to regret agreeing to be on television.”
    Sam picked up his full glass, then put it down without drinking. “I think I’ll keep my head clear.”
    Josie didn’t have any such compunction. She drained her glass and stared at the desk before her.
    “We could go out to dinner,” Sam suggested. “Sounds like you need a break. And tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”
    Josie frowned.
    Sam knew what she was thinking.