Remodeled to Death

by Valerie Wolzien

  “Investigation?” Jed repeated, looking at his wife. “Hon, you’re going to be pretty busy if we’re to get this house back in order.”

  “I know. Don’t worry,” Susan insisted as Jed returned to the third floor. She walked Brett to the front door. “It sounds as if I’m going to be talking with a lot of contractors. I may as well check out Cory Construction at the same time, don’t you think?”

  Brett gave her a stern look. “I suppose this is my own fault. I should never have come over here today. There’s probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for that piece of paper—and it may have nothing to do with the murder.”

  Susan didn’t say anything. Brett assumed that she was going to leap into all this. But actually she was torn. For the first time in recent years she didn’t want to get involved in a murder investigation. This was her only month not being a mother in years and she deserved a vacation. On the other hand, since she was going to be calling half the contractors in Connecticut, she might as well check Cory Construction. “I’ll let you know if I find out anything” was all she said.

  And, she reminded herself, watching the police car back out of the driveway, I didn’t actually promise anything. She was heading into the house to make her calls when Jerry Gordon’s car pulled up. Three doors opened and Jerry and his son got out. Kathleen struggled more slowly to slide her large stomach through the space a designer in Detroit had assumed was more than adequate for exiting an automobile.

  Susan smiled and waved. “Hi. What’s that you’ve got in your hand, Ba—Alex?” Susan had almost called the child by his nickname. In preparation for his entrance into kindergarten in only a few more weeks, Bananas was insisting on being called by his given name.

  “It’s a book,” he explained solemnly. “I’m learning to read. Babies,” he continued, “can’t read.”

  “That’s true,” Susan agreed, equally serious. “You know what else they can’t do? They can’t play with big dogs like Clue.”

  “But I can!” The boy beamed.

  “I wish you would. She’s been penned in the backyard for a long time. She’ll be thrilled to see you.”

  “Why don’t you and I visit the golden monster?” Jerry suggested to his son. “And then we’ll go see what Jed was talking about on the phone.”

  Alex turned to his mother and handed her his book. “You better keep this for me. Sometimes Clue likes to chew on paper.”

  “I’d be happy to,” Kathleen said, taking the book and putting it in her purse. “And then I think I’d better sit down. We’ll be in the kitchen if you—”

  “No, we’ll be in the study,” Susan interrupted.

  Kathleen raised her eyebrows.

  “You’ll understand when you see the kitchen,” Susan explained.

  “You’re going to give me the grand tour, aren’t you?”

  “Follow me.”

  Fifteen minutes later the women were splitting a bottle of seltzer around Jed’s desk. It had taken a few minutes longer than Susan would have expected to show Kathleen around. The plumber, who had done a small job for the Gordons last year, remembered Kathleen well and the two of them had exchanged greetings and family news while Jed glowered in the background. “Jed seems to be having trouble with all this,” Kathleen commented, taking a swig of water.

  “He doesn’t like crisis …”

  “Who does? You know,” Kathleen continued, “maybe the two of you should move to a hotel for a few days. You could stay in my guest room, but you’ll have to move out as soon as I go into labor.”

  “Your mom is coming right away?”

  “She has her bags packed and waiting by the door—as she calls and tells me every single morning. Actually, she keeps offering to come up right away. I know Ban—Alex would love it, but I’m afraid she would drive me crazy.”

  “The last couple of weeks are the hardest part of being pregnant.”

  “And my last two weeks are now the last four weeks,” Kathleen said ruefully, getting up awkwardly and stretching out her back. “I’ll be back in a second.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “The bathroom. Where else?”

  “There’s no running water. Don’t flush.”

  “You know,” Kathleen said, walking out the door, “you really should consider moving to a hotel for a day or two.”

  Susan nodded, pulled the Yellow Pages toward her, and started looking up the numbers of the companies Jed had given her. Kathleen was back almost immediately. “You don’t have any power either,” she announced.

  “The electricity was turned off by the plumbers— Hello, is this Connecticut Contracting?” she interrupted herself and spoke into the phone.

  Kathleen picked up a magazine and skimmed through it while Susan explained the situation to the person on the other end of the line. “I have an idea,” she announced when Susan was finished.

  “What?”

  “Since you’re obviously going to have to pretty much start from scratch on the bathrooms, why don’t you remodel? Maybe something like this would be nice.” She held up a two-page spread displaying an elaborately decorated bath.

  Susan took the publication and studied it. “This looks more like your house than mine, but, you know, I’ve always wanted an all-white bathroom. And I’ve been thinking the same thing: Since we’re going to have to replace the tubs in both rooms and the toilet—”

  “Commode,” Kathleen corrected her. “That’s what plumbers call it. Or w.c. for water closet. For some reason they don’t like using the t word.”

  “Okay. The commode is cracked in one bathroom and more than half of the tiles on the walls and floors are going to have to be replaced in both rooms.” The lights over the desk flickered on. “Hey, look at that. We have power. Can water be far behind?”

  “Maybe sooner than you think,” Jerry said, entering the room and sitting down next to his wife. “It may not get above the first floor, but you’ll have running water in the kitchen and the half-bath on the first floor—and in the basement. At least that’s what they’re working on up there.” He pointed to the ceiling.

  Susan looked up from a photograph of a bathroom that was mirrored on the ceiling as well as on all four walls. “Do you think anyone ever brushes their teeth in a room like this?”

  “Only if they have live-in help,” Kathleen answered. “Soap scum isn’t an integral part of the designer look.”

  “I have an idea,” Jed said, joining the group. “Why don’t we just copy that design for both baths on the second floor—and we won’t connect the water so no one can use them. They’ll always look perfect. And if we don’t have water, maybe we can claim that we’re just redecorating, not remodeling.”

  “What difference would that make?”

  “Then we wouldn’t have to worry about applying for permits and inspections,” Jed explained.

  “And you wouldn’t have to worry about who replaces Simon Fairweather,” Jerry added. “You should have heard what they were saying upstairs.”

  “What?” Susan asked.

  “You know how people talk.…” Jed began.

  “They were saying that someone from a contracting company in town was threatening to murder Simon Fairweather,” Jerry added.

  “Something called Cory Construction. Were they on the list that I gave you?” Jed said to his wife.

  “Not yet,” she muttered, more to herself than to anyone in the room. “Are you going to close that window now that the air-conditioning is back on?” she added to her husband, who had turned his back to the rest of the room.

  “Sure, but that isn’t what I was doing. I was wondering why there’s another plumbing truck pulling into the driveway.”

  FOUR

  “Promise me that more plumbers aren’t going to turn up on the doorstep.”

  Susan rubbed her eyes. “If they are, they’re going to be waiting outside until tomorrow morning. I’m taking Clue for a quick trip around the block and then locking up for the night.… Yo
u’re sure it’s okay if we turn on the water in the bath down here? It won’t back up the pipes and leak out of the ceiling—or anything horrible like that?” she asked her husband as she sorted through the magazines and sheets of paper on the desk in front of her.

  “Positive. The men explained everything to me before they left just now.” Susan wondered exactly how much this day’s work was going to cost them, but she decided now wasn’t the time to ask. “You don’t have a thing to worry about. They said we can even use the dishwasher and the washing machine in the basement.”

  “I didn’t know that ‘we’ did the laundry,” Susan said. She was feeling a little cranky. Their month alone certainly wasn’t beginning the way she had imagined it would. Now, instead of showering à deux, she could do the laundry alone. So much for change. “Do you want to walk around the block with me?”

  “Sure. And you can tell me what you’ve been doing for the past few hours.”

  “The same thing I’m going to be doing for a few more hours.”

  “You’re kidding! It’s been a long day. Aren’t you going to bed?”

  “I want to make sure that everything’s ready for the contractor tomorrow.”

  “You found someone? Susan, that’s great! Of course, I don’t suppose he can start right away.”

  “It’s possible,” she said quietly. “He had a job planned that was recently canceled or something.”

  “Well, anything you can do to speed it along would be great. It’s going to be difficult living here with just the two of us, but think what it’ll be like if we don’t get everything fixed by the time the kids get home.”

  Susan didn’t want to consider that thought for even a moment. As she got up from the desk, the phone rang.

  “Who could be calling this late?” Jed asked irritably.

  “It’s probably Kathleen. I don’t suppose you could walk the dog.…”

  Jed smiled. “Sure. It’s a beautiful night. We’ll both enjoy it—unless we meet that monster from over on Chestnut.”

  “Jed! How can you call him a monster?”

  “He’s a menace. The neighborhood Lothario. And I feel like an idiot being followed around by a horny poodle.”

  Susan just laughed and answered the phone. As she had expected it was Kathleen, who wasted no time in coming to the point.

  “Did you get them?”

  “Yes. I couldn’t believe it,” Susan answered.

  “Do you have time to tell me what happened?”

  “Wait a sec. Jed’s just walking out the door with Clue.” Susan paused for a moment after the door had been slammed by her husband. “I’m not sure he’d be thrilled if he knew why I called Cory Construction almost immediately.”

  “Probably not.”

  “If they’re awful, I’ll pay them off and find someone else. It won’t be the first time I’ve done it,” Susan explained, remembering the two plumbers that afternoon.

  “But you do know something about them, don’t you?”

  “Not much. Just what they told me, in fact.”

  “What did they tell you?”

  “Well, it took a while to get hold of them. Jed and I have both spent a lot of the day leaving messages on various answering machines and voice mails. Cory Construction has a particularly short tape or their machine isn’t working properly or something. It took three calls to leave the entire message. But they called back promptly—maybe because I said we were looking for a company to work on a major renovation project.”

  “Good idea.”

  “I’ve done this before, remember? And it doesn’t take a genius to realize that the bigger the job, the more profit there is for the contractor.”

  “So what did Cory Construction say?”

  “The man who returned my calls is named Ken Cory. It’s his company and he’s also a carpenter. I think that’s a good sign, don’t you? I mean, hands-on experience is awfully important.”

  “What did he say?” Kathleen persisted.

  “Well, I explained what had happened here. At least the damage I can see. I’m a little unclear about the main drainpipe breaking—or cracking or leaking or whatever—that caused all this. So I told him about the walls and the toilets and the third-floor half-bath, and that I was thinking that we should go ahead and remodel all the bathrooms while we’re at it.”

  “Could you hear the drooling over the phone?”

  “I know. It does sound a bit like I’m trying to eliminate our life’s savings, doesn’t it? But it’s the truth. And then Ken—he asked me to call him Ken—said that the job they had been about to begin had just been canceled. The couple decided they wanted a divorce more than a gourmet kitchen, apparently. So it’s possible that he could start immediately. He said he’d be here first thing in the morning to talk about it.”

  “Fast work.”

  “Do you think it could be … whatchamacallit … kismet? You know, something that was meant to be.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Susan, if I know you, you’re sitting someplace surrounded by magazines and floor plans.”

  “Sure, but—”

  “And you’re probably thinking just as much about Simon Fairweather’s murder and what sort of connection it has to Cory Construction. What happened to that nice, selfish month you’ve been planning for Jed and yourself? And which you deserve after over twenty years of parenting, I might add.”

  “I’m not giving it up.”

  “So you’re not planning to hire Cory Construction to fix your house and beginning investigating the murder at the same time.”

  “Not at all. I only called Cory Construction because Brett asked me to.” Susan heard how defensive she sounded. “Kath, I know you’re only thinking of me …”

  “And of your house and of your marriage. Susan, does Jed know about the note found on Simon Fairweather’s desk?”

  “No, but that note isn’t why Ken Cory is coming over tomorrow morning. It’s because he’s free to start work immediately. And Ken Cory is a carpenter as well as the owner of the business,” Susan reminded her.

  “Is this the way you hired the company that remodeled your kitchen? Or the company that added the laundry room to your basement?”

  “No, but neither of those jobs was an emergency,” Susan reminded her, feeling she had the upper hand here. “Kath, there’s no way to shower in this house now. We only have a half-bathroom working. Even if Simon Fairweather hadn’t been murdered, I wouldn’t have the luxury of waiting to choose the perfect company. I may not even have the chance to pick out the perfect tiles and bathtubs. Although I was thinking of a whirlpool and a separate shower in the master bath like you have. Do you use the whirlpool a lot?”

  “Not recently. I can’t get in and out of the tub without risking a fall. I’m sticking to showers until little what’s-her-name is born.”

  “No wonder my decision to hire Cory Construction is bugging you. After all, I took almost twelve hours to hire a contractor—you haven’t managed to find a name for your daughter and you’ve had six months.”

  “Almost seven since the amniocentesis, actually,” Kathleen said. “But I don’t want the poor thing to end up with some sort of silly nickname like Bananas. Do you know, I’m not even sure why we started calling him that!”

  “Well, it’s a mistake that he seems to be having no trouble correcting. That’s one determined kid you’ve got there,” Susan said.

  “True. I hate to rub it in, but I have to go to the bathroom—and it’s getting late for us pregnant people. Why don’t I stop over early tomorrow to see what you’re thinking about doing to the bathrooms?”

  “Great. Sleep well.”

  “Ha!”

  It was Kathleen’s final word for the day. Susan hung up and got back to her planning. She wanted to have at least a general idea of what she was aiming for to show Ken Cory tomorrow morning. The third-floor bathroom, tucked under the attic eaves, was a piece of
cake. A new floor, possibly of nice, neat white tiles, and then the old white porcelain sink and toilet could be replaced with new white porcelain fixtures. Over the years she had thought of making the entire attic into a guest room, but first things first. She had to get the two baths on the second floor in working order.

  Pleased with her own sense of order, Susan looked down at the neat drawing lying on the table in front of her. It represented the two bathrooms on the second floor and proved beyond a reasonable doubt that Chrissy’s artistic talent hadn’t been inherited from her mother. She was so involved in her work that she didn’t hear the return of her husband and their dog.

  “What are you doing?”

  She looked up to find her husband leaning over her shoulder. Clue had flung herself in a corner of the room in a canine imitation of Camille. “Long walk,” she commented casually.

  “That damn poodle,” Jed responded before returning to his question. “What are you doing?” he repeated.

  “Trying to figure out exactly what we want in the new bathrooms. We really should take this as the opportunity to get the bathrooms we’ve always wanted, don’t you think?”

  “I thought we had the bathrooms we always wanted—except for the color schemes,” he added quickly, remembering their conversation earlier in the day.

  “Sort of,” Susan said slowly. “But think of it this way, Jed. We have to buy new tiles, bathtubs, and toilets for both rooms, so why not get something interesting.”

  “Like a separate tub and shower in the master bath? Does that say whirlpool?” He pointed at her drawing. “And is that a bidet?”

  “Of course not. A bidet would be an affectation,” Susan said indignantly, taking off her glasses and looking closely at the drawing. “That’s a built-in laundry hamper and there are recessed shelves for storing towels and things.”

  “How about a heater built into the wall while we’re at it?”

  “Good idea! I’m really being practical about this, Jed. And I was thinking about recessed lighting in the ceiling and over the shelves—and also in the tub. It’s so difficult to see properly to shave my legs. Do you think lights in the ceiling over the tub are safe?”