“I did it for the same reason most everyone does. So I could eat and keep a roof over my head and pay my car insurance- and save enough money to learn a trade.

“You see, I wasn’t a good student and even though I graduated from high school, I didn’t have any marketable skills. Hell, I was so stupid, I didn’t even know what a marketable skill was. But I had taken a shop class my last semester of my senior year-I think my adviser stuck me in that because I needed the credit to graduate and he figured I wouldn’t have to know anything to pass that class. But after the first week I was hooked.

“I love everything about being a carpenter, from the way the wood smells and feels to the kick I get out of slamming nails into wood and building something from nothing. Unfortunately, I discovered this love a little late in my education. If I’d been smart, I would have flunked yet another class that semester. Then I could have returned in the fall, taken some classes in carpentry, and gotten some qualifications under my belt. As it was, I discovered that the only qualifications I had were under my shirt. Sorry, bad joke.”

“So you got a job acting in skin flicks,” Josie said, repeating the term Jill had used.

“Well, not at first. But it took me less than a month to learn two things: If I was going to be a carpenter, I needed some formal training and getting trained would take more money than I was making working at the mall. Actually, I was working in a T-shirt shop and it was my boss who suggested I apply for a job at a modeling agency on the other side of town. I knew it wasn’t legit-that they were looking for women to do nude stuff-but I didn’t think much about it. The money was good and I figured I’d do a few films, get the cash to go back to school, and that would be that. The pay was great. I did three of those lousy films and made enough money to live and go to tech school for a year.”

“Was it awful?” Josie asked.

“Making the films?”

“Yes.”

“A little embarrassing at first. But you get used to anything and the films I was in were pretty tame compared to many these days. The problem is that while thinking about my future, I didn’t think about the future.”

“What do you mean?”

“I forgot that those films would be around for a long time, that I would always have to wonder if someone recognized me.”

“Like Tyler. Has it happened before?”

“No. At least, not that I know of. I suppose someone might recognize me and not say anything. You know, not want to admit to watching things like that and all.”

“What you did… It wasn’t illegal or anything, was it?”

“No. I wasn’t a minor and what I did was just run-of-the-mill porn, not snuff films or anything horrible like that.”

“So it’s just that they were embarrassing. That’s the only reason you hide the fact that you did them.”

“Look. Be honest. If I had listed star of porn videos: Ample Assets, Born to Bop, and Vegetarian Meat-”

“What?”

“Vegetarian Meat. Apparently the producers were aiming for distribution in the California New Age market.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what I was told.”

“Was it… um… different from the other two?”

“There were some windchimes hanging in the background and we did it on a zafu.”

“A what?”

“It’s this round pillow that people sit on when they meditate-it may be comfortable for that, but for what I was doing, give me the average bed pillow any day of the week. Other than those things, it was same old, same old. You know.” Jill paused. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

“Would I have hired you if I had known about the movies?” Josie thought about the question. “I can’t think of any reason not to. I mean, you had the qualifications to do the job and the experience.” She paused.

“But things are different now that Courtney’s dead.” Jill spoke what she thought Josie was thinking.

“Does that have anything to do with your films?” She asked a second question when Jill didn’t answer the first. “Did Courtney know about them?”

“She may have.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Well, you know those interviews that Bobby Valentine did yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Twice he referred to me as the photogenic Ms. Pike.”

“But he was filming you.”

“Yes, and he said something about that, too: how much I seemed like someone who was accustomed to being before the camera.”

“Could he have been referring to anything else? Have you done any more legitimate film work?”

“Nope. Not a bit. Those videos and whatever is shown on Courtney Castle’s Castles. That’s it. I wondered, you know, if I should tell someone about the films once I heard about the television show.”

“Why?”

“Because once you’re on TV, you’re not exactly the same anonymous person you were before. It did occur to me that I might be recognized.”

“Good point. So you thought about telling me about your past when you heard about Courtney’s show.”

“To be honest, no. I did think about telling either Courtney or Bobby Valentine though. I actually tried to bring up the subject with Courtney. But she said she was too busy to talk. That she had to meet someone.”

“When?” Josie asked, surprised when Jill didn’t continue.

“That morning. The morning she interviewed you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. In fact, I think I may have been the last person to see her alive.”

“Well, not the last person,” Josie said. “The last person to see her alive was her killer.”

“The person she said she had to meet,” Jill said.

“Sounds like it to me,” Josie agreed, wondering just who that person could have been.

TWENTY-SEVEN

JOSIE SLAMMED HER hammer against the two-by-four, wedging it into place. They’d been working for two hours without a break. It was hot, her arms and shoulders ached, and sweat was pouring down her forehead. She smacked the board one more time, and with a loud crack, the last piece fell into place. The women sighed and then laughed a bit.

“Time for lunch.” Josie pulled a filthy bandanna from her pocket and wiped the sweat off her forehead. “There’s a giant thermos of iced tea in the back of the truck. Anybody want to run to the deli?”

Fifteen minutes later four very tired women were sitting on the dock, large sandwiches on their laps, passing around a giant bag of Chee•tos. There was a gentle breeze off the water, and Josie, busy consuming her year’s allowance of fat in one sitting, took a break, leaned against the silvery wooden rail, and closed her eyes. She’d been up early and then worked hard all morning.

“The world is your oyster, but you’ll never crack it lying on a mattress.”

The words were spoken in a shrill, familiar voice. Josie reached into her past and identified it. Naomi Van Ripper. Josie opened her eyes and looked right into the stern face of the librarian. “We’re on our lunch break,” she said, and then regretted the explanation. She didn’t have to justify her actions-or those of her crew-to anybody.

“Then you are free to speak with me.” It wasn’t a question.

Josie sighed. No reason to be rude. “I suppose.”

“Privately.”

Josie stood up and stretched. “Okay. But I’ll have to eat at the same time.”

Dr. Van Ripper looked down at the food in her lap, and for a horrible moment Josie was afraid politeness was going to force her to offer to share. “Not exactly a healthy repast, is it? Very high-calorie.”

“I burn a lot of calories,” Josie said, standing up for herself. “If you want to speak privately, maybe we’d better go back to the house.”

“It will be filthy, but I suppose that can’t be helped.”

“Remodeling is dirty work.” Josie led the way up the path. She walked briskly and was maliciously pleased to hear Naomi Van Ripper panting with the effort of keeping up.

But once they were inside, the librarian reasserted her dominance. “What is that thing?” she asked, pointing to the well-wrapped sculpture still sitting by the fireplace.