Murder on the Rocks

by Shawn Reilly Simmons

  Back at the boat house, Penelope stood at the kitchen counter and listened to the coffee pot percolate on the counter. The bedroom door to the guys’ room was still closed, but she heard one of them moving around in there. If they weren’t up in the next half hour she’d have to rouse them so they could start getting ready for the long day ahead.

  Penelope smoothed the edges of the pair of drawings she gazed at on the counter. She stared at the composite sketches the set artist had drawn for her. His sandy blond hair, close-set eyes, green, she imagined, a long nose and full lips. It was as perfect a likeness as she could imagine, complete with the purple stain on the left side of his bottom lip.

  She filled her mug and sat down at the table with her coffee, still staring at the drawings. She sighed and looked up, her gaze falling on the bookshelf lining the far wall. There was one gap where the professor had borrowed the book the other day. The gap in the shelf bothered her for some reason, so she got up to shift the books together so they’d be evenly spaced. When she knelt down to shuffle the books, she saw something glinting from the back of the bookcase. “What in the...?” she murmured. What looked like the top of a mini microphone had been stuck to the back of the bookcase.

  “Bringing a book to set today?” Francis said as he came into the kitchen. He’d pulled on his chef pants and a white t-shirt, and his hair was still damp from the shower.

  “Um,” Penelope said, standing up. “Yeah, maybe.” She decided on the spot to watch what she said, and to not mention what looked like a microphone in their main living area.

  “Who’s this?” Francis asked, looking down at the drawing of the man’s face as he made his way to the coffee maker.

  “I’m not sure,” Penelope said, standing up and joining him at the table. She kept her eyes on the little device behind the books. “A guy I’ve seen a couple of times.”

  Francis shrugged and picked up the drawing. “He looks familiar, but like in a general way. He looks like a lot of people, I guess. Especially in Brooklyn.” He pointed to the likeness of the man with the beard. “What’s that on his lip?”

  Penelope felt a prick of doubt in her stomach, then pushed it away. She looked down at the drawing. “I don’t know. A birthmark maybe?”

  The front door opened and Tama came through, a smile on her face.

  “Call time is seven,” Penelope called after her as she breezed past them into the bedroom.

  “I’ll be ready,” Tama called faintly from the room before shutting the door.

  “She’s in a good mood,” Francis said. He took a sip of coffee from the mug clutched behind his thick knuckles.

  Penelope shook her head and sat back down at the table, not sure what to say.

  Chapter 32

  The day’s timing and film schedule was very much like the day before. Penelope felt her team fall into their rhythm, which put her mind at ease. Every movie set had its own unique ebbs and flows, its own particular way of doing things. Once they found their groove, it was easier to have successful days. Penelope also kept an eye on the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of her mystery man again, but he didn’t appear.

  After lunch, during the washing up lull before dinner, Penelope decided to drive to the good cell spot and give Joey a call. She told Jeremiah she had to pick up a few things from the market and he waved her off, unconcerned that her crew was back at the house. “You’re doing great today. I told you meditation would work.”

  “I think you could be right,” Penelope said, nodding vigorously. When he turned to go, Penelope hid her smile with her hand. What was the harm in letting him believe it was the meditation alone that had lifted her spirits?

  Penelope entered Nate’s market in Micklesburg and looked around for him. When she didn’t see him, or Cheri up front either, she knocked on the office door. Nate pulled the door open and smiled when he saw Penelope standing on the other side.

  “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Nate said.

  “Thanks,” Penelope said. “I just stopped in to grab a new frying pan. Do you have those? I thought I noticed a housewares section the other day. You know, before I fainted.”

  Nate chuckled and nodded. “We do. Let me show you.”

  Penelope followed him to the rear section of the store and chose two new pans.

  “And I’ll have that first delivery to you this evening. That still okay?” Nate asked.

  “Yes,” Penelope agreed.

  “You know, you could have called to add these to your order,” Nate said, leading her back to the front. “Not that I’m complaining about seeing you again.”

  Penelope’s smile faltered slightly. “Thanks, Nate. I was coming through town anyway, so I figured I’d just stop by. Also, I wanted to show you this.” She pulled the set of drawings from her pocket and unfolded it.

  “Who’s that?” Nate asked, squinting at the paper in her hand. His flannel shirt sleeve was rolled up, exposing his muscular forearm.

  “Someone I’ve seen a couple of times. I’m trying to figure out who he is,” Penelope said, watching his face.

  Nate shook his head. “I’ve never seen him, I don’t think.”

  “I thought since you have one of the only markets in the area,” Penelope said, deflating a bit, “that maybe he’d stopped by.”

  Nate handed the picture back to her. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Penelope said with a sigh. “How much do I owe you?” She held up the pans.

  “I’ll add it to the bill I bring later, how’s that?” Nate said, smiling again.

  Penelope thanked him and turned to go.

  “Would you want to have dinner with me sometime?” Nate called after her.

  Penelope turned slowly on her heel and smiled at him. “Dinner would be nice, Nate. But...I have a boyfriend back home in New Jersey.”

  “Well, I just meant dinner, nothing else,” Nate said, his smiling expression unchanged. “You have to eat, right?”

  “Yeah,” Penelope said carefully.

  “Anyway, I’ll see you up at the house.” Nate waved her off and turned back toward his office. Penelope glanced at the abandoned register, then at the empty parking lot. A gust of wind brushed her neck and she shivered, then stepped out into the sunshine.

  Chapter 33

  Penelope pulled into the lot of the abandoned service station and put her Jeep in park, cutting the motor. She got out and stretched her legs after retrieving her cell phone from the glove compartment and turning it on as she headed to her picnic table.

  Joey picked up on the second ring. “Penelope?”

  “Hey,” she said. “How are you?”

  “Better now that I’m talking to you,” he said. Not much had changed since she’d spoken to him the last time. They were still trying to find the accomplice from the attack at Sonya’s, and no new leads had turned up in the robbery at Lois’s coffee shop.

  “What about those letters I gave you? The ones from the jacket.”

  “It’s a pretty popular team, it turns out,” Joey said. “So it didn’t narrow the field by much.” She could hear him rifling through paper, and she pictured him at his desk.

  “Sorry it wasn’t more helpful,” Penelope said.

  “Well, CCCP was a popular team back in the 90s, according to my research, so it could be someone older than the kids in the attack at Sonya’s.”

  “Or someone of any age who is just a fan of the team,” Penelope said.

  “Yeah, like you and your Beatles t-shirt,” Joey said.

  “Right, like a tribute, something that stands the test of time,” Penelope said.

  “Anyways,” Joey said, “I’m taking a ride to the community center in a few minutes. There’s a youth hockey coach there. Maybe he knows these kids.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Penelope said. “Call you when I can, okay?”

 
“Looking forward to it.”

  Penelope hung up and stared at the phone in her lap. She picked it up and Googled Lois’s coffee shop in Glendale, dialing the number.

  “Glendale Grind,” a young voice answered after the first ring.

  “Hello, may I speak with Lois please?” Penelope asked.

  The girl clunked the phone on the counter without a word and shouted Lois’s name. Penelope could hear voices in the background and music playing while she waited.

  “Who is this?” the girl suddenly asked.

  “Penelope Sutherland.”

  The phone clunked on the counter again and Penelope sighed.

  “Okay, she’s here for you,” the girl said. The sound of the phone being jostled between hands caused Penelope to pull her phone from her hear.

  “Penelope,” Lois said. “I thought you were traveling. What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing, Lois,” Penelope said. “I heard what happened at the shop and wanted to check in with you.”

  The older woman sighed heavily over the phone. “Hang on a minute.” Penelope heard a door close and the background noise fall away. “Now I can hear you, back here in the office.”

  “Are you okay?” Penelope asked.

  “So sweet of you to call, dear,” Lois said. “I tell you it’s been a real rough week for the Letourneaus. Real tough. Some guy comes in here, whacks one of my kids on the head and cleans out the register. Thank goodness he couldn’t crack the safe. I’d be in a real jam, then.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Lois,” Penelope said. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “Thanks, dear. How’s the new job going?” Lois asked.

  “It’s fine,” Penelope said. “Quiet. Green. Lois, you said it’s been a rough week for the Letourneaus...is that your last name?”

  “Yes,” Lois said. “I thought you knew that. Why do you ask?”

  “I might have met someone from your family the other day at the hospital. The wife of one of the men who was attacked. Her name was Kelly.”

  “That’s my daughter-in-law,” Lois said. “Like I said, a rough week. First, she and my son are caught up in the mess down at Sonya’s, and now this happens to me. What are the odds?”

  Penelope sat quiet for a moment, thinking about what Lois said.

  “You still there, dear?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t realize that was your family there on the patio with us,” Penelope said.

  “How do you think I knew how brave you were?” Lois asked. “I heard firsthand what happened.”

  “Right,” Penelope said. “I assumed you had read about it in the paper. Anyway, I’m glad you’re okay, Lois.”

  “You too, dear,” Lois said. “I’m glad you’re okay too.”

  After they hung up she sent Joey a text: Robbery Connection: Letourneau victims at both.

  Penelope let the phone drop between her knees and dangle loosely in her hand. She looked at the wood covering the service station windows and wondered how the place used to look, imagining fresh paint and sparkling glass. There was a raised concrete island where she assumed gas pumps used to stand. The roof looked like it would have to be replaced before any other business could move in there. Penelope wondered what it was like to open a brand-new business, then slowly watch it decline year after year until nothing could be done but to board it up and hope the elements didn’t tear it completely down.

  Chapter 34

  Penelope was jolted awake the next morning by a rapid knocking on the front door of the boat house.

  “Meditation circle,” a man’s voice called. “Fifteen minutes.”

  Penelope swung her legs over the side of the bed and sighed. To her surprise, Tama wasn’t in her bed, sleeping silently like always. She’d gone to sleep the night before earlier than the others, who had decided to sit on the deck, drink a couple of beers, and talk before bed.

  “Early bird gets the worm,” Penelope mumbled as she pulled on her yoga clothes. Stepping into the main room of the boat house, she remembered the shiny button she’d seen the day before on the bookshelf and bent down to see what it was. The books appeared untouched, but the object was gone. Penelope rubbed her eyes and pulled her hair into a ponytail, wondering not for the first time if she actually was seeing things after all.

  Tama was in her usual spot on her yoga mat in the circle, and Penelope took a seat next to her without saying anything.

  “Welcome,” Jeremiah said, grasping Penelope’s hands in his and shaking them.

  “Morning,” Penelope said groggily. She decided she’d talk to him later about making crack of dawn meditation sessions optional going forward. Penelope had finally found a way to sleep at the boat house and wanted to get more of it now that she could.

  Jeremiah walked in front of everyone in the circle, pausing occasionally to lightly touch someone’s shoulder or hover his hand briefly over their head. Penelope cut a glance at Tama again, and saw she was watching Jeremiah too. Her smile was one of serenity, and something else Penelope hadn’t seen before. Pride, maybe?

  “You’re here early,” Penelope whispered to Tama.

  “I wanted to get a head start on this great day,” Tama said, closing her eyes again.

  Penelope rolled hers slightly, then followed suit, listening for the soothing suggestions Jeremiah began giving from his place across from them.

  After meditation, Penelope met with her team in the main kitchen. They worked out the menu and responsibilities for the day. Principal filming was going to be in the house that morning and afternoon, which was a relief to Penelope. Not having to transport everything back and forth four times would make the day much easier. She stifled a yawn as she handed out the mise en place assignments. They’d decided to grill flank steak and trout for lunch, then create their spin on a customizable fajita station. Dinner would be roasted local duck with scalloped potatoes, yams, or rice; and their standard massive salad bar for both meals also. This was their most ambitious meal on the shoot yet, but with the extra time Penelope knew they could pull it off well.

  “And peach cobbler for dessert,” Penelope said, remembering her promise to the young artist. “Hefheiser is bringing a bushel of peaches and some of their ice cream from the farm.”

  The delight in their faces told Penelope she employed a trio of foodies, who got as excited about great ingredients as she did.

  After they got started, Penelope ducked upstairs to check on Arlena, who was in makeup getting transformed into older Helen Wills. She had to admit, she wanted to stay and watch for a while, but she knew she didn’t really have the time. A quick peek would be okay.

  As she mounted the main staircase, she buttoned the top of her chef coat. She reached the top, and was almost tipped backwards by Thomas, who rushed around the corner and collided with her.

  “Penelope,” Thomas said. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” Penelope said, still startled. “What’s going on?”

  Thomas shook his head. “There’s been an accident. Nadia wrecked the SUV. It’s totaled. I have to go deal with it now.”

  “Is Nadia okay?” Penelope asked, her voice louder than normal.

  “She’s a little shaken up, but she’s fine physically,” he said. “Some jerk ran her off the road this morning on her way back. She hit a guardrail, almost went down a ravine.”

  Penelope put a hand over her mouth. “I’m so glad she’s not hurt again.”

  “Me too,” Thomas said with a worried grimace. “Again?”

  Penelope waived off her comment. “A thing from before we got here. What about the other driver?”

  “They never even stopped,” Thomas said. “Nadia said he kept going, left her there on a deserted mountain road with a car she can’t drive. Luckily, she had her phone with her and was able to call the cops. Obviously whoever did it was from far away. Folks around h
ere wouldn’t leave someone on the side of the road.”

  Penelope looked at him curiously. She was confident she’d never be able to vouch for everyone in Glendale to act correctly, no matter how much she liked her town. “Let me know if I can do anything to help,” Penelope said. Even as she said it she wasn’t sure how she could help.

  “Sure.” Thomas continued down the stairs, shaking his head as he went.

  When Penelope got to the second-floor landing, she looked out the front windows and watched Thomas get in his car and head down the driveway. She pulled her phone from her pocket and looked at the words “no signal,” then made a note to call Nadia when she they were out on the road again.

  “Did you hear about Nadia?” Penelope asked when she stuck her head into the guest room that had been assigned to the makeup team. Arlena sat in a chair in front of a large mirror rimmed by soft light bulbs.

  “Yes.” Arlena sighed. “I knew she should have skipped that drug test thing.” Arlena glanced at the older woman applying makeup to her nose. The woman nodded in understanding. Penelope assumed it was some kind of shared code to keep what they said to themselves.

  “It didn’t sound like she could,” Penelope said. “I’m afraid someone is trying to hurt her on purpose.” She watched the makeup woman’s fingers pause briefly before pressing the edges of a latex nose onto Arlena’s face, transforming her instantly, but subtly, into someone different.

  “What do you mean?” Arlena asked after the latex had a moment to set.

  “Well, she was attacked at Sonya’s. Not everyone got hit by that guy,” Penelope offered. The makeup artist flicked her kohl-rimmed eyes to Penelope’s in the mirror.

  “She wouldn’t give up her purse,” Arlena said, tilting her head from side to side to admire her new nose.

  “Her bag was stolen from the police station,” Penelope said more urgently. “And now a hit and run. Doesn’t that sound like a lot for one person in a week’s time?”

  Arlena nodded slowly. “Or a particularly bad stroke of luck. All those things could be random coincidences, I don’t see an obvious connection. And the car accident happened here, not in New Jersey.”