“The tall, dark-haired woman?” Penelope asked.
“Yeah,” Kelly said. “After he attacked her, that’s when my husband stepped in. Got in between that monster and the rest of us.”
“He’s very brave. Please tell him we’re grateful he did that,” Penelope said. “The woman he attacked, she’s my friend.”
Kelly nodded like it was understood. “I have to check on him, then get home to the kids. The doctor ordered more scans but they should be done by now. I want to say goodbye before I go.”
“Of course,” Penelope said. “Good luck to you all.”
Penelope watched her push through the bathroom door and leaned against the cool tiles on the wall. She thought about what it had been like inside the cafe, the pain inflicted, the fear everyone had gone through. The heroes inside and outside who had banded together to help. She cleared her throat then went back out to the waiting room.
“I’m sorry, I can’t give you any more information.” One of the receptionists was speaking to a man in the window, her voice louder than Penelope had noticed earlier.
“Tell me where she is,” the man demanded. Penelope approached from behind, recognizing the windbreaker from earlier in the day.
“Mr. Eames?” Penelope asked.
“It’s lieutenant,” he said sharply.
“How are you feeling?” Penelope said, glancing at the receptionist, whose expression was one of closed off annoyance.
“Wha-, oh, yeah,” Mr. Eames put a hand to the bandage on his head. “Just a scratch. Punk kid didn’t realize how hard my head is, I guess.” He turned his attention back to the woman sitting in the chair behind the window. “Tell me how she’s doing.”
“I’m sorry sir,” the woman said flatly. “Again, if you’re not family, I can’t share information about another patient.”
“I’ve known Sonya for more than thirty years,” Mr. Eames huffed. “That should count for something.”
Penelope eyed the receptionist, who had turned her attention to her monitor. “Do you have a ride home?” she asked Mr. Eames.
Mr. Eames sighed but didn’t answer. He shuffled past Penelope and out the front doors of the medical center into the bright sun of the afternoon.
Chapter 5
“Thanks for picking me up,” Nadia said as she and Penelope entered through the back door and into the kitchen.
“Of course,” Penelope said. “I’m glad the doctor confirmed nothing was broken.” She looked around the familiar room, her safe place, grateful to be home. A sudden weariness overcame her, and she pulled out one of the stools from the counter.
A barrage of high-pitched barking from Arlena’s side of the house and the scraping of tiny toenails on the floor got louder as Zazoo, Arlena’s Bichpoo, scurried into the kitchen. His fluffy white hair bounced comically on his small head and he seemed to smile up at Nadia while tap dancing with excitement.
Arlena came into the kitchen and scooped him up, snuggling him to her cheek. “Hush,” she scolded playfully. “We have company,” she said before setting him back down on the slate tiles. He scurried to his little red bed in the corner and plucked a rawhide chew stick from his pile of toys.
“Let’s have some wine,” Arlena said with a sigh. She moved to the cabinet without waiting to see if she had any takers.
“Can you make mine a vodka gimlet?” Nadia asked. “If you have any vodka on hand.”
Arlena paused while reaching for the wine glasses. “Sure,” she said. “Why not? A change of pace for us, right Pen?” She reached below the counter and pulled out a bottle and a cocktail shaker.
“Limes are in the fridge,” Penelope said, standing up to help.
“Sit,” Arlena insisted. “I got it. You want one too?”
“Absolutely,” Penelope said. “Sounds perfect.”
“I love wine, but this kind of day calls for a real drink,” Nadia said. “Hope I’m not being too forward.”
“Nadia, please,” Arlena said, eyeing the sleek silver shaker. “After what you’ve been through today, ask for whatever you please. Plus, you’re our guest.”
Nadia smiled gratefully. Penelope propped her chin on her palm. She watched Arlena add ice to the shaker, and mix together vodka and lime juice, then expertly pour the same amount into the glasses.
“I didn’t know you were such an accomplished mixologist,” Penelope said with admiration.
“I had practice growing up, mixing cocktails for my mom. Manhattans, mostly. And many years later I played a bartender in a TV pilot that never got picked up. Bottoms Up. Kind of glad that one didn’t see the light of day. But it was a good drink making refresher course.”
“Here’s to method acting, immersing yourself in a role,” Penelope said, raising her glass before taking a sip.
Nadia took a large drag on her cocktail and set the heavy crystal glass back on the counter.
“Did the doctor prescribe any pain meds?” Penelope asked.
“Yeah, but I don’t need them,” Nadia said. “I’m used to physical pain, unfortunately. And pain meds mess with my stomach. I’ll stick to gimlets.”
“What happened was awful, and I’m sorry you got hurt,” Arlena said, becoming serious. She took a large sip. “But we can still have a positive start to our friendship. I know we’re going to have a really good experience on set.”
Penelope gazed at her glass and swirled the pale-green liquid.
“Pen?” Arlena said. “You okay?”
Penelope shook her head and smiled weakly. “Yes, I’ll be fine. It’s just the shock of it, I think. The idea that something so random can happen to anyone, something so life changing, just when you least expect it.”
“Exactly. Unfortunately, things like that are happening every day, all over the world,” Nadia said, nodding in agreement. “It’s hard to wrap your mind around.”
Arlena peered inside the shaker, then mixed another batch of drinks. Penelope felt the edges softening, her taut muscles relaxing, a serene feeling washing over her. Arlena filled their glasses a second time.
“Let’s do something for Sonya,” Arlena said. “She’s a long-time member of our community who could use our support. What do you think, Pen?”
Penelope brightened a bit. “That’s a nice idea. It’s a small business, they probably have insurance, but the rates go up if someone is injured. And if Sonya has to cover herself and her employee’s wages...what happened could end up costing her a lot of money.”
“Okay,” Arlena said with determination. “I’ll approach Sonya and see where we might be able to help. We can’t change what happened, but maybe we can help make it a little less traumatic.”
Penelope’s eyes drooped and she yawned. “Guys, I think I have to lie down for a while. I’m feeling totally wiped out.” She took the last sip from her glass and set it down carefully before sliding off of the stool.
“Me too,” Nadia said. “Adrenaline crashes are the worst. I get them all the time after a big match.”
“I’m sure we could all use a nap,” Arlena agreed.
Penelope yawned again and waved a sleepy goodbye before heading upstairs to her room. She pulled back her comforter and slipped into bed, falling asleep to the murmured conversation in the kitchen below.
Chapter 6
The sound of a car making its way up the driveway woke Penelope. Her mouth tasted bitter and her head was heavy from a sound sleep. The light filtering through the gauzy yellow curtains was warm and fading, and she realized she’d napped away most of the afternoon.
Penelope got up and gazed out over the front lawn and driveway. She was happily surprised to see Joey’s car pulling around the side of the house. Her mind slipped back to the events at Sonya’s and a feeling of uneasiness gripped her. Images of their attacker, and the calm look on the face of the other boy holding the door closed, trapping the hel
pless people inside, made her shudder.
Penelope pulled the band that dangled from the end of her disheveled ponytail. She ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, scraping her short nails against her scalp to shake away her thoughts. She flipped on the light in the adjoining bathroom and rolled her eyes when she saw the red creases from her comforter pressed into her cheek and pools of mascara smudged beneath her eyes. She quickly brushed her teeth and splashed warm water on her face before heading downstairs to greet Joey.
Penelope slipped down the smooth wooden stairs in her bare feet and headed to the kitchen, where she heard the familiar voices of Joy, Arlena, and Nadia, and a woman she didn’t recognize saying hellos and making introductions.
“Penelope, look who’s here,” Arlena said. She’d changed into a pair of jeans and a tight t-shirt, a small strip of tan flat stomach showing just above her waistline. Nadia was perched on the edge of a stool at the counter, rhythmically tapping the countertop with the fingertips of her uninjured arm. Penelope saw she’d removed the bandage on her wrist. The skin was bruised but the swelling had gone down.
“Hi,” Penelope said, her voice still thick with sleep. Out of habit, she hugged Joey tight. He gave her a small squeeze in return.
“Penny,” Joey said, “this is Clarissa Hightower.” He nodded at his new partner, who was half a foot shorter than Joey, but still taller than Penelope.
“Nice to meet you,” Penelope said, sticking out her hand. “I saw you earlier at the...at Sonya’s,” Penelope stammered, then cleared her throat.
Clarissa nodded and shook her hand firmly, then tucked her fingers into the pocket of her jeans. “I’m sorry we didn’t meet under more pleasant circumstances.”
“How is the investigation going? Have you tracked down those boys yet?” Penelope asked. She waved at the stools tucked under the island’s counter as an invitation to sit but Clarissa shook her head.
“I’m afraid we have bad news,” Joey said, then hesitated.
Penelope recognized the expression of dread on his face and she braced herself for his next words.
“The owner of the cafe, Sonya Harper, has passed away.”
The room fell silent for a moment, then Arlena said, “No, that can’t be right. She wasn’t injured in the attack. We saw her afterwards walking out unharmed. She was with her niece Mirabelle.”
Clarissa and Joey exchanged a glance.
“That’s right,” Penelope said. “It was the cook who was injured, but he’s not the owner. His head was bleeding. Not Sonya’s.”
“Yes,” Clarissa said, “one of the cooks, also a family member of Sonya’s, was assaulted by our suspect when he tried to intervene during the altercation. Mirabelle was also assaulted during the incident.”
“Assaulted?” Arlena asked.
“Yes, her forearms sustained some bruising from where our suspect grabbed her when he threw her against the wall. Apparently, she’d gotten between him and Sonya during the attack.”
“Wait, none of what you’re saying explains how Sonya died,” Arlena said. “What happened, did she get assaulted by the kid too?”
“No,” Joey said. “Sonya and Mirabelle went to the hospital together and were released. When they got home, Sonya began experiencing chest pains and collapsed. The paramedics were called, but by the time they arrived, it was too late. She died of a heart attack at home.”
Penelope once again felt the unpleasant closing of her throat, her breath constricting.
“And you still have no idea who they are or why they did this,” Arlena said angrily.
“It was a robbery,” Nadia said. “Greed, pure and simple.”
Joey sighed and dropped his eyes to the floor. “We’re still looking for specific answers. One theory is they hopped a train down at the station and headed out of Glendale. There were three departures shortly after the police arrived on the scene.”
Penelope sat down heavily on one of the stools. “You’re assuming they left together. If it were me, I’d split up from my accomplice. And maybe I wouldn’t take the next train, maybe I’d find a place to hide out downtown until the police activity died down, slip away later.”
“True,” Joey said. “Those are all good points.”
“And,” Penelope said, tapping a finger on her bottom lip, “what if they had disguises in their backpacks, hats, different shirts, something to change into that would throw you off their scent?”
Clarissa folded her arms at her chest and listened to Penelope with interest. “We’ve thought about that too,” she said evenly.
“Are there cameras at the station?” Arlena asked.
Joey nodded. “We’re reviewing the footage now.”
“But if they’ve managed to disguise themselves what good are they?” Arlena asked, deflating a bit.
“We don’t know that they have,” Joey said. “If they thought ahead and planned their attack to coincide with the train departures, Sonya’s might not have been a random target. At least it shows some thought was put into the plan.”
“We realize this is difficult,” Clarissa said with a twinge of exasperation. “Members of your community were involved in a brutal attack. We’d like to go over the events again, to see if there’s anything else you might remember that could help us find these guys.”
“I honestly think I’ve told you everything I remember,” Penelope said.
“Sometimes things surface later,” Clarissa said. “You may remember something out of the blue in a few days that could be helpful.”
“What about cameras on the street?” Penelope said. “There were people on the sidewalk, someone must have filmed what happened on their phone.”
Clarissa nodded. “We’ve put out an alert asking for people to come forward with information and contacted the local news outlets. Did you recognize anyone at the scene, a neighbor or acquaintance that we can contact?”
Penelope thought about the man at the bus stop, then shook her head. “No one I know personally.”
Nadia tapped her foot lightly on the floor.
“We’ve collected security footage from a nearby bank, but it doesn’t appear any cameras were pointed directly at the cafe,” Clarissa said. “Sonya’s doesn’t have an advanced security system, just a simple alarm at the front and back doors, nothing fancy. Our techs are searching for the suspects by filing through whatever sidewalk footage we’ve been able to obtain.”
Penelope thought about downtown Glendale, its quaint old architecture and historic buildings. She knew there weren’t many cameras, and until now she didn’t think there was a need for them. “So, if they didn’t walk by and look directly into the bank camera...”
“Or the train stations...exactly,” Clarissa said. “Plus, with the farmers market in full swing on one side of town, and people heading to the park on the other, that’s a lot of faces to look through.”
“They should be able to pick out two boys carrying hockey sticks pretty quickly. Maybe they knew how to avoid being caught on tape,” Arlena said.
“The one stick was left at the scene in the kitchen,” Joey said. “We haven’t located the second one, but it will probably end up in a dumpster somewhere. Penny, did either of them have any distinguishing features? Scars, a tattoo, a limp, anything like that?”
Penelope thought for a moment, picturing their faces, the one on the patio’s expression of twisted rage as he yelled at the patrons. A finger of fear slid down her spine. She took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry, no.”
“It’s okay, Penny,” Joey said. His expression was hopeful but contained. “Nadia, you mentioned the one inside was speaking Russian. How can you be sure?”
Nadia dropped her hands onto the counter and gazed at him with watery eyes. “I trained in Kazan when I was first starting my career. I’ve gone on tours, played all over Russia.”
“Have t
here been any other robberies like this one in Glendale?” Penelope asked. “I can’t remember any.”
“Robbery might not have been the real motive,” Clarissa said.
“What do you mean?” Penelope asked.
Clarissa shared a glance with Joey, who shook his head slightly.
“The suspect ditched his backpack in an alley near the cafe. We recovered all the wallets, and the cash from the till.”
“That’s great,” Penelope said, relieved.
“Why would he ditch it?” Arlena said.
Joey shrugged. “He got scared, thought if he didn’t have the stolen money with him he’d look less guilty if caught. Who knows?”
“Sonya died for no reason at all,” Penelope said softly.
Clarissa cleared her throat, then rested her gaze on Nadia. “We’ve been able to account for all the personal items, confirm they belong to the cafe’s customers. The only thing missing is your bag.”
“What?” Nadia asked sharply, sitting up in her chair. “No, that can’t be right. It was inside on the bar with all the other purses. I saw it there when we were led out. The officer wouldn’t let me grab my things before we were shuffled out the door.”
“Unfortunately, she’s correct,” Joey said. “We’ve been able to identify all the other personal belongings through identifications inside or descriptions from the victims.”
Nadia stood up from her stool. “Someone took it? You need to find my purse,” Nadia raised her voice, causing Zazoo to stop chewing his rawhide stick and prick up his ears at her.
“It may have been misplaced,” Joey said. “Our people are going through the evidence boxes as we speak. We’ll find it, I’m sure.”
“And if you don’t?” Nadia asked sharply.
“We’ll take a report from you and send it through the proper channels. If it has been lost—”
“Or stolen,” Nadia interjected harshly.
Murder on the Rocks Page 5