“To eat. Of course.”
Josie was surprised. Basil was a gourmet; this was about the last place she would have expected him to be eating. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. Kristina makes one of my favorite breakfasts. I stop by every few weeks.”
Josie couldn’t wait to see what Basil ordered. “Really? How’s the summer going for you?” As another businessperson dependent on the vagaries of seasonal profits, he would understand that her question translated as “How’s business?”
“Great. But not as interesting as yours. What’s going on with Courtney Castle?”
“She’s disappeared.”
“So I hear. Any idea why?”
“No. What have you heard?” While hosting in any of his restaurants, Basil chatted with the clientele and picked up a lot of information.
Basil leaned across the small table and whispered his answer. “That the police believe you killed her.”
“What garbage! No one even knows if she’s dead!” Josie was outraged enough to stop eating for a moment. “Her producer says she does this all the time.” She was aware of the exaggeration, but she was upset and tired.
“All the time? Makes you wonder how they manage to film all those television shows, doesn’t it?”
Josie recognized sarcasm when she heard it, but the arrival of Basil’s meal distracted her. “What is that?”
He looked down at his own large platter with a smile and picked up his fork. “Fried scrapple. Kristina makes her own. Wonderful.” A small pitcher with light amber liquid was placed by his plate. “Real maple syrup,” he explained. “Wouldn’t touch that stuff,” he added, glancing over at Josie’s pitcher.
She ignored his criticism of her taste buds. “What’s scrapple?”
“One of those foods it’s better not to ask about and just enjoy. Want to try some?” Knife raised, he offered a piece to her.
“No, thanks. What did you hear about Courtney?”
“That the Rodney clan believes you killed her and dumped her in the bay, but they’re too cheap to have the water dredged for the body.”
“So what does that mean? They’re going to wait for it to float to the surface?”
“Well, there’s a gruesome thought for this early in the morning.” However, it didn’t seem to stop him from enjoying his breakfast. “What do you think?” he asked, when he stopped to pick up his mug of tea.
Josie noticed that he had brought his own tea bag. Her bitchier self wondered if he had also insisted on using bottled water. “If you mean do I know what happened to Courtney, the answer is no.”
“There’s a rumor going around that you knew her before you came to the island.”
“Sam told you that?” She felt betrayed.
“Sam? No, I haven’t seen Sam since I placed a wine order with him late last week.” Basil stopped eating for a moment and looked up at Josie. “So it’s true, is it?”
“No…” She stopped. What was the point in lying? Basil, like everyone else on the island, would find out sooner or later. Sam knew. Risa knew. The island’s grapevine was working. Soon everyone would have heard the news. She looked at Basil and saw sympathy in his eyes.
“Yes, it’s true, but I don’t want anyone to know, Basil! My past is my past. It’s private and it doesn’t have anything to do with… whatever is going on here. We… we knew each other when we were kids. We weren’t really friends. We didn’t even like each other.” She pushed her platter away even though there was a piece of French toast left on it. “What did you hear? And who told you?”
“Nothing really specific. There was a young man at Café Portofino last night trying to impress his date. I think he might be one of those horrible young police officers Chief Rodney hires-good-looking, of course, but with less brains than your average turnip. Anyway, throughout most of their meal he was bragging loudly about being on the crime scene. Discussing clues and evidence like some sort of Columbo wanna-be. Among the things he said was that the police thought Courtney had been a victim of foul play. And that you and the members of your crew were possible suspects-”
“Members of my crew? Why the hell would any of them kill Courtney? They didn’t know her well enough to hate her!”
“From what this young kid was saying, the police think that you did,” Basil said.
“Well, it’s not true. I didn’t. Kill her, that is.”
“But you admit to knowing her before she came here?”
Basil had lowered his voice and was leaning across the table. Josie glanced around. It didn’t look to her as though anyone was paying undue attention to their conversation. Three men at the closest table were arguing about a recent fishing trip. A young mother was correcting her small son’s table manners. Another mother was criticizing her teenage daughter’s choice of beach attire. An elderly couple was sharing the local newspaper as they ate breakfast. No one seemed particularly interested in anything the two of them were saying. “Yes. But that was a long time ago. Before Tyler was born. It can’t have anything to do with her… disappearance the other day.”
“I don’t see how you can know that.”
“I haven’t seen her in years and years! I haven’t seen anyone she knows. I didn’t even know that she was doing that damn television show! How could I have anything to do with whatever has happened?”
“Josie, I’m just telling you what I overheard. And I would have even if you hadn’t asked me. Josie, you know what idiots the Rodneys are. It’s almost as though they are genetically programmed to arrest the wrong person. And, in this case, it sounds like the wrong person is you!”
Josie glanced down at her wrist and then up at the clock hanging on the wall.
“You know, doctors do all sorts of implants these days. Maybe you could have something done with a watch.” Josie’s inability to keep watches with her was well known among her friends.
“I’m going to be late for work.”
“You’d better get going. Unless I miss my guess, the Rodneys and their minions are going to be hanging around with questions. And you know how they never believe the answers anyone gives them. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“What?”
“If the reason they believe everyone is dishonest is that they’re basing their judgments on themselves.”
“Yeah.” Josie tossed all the change from one of her overall pockets on the table and waved to the woman behind the counter. “Thanks. That was great-as usual.”
“Bye, Josie. Don’t get yourself arrested!” the woman called out cheerfully.
“Hard to keep a secret on this island,” Basil said knowingly.
“So it seems,” Josie answered, thinking about how, in this case, many secrets were being kept quite successfully-so far. She said good-bye to Basil and hurried out to her truck. Now that she had two visitors to worry about, it seemed even more urgent that she get to work. The drive took less than five minutes and she had not decided who she wanted to see less-the police or Naomi Van Ripper-when she turned onto the street by the bay. And realized she had been wasting time and mental effort. On the front lawn of her work site the chief of police stood talking to the librarian.
Josie parked the truck, took a deep breath, and got out with what she hoped was a welcoming smile on her face.
As she approached, toolbox in hand, the two people stopped talking and turned to look at her. Their expressions did not match her own.
“Is this the woman you knew as Josephine Pigeon?” the chief of police asked without preliminaries.
“I’d know that hair anywhere,” Naomi Van Ripper said. “Josephine, you never returned The Best Guide to Northeastern Colleges to the library!”
“Uh… wouldn’t it be a little out of date by now?”
“How many years has that book been out?” Mike Rodney Senior had a huge grin on his face.
“Since I last saw Josephine. It must have been the early 1980s. Let me think for a second. It was 1983! That book has been overdue for seventeen years, Josephine!”