Marla turned to the washer as it stopped spinning, pulled the door open, and dropped a pile of damp sheets into the wicker basket at her feet. She twisted her mouth into a smile and softened her voice. “Bailey’s no threat to anyone, Penelope. He’s a good boy, wouldn’t hurt nobody. Now, go on back upstairs. There’s lots to be done.”
“Okay,” Penelope said. “Thanks.” When she was halfway up the wooden staircase she looked back down at Marla, who was shaking her head and muttering under her breath, twisting the last drops of water from the sheet in her hands.
Chapter 27
Back upstairs, Penelope found Joey on the bed with his eyes closed, her iPad on the comforter next to him. She stepped quietly out of her shoes and unzipped her dress, laying it across the back of a chair and shivering as she pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. She eased onto the bed next to Joey, pulling the crocheted blanket at the edge of the bed over both of them after setting the iPad gently on the nightstand. Penelope inched closer to him and closed her eyes, listening to his regular breathing and feeling the warmth between them build beneath the blanket.
Penelope tried to clear her head and relax, but her thoughts kept slipping back to Bailey, the way he stared at her and his maniacal laughter at the church.
After a few minutes, she gave up, deciding she was too keyed up for a nap. She slid over a few inches so she wouldn’t disturb Joey, whose breathing had slowed as he’d fallen into a deeper slumber. Grabbing the iPad from the nightstand, she swiped it to life and searched “Herring – Steele Inc.” Over three hundred results came up, so she added “Indiana” to narrow it down. She clicked on a few of the links, pulling up a car dealership, a stationary business, and what looked like a lawn and garden company. They all had one or two elements of the name, but not the whole one.
Penelope then pulled up the article about Bailey she’d found in the Forrestville Gazette. She read it more carefully this time, searching for any similarities to the vandalism at Festa. The only thing both crimes had in common was the pentagram, which Penelope had to admit was a common symbol for rebellious kids, not at all unique to rural Indiana.
Penelope’s eyes stopped mid-sentence when she came across something she had missed the last time she read the article.
“Bailey Fenton identified himself as Defensores Cibum to arresting officers, and demanded the name be used by his attorney. Mr. Fenton would not respond unless addressed by his self-appointed alias.”
Joey stirred next to her and opened his eyes. “Hey, there you are,” he said sleepily. His eyes slipped closed and he reached out for Penelope, pulling her into a hug under the blanket. Penelope set the iPad aside and snuggled into him, breathing in his sandalwood cologne.
“I tried to nap with you,” Penelope said, “but I can’t rest.”
“I know, you’re not a good napper,” Joey said. “What were you reading?”
“The article about Bailey’s arrest a few years ago,” Penelope said. She suddenly felt drowsy, like she could actually fall asleep. “He called himself something weird, Defensores Cibum. Like a superhero name or something.” Her voice trailed off and she pulled the blanket up to her chin.
“Come on, you remember Latin class at Immaculate Heart, don’t you?” Joey asked, nudging her a little.
“Stop,” Penelope said, burrowing under the covers. “Kind of, not really.”
“Cibum is meat,” Joey said. “I remember that much.”
Penelope’s eyes popped open and she sat up in bed. “Defender of Meat? That’s what he called himself?”
“Sounds like it,” Joey said, trying to pull her back down.
“Then it’s got to be him,” Penelope said urgently. “That fits with the animal-rights messages, the whole paint as blood thing.”
“So the kid doesn’t like to eat meat,” Joey said. “That doesn’t prove he trashed the restaurant, Penny.”
Penelope sat up and swept the blanket back. “Jordan was a hunter, served meat that he killed himself at Festa,” she said, her words coming quickly. “If Bailey thought he could save more animals by killing Jordan…”
Joey propped himself up on an elbow. “Okay, you might have something there,” he admitted. “But how do we prove it? I didn’t get the feeling that sheriff was interested in pursuing Bailey as a suspect.”
“I’m not sure,” Penelope said. Her phone buzzed on the table and she grabbed it. “Text from Arlena. She’s feeling better, but not one hundred percent. Sam isn’t sick.”
“He’s made of steel, that guy,” Joey said.
Penelope started to text her back when another message came through. “See you later?” from Ava.
Penelope blew out a sigh and responded a quick “yes” before putting the phone down and flopping backwards onto the bed. “I never should’ve agreed to this. I’m needed at the restaurant again tonight.”
Chapter 28
Penelope dreaded going into Festa that night, not a feeling she was used to at all. She loved working as a chef, spending days with her crew on different sets. The time she was spending at Festa confirmed she’d made the right career choice after graduating from culinary school. Penelope had a lot of respect for restaurant chefs, but her preference was to be on the go, not working in the same kitchen night after night. Even though it was temporary, Penelope couldn’t wait for this particular favor to be over.
She took a breath and reset her attitude, deciding her feelings were more to do with Jordan’s death, and the fact that Joey, not to mention Arlena, her best friends in the world, were in town and she couldn’t spend as much time as she’d like with them. She decided to stay positive and help Festa get through another dinner service, then have a talk with Ava about stepping aside and letting the current staff take over. She was confident they could.
Christine and Regina were in the service area adjacent to the kitchen, huddled in the corner and speaking to each other in low voices. Regina pulled the strings of her apron tightly around her waist as Christine adjusted the collar on her shirt. When Penelope got closer, they stopped talking and hurried to finish getting themselves together.
“How are you guys doing?” Penelope asked. She picked up an almost empty box of the dark green half-sized straws Jordan preferred to use at Festa and grabbed the remaining few. She handed an unopened box to Christine and motioned to her to add the ones in her hand to the full one. “Marry these up, will you?”
“Sure,” Christine said, taking the straws from her with an overly enthusiastic smile. Regina remained quiet, averting her gaze from Penelope.
“What are tonight’s specials?” Penelope asked them.
“Um,” Christine said, looking up at the ceiling to recall. “Venison stew?”
Penelope shook her head and directed her next question to Regina. “What’s your guess? We went over this week’s specials last night, remember?” Penelope wasn’t sure why, but putting them on the spot made her feel some sense of power shift back to her.
Regina looked up from the floor at Penelope, and, to her surprise, burst into tears. She sprinted from the service area through the dining-room doors. Christine’s mouth hung open as she watched her friend hurry away.
After an awkward moment, Penelope said, “I’ll go check on her.”
“Regina’s just…” Christine paused. “She’s taking everything really hard.”
“That’s understandable,” Penelope said. “I think we all are. I’m not just asking how you’re doing to make conversation. I’m concerned about you guys.”
“That’s…thank you. It’s been hard to be here, you know?”
“Yeah,” Penelope said. “I get it. I’m going to go check on Regina.”
Penelope scanned the dining room and saw no sign of her, only Jeremy behind the bar cutting lemons and limes into wedges. He waved his knife and rolled his eyes in the direction of the ladies’ room when Penelope
asked if he’d seen Regina come through.
“Hello?” Penelope said, entering the room.
“I’m in here,” Regina answered testily.
“What’s going on?” Penelope asked, keeping her tone light.
“Leave me alone,” Regina said. She was leaning against the pink-tiled wall next to the sinks clutching a paper towel. She wiped her eyes and nose angrily every few seconds.
“Would you like to go home?” Penelope asked, meeting the girl’s eyes in the mirror. “If you’re too upset to work, you’re excused.”
Regina wiped her nose again. “Don’t you think it’s messed up any of us are here at all?”
Penelope didn’t want to admit to her the thought had crossed her mind. “Look, I know things aren’t easy right now, but they will be again. The family wants to keep things going, make sure you all continue to get paid regardless of their personal tragedy.”
Regina rolled her dark green eyes, swiping a smear of mascara from her cheek as she glared into the mirror. “Right. The family. Bunch of money grabbers, if you ask me. They’re probably hoping Chef Jordan gets more famous now that he’s dead so they can squeeze even more cash from his corpse.”
Penelope crossed her arms in front of her and leaned on the bathroom wall. “That’s a little harsh, Regina. You can’t know how Mrs. Foster or any of them are feeling.”
Regina scoffed. “Yeah, right. I know exactly.”
“You know, you don’t have to stay. If you don’t feel comfortable working for the family, no one can stop you from leaving.”
Regina tossed the wet ball of paper towel into the trash and pulled off a fresh sheet from the dispenser. “You can stop talking to me like you’re my boss,” she said, raising her voice. She pulled a tube of eyeliner from her pocket and began to draw thick circles around her eyes.
“Speak to me respectfully, regardless of what you think is fair,” Penelope said, maintaining her gaze in the mirror.
“Whatever,” Regina said dismissively. “You’ll be gone soon, like everyone else.”
“You know what? You should go home,” Penelope said. “You’re obviously too upset to work a shift on the floor.”
“You can’t send me home,” Regina said. “You’re just some bitch from New York.”
“Get out,” Penelope said, keeping her voice even. “I’ll let Ava know you won’t be working.”
Regina turned and stared at Penelope, a small smile playing on her painted lips. “Fine. Good luck without me tonight.”
She pulled off her apron and dropped it on the bathroom floor before taking a wide arc around Penelope and stomping through the door.
Penelope felt the sudden urge to laugh, a surge of adrenaline making her skin feel tingly. She’d never fired anyone before, and even though she hadn’t officially done it now, it felt like she had. Penelope ran her hands through her hair and retied her ponytail before heading back into the dining room. She caught a bit of conversation as she got closer.
“…thinks she can tell me what to do,” Regina was saying. A murmured response came from Jeremy, noncommittal from what Penelope could make out. “She’s a bitch,” Regina complained.
“That’s enough,” Penelope said. “You should be going, Regina.”
Jeremy busied himself by polishing a glass, looking like he wanted no part of the conversation.
The girl slapped the handle on the front door of the restaurant and went through, throwing one last dirty look at Penelope through the glass.
Chapter 29
Halfway through dinner service, Penelope handed the service window over to the sous chef and went out into the dining room. They were down to two servers who had to cover all the tables on their own. Luckily for them, but maybe unluckily for the restaurant, the seating was sparse, with many more cancellations that night than the one before.
Christine looked at Penelope apologetically when she saw her on the floor, but kept her expression neutral when speaking to the guests.
Joey sat at the bar, a frosted glass of amber-colored beer in front of him. He talked easily with Jeremy, who leaned straight-armed on the wood between filling drink orders.
Penelope stepped up behind Joey and tapped him on the shoulder.
“There’s my girl,” Joey said. “Jeremy here was just telling me he’s taking a semester off school to save money, working here as much as he can.”
“Good for you,” Penelope said. “What are you studying?”
“Criminal Justice over at IU,” Jeremy said.
“He’s going to be a lawyer,” Joey said, taking a sip of beer. Some foam stuck to his upper lip and Penelope resisted the urge to wipe it off.
Jeremy chuckled. “Maybe, or a police detective. We’ll see if I can save up enough to pay for law school. By the way, I’m running low on a few things.” He held up an empty bottle of wine, then rattled off a couple of other items he needed. Penelope squinted at the label then jotted down the name on a small pad in her apron and headed back toward the kitchen.
“Penny,” Joey said catching up to her and pulling her into the restroom hallway.
“What’s up?” Penelope asked.
“Something weird. I ran those five names you gave me in all the usual places. There are no files to be found on any of them.”
“That is weird. What does it mean?” Penelope asked.
“Besides the national registry of missing persons, there are no local police files on those missing kids, none that I can find anyway. I have a call into a guy on the job in Indianapolis, a friend of a friend.”
“So it’s like a clerical error?”
“I could see a clerical error if it was one, maybe two files. Not all five,” Joey said. “Anyway, I’ll keep looking.”
“It’s such a well-known case,” Penelope said. “Seems like there should be lots of records on the missing kids.”
The front door opened and Randall and Max Madison blew inside, shaking the cold from their coats. Max headed immediately to the bar with Randall right behind him. Jeremy froze when he saw the two famous actors approaching.
“Hey, guys,” Joey said, coming back around the corner with Penelope. He shook Max’s hand. “Wow, you’re freezing.”
Randall’s laughter boomed as he pulled out a stool and eyed the bottles of liquor behind the bar. Max sat down next to his dad and hugged himself, his teeth chattering.
“What are you doing here?” Penelope asked. The few tables scattered nearby ceased their conversations and stared openly at the father and son duo at the bar.
“I told Dad if we didn’t get inside and have a decent meal, and a decent drink, that I was going back to New York tonight,” Max said.
Jeremy found his voice. “What can I get you, gentlemen?”
“I’ll have a bourbon, neat,” Randall said, shrugging out of his coat.
“Same,” Max said. He took his father’s jacket and his own to hang in the outer vestibule while Jeremy slid menus in front of their seats.
“Poor kid,” Randall said, chuckling. “He made it a couple of days. Pretty good, I have to admit, with this cold.”
“Are you going back to your campsite after dinner?” Penelope asked.
“Um, no,” Max said, still chattering after returning to his stool.
“I think I got the general idea of what it’s like to almost freeze to death,” Randall agreed. “I feel I’m prepared for the role.”
“Better you than me,” Joey said.
Randall picked up his tumbler of bourbon. “Max has been complaining the entire time, but I think overall it’s been a good experience. Crazy enough, we’re not the only ones out there.”
“Who have you seen?” Penelope asked.
“We’ve come across a couple of camps on our hikes.”
“You see any bears?” Joey asked.
“No,” R
andall said with clear disappointment.
“These camps,” Penelope said. “Were they campers like you guys or more like homeless people?”
Randall considered. “A little of both, now that I think about it. You know, you’d like it out there.” He flipped open the menu. “It’s good to unplug once in a while, get back to nature.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” Penelope said.
Max rubbed his hands together and took a sip of his drink. “Arlena said everyone is sick at the inn, but that you were over here cooking. A Penelope-cooked meal is just what the doctor ordered.”
“You got me there, kid,” Randall agreed. “I do love your food, Pen.”
The front door whooshed open and Sybil walked in, clutching a dark green scarf with a matching leather-gloved hand.
“Sybil, how are Jackson and Dakota feeling?” Penelope asked, helping Sybil off with her camel coat and hanging it in the vestibule with the others.
“Much better, thank you,” Sybil said with relief. “I talked the assistant director into keeping an eye on them tonight so I could venture out for a proper dinner.”
Penelope laughed when she pictured the nervous young man, who always seemed at a loss for what to do around the kids, wrangling the two young actors into bed.
Sybil stopped short when she noticed Randall at the bar. “Randall Madison, after all these years.”
Randall did a half turn on his stool and eyed Sybil, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Have we met?”
Sybil blushed and adjusted her scarf. Penelope thought she looked lovely, considering she’d been holed up in a room with two sick children the last couple of days. She was dressed casually in skinny jeans and a sweater, but Sybil always looked pulled together.
“We were in a movie together many years ago,” Sybil said.
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