Remodeled to Death

by Valerie Wolzien

  “Here.” Junior held out a small white rectangle of cardboard. “Giuseppe really is the best in the business if you’re looking for something special.”

  Susan took the card and a deep breath. She might as well start now. “How long have you and your uncle been here? I keep finding all these different people in my house,” she added quickly lest he think it was an odd question.

  “About an hour. Uncle Joe likes to see what a job looks like—and yell at the carpenters to make sure they get the corners square and the walls plumb. Makes it easier to lay tile that way.”

  “I heard that your brother worked with you,” Susan began tentatively. “I wonder if he was the tall man that I saw using the phone in the hallway upstairs,” she improvised.

  “I doubt that. Uncle Joe is real big on not getting in the homeowners’ way. His rule is, we don’t use anything of yours. Even if you offer us coffee or something, we’re supposed to turn it down. What we need, we bring in. And if we need to phone someone we go to a pay phone nearby. Besides, I was with my brother until I came out here. Must’ve been someone else.”

  “Probably was,” Susan agreed.

  “I better get back upstairs. Uncle Joe needs to yell at me every fifteen minutes or so or he gets nervous. But he is really the best tile man in the business.” He paused and looked seriously at Susan. “You pick out good tiles and we’ll make great bathrooms for you.”

  As he entered the house, Kyle Barnes and Josie Pigeon came out.

  SIXTEEN

  They were laughing together and Susan was relieved to see that Josie had apparently found an ally on the crew. She walked up to them with a smile on her face.

  “How’s everything going?” she asked casually. “Looks like you’ve found a friend,” she added to Josie.

  “Some of the guys are a little chauvinistic, but a female carpenter isn’t all that unusual these days. They’ll come around,” Kyle said, brushing blond hair off his forehead.

  Josie smiled but didn’t say anything about that. “Ken sent me to look for you. He wants to check out some last-minute details before he begins framing in the far wall of the third-floor bath. Something about the possibility of a tub under the eaves.”

  “I was thinking about that. I’d better go see him,” Susan muttered. “Say,” she added to Kyle, throwing caution to the winds, “were you talking on the phone this morning?”

  He didn’t seem particularly surprised by the question. “No. Were you expecting a call?”

  Susan realized that he assumed she was talking about answering the phone, but there was no reason to elaborate. If he hadn’t been on the phone, he hadn’t been on the phone. “Did you see anyone else on the phone?” she asked.

  “Nope. This is the first time I’ve been off the third floor since I got here this morning—no one’s been working anyplace else. But I’ll ask around, if you’d like me to.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll check it out,” Susan said. “But first it sounds like I’d better go talk with Ken.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Josie approved, nodding her head. “Sometimes if you wait you’ll find that things have been done that need changing. Better to do things right the first time. Saves money. Saves a lot of wear and tear on your nerves. And the crew usually doesn’t like repeating the same work.”

  “Let’s go on up,” Susan said, taking the not-too-subtle hint.

  “And I’d better go find that nail gun,” Kyle said, heading off toward a Cory Construction truck.

  Susan followed Josie into her house, determined to get a look at that particular tool as soon as possible. On her way up the stairs she noticed that the plastic had shifted in the hallway and there were grungy footprints on her light-colored wool carpet.

  Josie noticed her attention. “You might want to get some gaffer’s tape and fasten down the plastic. It’s going to get worse, much worse, before it gets better.”

  “Good idea,” Susan agreed. “What do you think about the design of the third-floor bath?” she asked as they started up the stairs.

  “Not bad. I think I’d add a wraparound vanity. Extend the vanity under the sink across the far wall and under the window. It will unify the room and add countertop space. You’re going to build a master-bedroom suite up there?”

  “Maybe a guest room. Someday,” Susan added.

  “Then that small tub under the eaves would be a nice addition—or maybe a shower stall?”

  “A shower stall. That’s an idea. Maybe one of those all-one-piece things.”

  “Talk it over with Ken Cory. It’s not too late to decide on something like that,” Josie suggested, speeding up slightly.

  “How are you getting along?” Susan asked, matching her pace.

  “I do my work. Don’t worry, they’ll accept me in time.” She chuckled. “Of course, when they do, I’ll have to live with a bunch of old, stale jokes about working women.” She moved aside so that Frankie, carrying a large acetylene torch under his arm, could pass by without smashing it against the wall.

  “Oh, Frankie,” Susan said quickly, feeling that she might as well get it over with, “were you talking on the phone about half an hour or maybe an hour ago?”

  He looked startled. “No, of course not—” he began to protest.

  “We don’t use the phones in the house for personal calls,” Buns interrupted, coming around the corner right behind his assistant. “You don’t have to worry about that. Frankie and I don’t tie up the lines.”

  Frankie smiled and hurried on down the stairs as Buns continued. “Mr. Cory is looking for you. We’ve got the copper laid. Time for you to figure out whether we go up for a shower or down for a tub—or skip it altogether.”

  Susan, completely mystified by this, followed Josie into her attic. “I …” she began, before looking around. “Wow!”

  All of the Henshaws’ personal possessions had been piled up along the far wall and the partition that formed the original half-bath had been removed. The space looked huge. And there was no longer a gaping hole in the floor.

  Ken Cory looked up from where he was kneeling on the floor, slamming nails into a large sheet of plywood. “Susan! I’m glad you’re here. We need a final decision about whether or not you want a tub. And what about adding a skylight or two up here while we’re at it?”

  “A skylight?” Susan took a step back. “I hadn’t even thought of it,” she protested. “But maybe it’s a good idea—”

  “How old’s your roof?” Josie interrupted to ask.

  “My roof?” Susan looked at Josie as though she was surprised to discover herself in possession of such an object.

  “Has the house been reshingled since you moved in?” Josie asked patiently.

  “Yes. Right after we moved in, actually. We had almost no money after the closing, but we realized that it had to be done after the first big storm. It meant that we had to put off decorating the living room.”

  “When was that?” Josie interrupted.

  “Sixteen … no, seventeen years ago.” Susan had trouble with numbers that exceeded the number of her fingers.

  “Then you’ll probably have to shingle sometime in the next five years. You could add a skylight then. There’s no real reason to make that decision now if you don’t want to.”

  “But if you want that tub you’ve mentioned,” Ken prompted.

  “Or maybe a shower?” Susan suggested quietly.

  “That won’t fit under the eaves where we talked about putting one,” Ken said. “And we have some of the copper pipe laid.”

  Susan looked at the line of shiny piping he was indicating. “That’s where the tub would be?”

  Ken nodded.

  “Did you see the square tub that I marked in the American Standard catalog?” Susan asked slowly.

  “It will fit right in there. We could even ask the Joes about adding a tile border around the edge in the same pattern as the floor. That would make it blend right in,” Ken added earnestly.

  “How much wou
ld it cost?”

  “Not all that much. Depending on the extra cost of the tiling and the amount for the tub itself. Maybe a couple of thousand. A fairly small percentage of the entire job.”

  Susan took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s go with it.” She glanced at the frown on Josie’s face. “And how about extending the vanity top across that wall while we’re at it.” She waved to indicate the direction.

  “Great idea!” Ken enthused. “Now if only Kyle would get back here with that nail gun, we could get on with this job.”

  “Where is Art Young today?” Susan asked, looking around.

  “Downstairs. He’s checking on some of our orders at the suppliers who are open on Sunday.”

  “On the phone!” Susan realized immediately that she had said this a little too enthusiastically to make sense.

  But Ken was apparently too busy to notice. “Yup.” His next words disappointed Susan. “He’s got the cellular.”

  “You brought your own phone?”

  “Don’t want to tie up your line,” Ken said, not paying much attention.

  “Was the electrician—Angelo or whatever—here today?” Susan asked.

  “Angelo Ferraro. Nope. Not today. No reason for him to be hanging around billing me for his time unless there’s something for him to do.”

  Susan thought for a moment. “I was expecting a phone call,” she improvised. “I just thought that someone else might have answered the phone.”

  “Or possibly been talking on the line when the call came through,” Josie suggested, kneeling down to examine a heavy pencil mark on the newly laid underflooring.

  “Well, I doubt it. I haven’t used the phone today, but if you want to ask any of the crew, feel free,” Ken offered casually.

  Susan didn’t admit that she had already done so. Josie had pulled a tape measure from the pocket of her overalls and was busy with something else. Susan wondered if she should give Brett a call. Her investigations there had certainly turned up nothing of importance. “What about towel racks up here?” she asked, remembering her other current concern.

  “They were supposed to hang on the sides of the vanity. At least, that’s what I remember of our original discussion,” Ken said. “But if you want a ledge to extend from the sink under the window and across that wall, we could hang the racks from underneath.”

  “Would look nice,” Josie said quietly, flipping the tape back onto its reel.

  “Let’s do that,” Susan agreed quickly. For some reason she had come to trust this young woman.

  “They could be made from pine dowels and holders. They’d blend in and be less expensive than the ones you buy,” Josie added.

  “Great idea,” Ken jumped in. “And every little bit of saving helps.”

  “Good,” Susan agreed, having little idea of what was actually being decided. Had this project escaped her control so soon? Had she ever been in control? “I’d like to show you the diagrams I’ve been working on,” she announced. “I think I should review them with somebody.”

  “I’d be happy to do it,” Josie offered. “Then you’ll be free to explain to Buns and Frankie where to put the pipes for the tub,” she added to Ken.

  “Fine. Why don’t you do it downstairs? It’s going to get pretty noisy up here real soon. Do me a favor and see what’s happened to Kyle. And find Art and tell him I need him.”

  “Sure will.” Josie stood up and followed Susan from the room.

  “I think I left my notes on the patio,” Susan muttered.

  “Why don’t you go get them and I’ll deliver Ken’s messages to Art and Kyle and meet you …”

  “In the kitchen?” Susan suggested. “I could use a cup of coffee. How about you?”

  “Sounds great.”

  “You know the way?”

  “I’ll figure it out.” The charming grin reappeared on Josie’s face. “See you in a few minutes. We have some talking to do.”

  Susan rearranged the plastic runner as she went, remembering Josie’s suggestion about gaffer’s tape. She’d have to get busy with that tonight after the crew left. Right now she just hoped she would find that she’d left her diagram in a place where Clue hadn’t mistaken it for a snack.

  Happily, the diagram was still tucked under the stack of catalogs on her garden bench. She grabbed the entire pile and headed back into the house for coffee.

  The dust from the attic had somehow found a way into her kitchen and she reached for the sponge by the sink to wipe off the English pine table in her kitchen before sitting down.

  But it’s difficult to clean anything without water. She was still wiping away when Josie entered the room. “How do you take your coffee?” she asked, tossing the sponge in the parched sink and reaching for the coffeepot.

  “Black, but I really should be getting mine from the thermos in my truck.”

  “You drive a truck?” Susan asked, momentarily diverted.

  “Notice the cherry-red ’66 Chevy at the end of your driveway? The sweetest truck in the world and it’s all mine,” Josie bragged. “And I’d love a cup of coffee. But we should talk quickly while we’re still alone.”

  “Really?” Susan asked, surprised by this statement. “Is something wrong?”

  “Well, first, and believe me this is completely unprofessional, you’re going to end up spending a fortune on bathrooms that you may not particularly like if you don’t get busy and figure out what you do and don’t want.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it’s like that bathtub. You just spent a lot of money for a tub that you’re not sure you wanted. Right?”

  “ ‘A lot of money’? I thought it was a few thousand dollars.”

  “A couple of thousand here and a couple of thousand there adds up … to a whole lot of money.” Josie looked around the large kitchen at the beautiful handmade cabinets and the European appliances. “Even if you can afford it, it’s foolish to pay for things you don’t care about.”

  “No one would ever mistake us for Donald Trump,” Susan said. “And you’re right. It’s a stupid way to spend money. I know you didn’t say that, but it’s what you meant. Maybe if we go over these plans, I can stick to the decisions I’ve made.”

  “Good. Ken Cory is probably an honest man, but it’s hard to resist making a buck these days. Times are tough.”

  Susan was busy thinking about that “probably” when Josie Pigeon’s next words drove it right out of her mind.

  “Frankie lied about being on the phone. He made a call this morning.”

  “From one of my phones?” Susan asked.

  “From the phone in your bedroom.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I walked into the room while he was making a call.”

  “Did he say anything to you?”

  “No, he didn’t see me. He was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed with his back to the door when I walked in,” Josie explained.

  “Did you overhear what he was talking about?” Susan asked.

  “No. In fact, he was speaking very quietly. Like he was trying to make sure that he wasn’t overheard. It was obvious that he wanted privacy, so I just backed out and closed the door behind me.”

  “That’s interesting,” Susan said noncommittally.

  “We’re going to be in your house all day long for weeks and weeks,” Josie said quietly. “If you’re not comfortable about someone on the crew, it’s going to be more than a little difficult for you.”

  The phone rang before Susan could reply.

  SEVENTEEN

  “And that’s when the phone rang and Jerry told me that Kathleen had given birth to a nine-pound, thirteen-ounce baby girl.”

  “And then?” Brett asked.

  “And then Ken Cory came into the kitchen to ask me whether I wanted the hardware in the tub to match the faucets we had picked out for the third-floor sink and Josie and I never got any privacy again.”

  “So this Josie Pigeon didn’t ask why you wanted to
know about phone calls.”

  “No.” Susan shrugged. “She helped me on the plans for the other two bathrooms and then joined everyone working up in the attic. I called your office and they said you’d be back in an hour, so I went over to the hospital to drop off a gift for Kathleen and then drove on over here.”

  “What sort of gift?” Brett asked. “I mean, I was thinking that maybe I should send something.” He looked embarrassed.

  “I took over champagne and a box of imported chocolate truffles. I know how a woman feels after giving birth.”

  “I was thinking of something for the baby.”

  “Why don’t you take something to Alex? He’s going to need a little ego massage with a new sister, and it might be easier for you to find something for a four-year-old boy than for a newborn.”

  “Who’s Alex?”

  “You know him as Bananas,” Susan said, laughing.

  “Oh. It’s about time he gave up that silly nickname. And that’s a good idea. I’ll buy him a toy.”

  “Kathleen and Jerry don’t want him playing with war toys or play guns,” Susan added.

  “Just because I’m a cop—”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be prejudiced,” Susan said quickly.

  Brett frowned at the notes he had been taking as she spoke. “What do you think about this new carpenter, this Josie Pigeon?”

  “She’s been so helpful,” Susan began. “She offers excellent advice about the bathrooms. I don’t like to sound sexist, but she really seems to think of things that the men don’t.”

  “Do you know where she comes from? Has she worked with Cory Construction before? How did she end up working with them on your project?” Brett interrupted.

  “I … I have no idea,” Susan said.

  “We should probably find out those things before we start trusting her.” Brett looked at Susan expectantly.

  “You want me to find all this out?” she asked slowly.

  “If you would. If you could.”

  “When?”

  “As soon as possible.”