“Penelope, have you met Rebekkah’s parents?” Jeanne said, making the introductions.
Rebekkah’s mom looked at her with a confused expression, her face creased with worry. “You’re from the movie,” Mrs. Flores said, hugging her arms around her chest, her purse strap twisting in the crook of her arm.
“I wanted to let you know, if I can help with anything, please give me a call.”
Penelope reached into her backpack and pulled out her business card, handing it to Mrs. Flores. Mr. Flores looked down at Penelope sternly, not offering a hello or and handshake, his face a mask of concern.
“We’ll do anything we can to help find them,” Penelope said earnestly.
Mr. Flores shook his head and turned abruptly away, storming back into the hallway of the Inn. Jeanne followed him out, wringing her hands.
“He’s upset. We all are,” Mrs. Flores said distractedly. Her large brown eyes were glassy and red, and her jaw was set in a firm line under her soft features. “It’s not like them to worry us like this. They’re good girls.”
Penelope nodded. “I know…I really hope they turn up soon. Please call me if you think of anything I can do, or if you need to talk to anyone from the production. I can put you in touch with whoever you need.” She pointed out her cell number on the card in Mrs. Flores’ hand.
“You know, that’s why we let her come to work for you. She earned our trust, never breaking her curfew, keeping up her grades,” Mrs. Flores said. “Me and her dad, we both work at the school; we keep a close eye on her.”
“It sounds like this is totally out of character for both of them,” Penelope said. She thought to herself that wasn’t great news. If the girls had a history of running away or breaking curfew, maybe their sudden disappearance wouldn’t be as upsetting. Two girls who normally followed the rules vanishing into thin air was harder to explain, and definitely more troubling.
“I have to get home, in case she calls. The police said we should,” Mrs. Flores said. She thanked Penelope and followed her husband out into the hallway.
Penelope wound her way over to Arlena and Max’s table and took a seat, motioning to a worried-looking Jeanne with her empty coffee mug. She hurried over with a steaming carafe.
“They’re in such a state,” she said. “Such a nice family, I feel so badly for them.”
The table fell silent, as they thought of how to proceed.
“I’ll give you another minute or two,” Jeanne said, turning away. She had regained some of her poise, but her hands shook a little more than usual when she poured their coffee.
“A couple of teenagers are missing?” Max asked Penelope after Jeanne had stepped away.
Penelope busied herself fixing her coffee, adding cream until it was just the right color of light brown. “Rebekkah and Sabena, the girls who work for me as servers on set. No one has seen them since Friday night and the police are looking for them.”
“How can someone go missing on an island this small?” Arlena asked.
“I’m not sure,” Penelope said. “I just met with Rebekkah’s parents. They’re really worried about her, understandably.”
“I talked with Rebekkah the other day after lunch. She has an interest in acting, was talking about starting a drama club over at the school,” Arlena said. “Sweet girl…I told her she should do it, form the club. And I offered to go and talk to whoever the teacher would be, see if they wanted any advice. I think she was going to set something up.”
“Do either of them have a boat?” Max asked after taking a sip of coffee.
“I’ve never heard them talking about their families owning boats. But I don’t know them all that well either,” Penelope said.
“Don’t worry, Pen. I’m sure they’ll turn up soon. Let’s stay positive, and keep an eye out for them,” Arlena said. She put her menu down on the table and wrapped her hands around her mug of tea. “Oh look, it’s Gavin.”
Arlena’s costar was in the doorway of the restaurant chatting with Jeanne, still wearing his sunglasses. When he noticed Arlena in the front of the room, he made his way over to their table.
“Good morning, all,” he said.
“Have you had breakfast? We have an extra seat,” Arlena said.
“Not yet. That would be lovely, thanks,” Gavin said.
“Max, this is Gavin McKenna. Gavin, this is my brother Max,” Arlena said.
“Max Madison,” Gavin said, shaking Max’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve watched your show.” He took the empty seat next to Penelope.
“Good to meet you too,” Max said. “I know Arlena is enjoying working with you.”
“You’re a fan of Max’s show? The one with all the children of famous people behaving badly in Lower Manhattan?” Arlena asked, a bit incredulously.
“Yeah, I’m a big fan, it’s quite entertaining,” Gavin said, removing his sunglasses. “I need coffee.”
Penelope winced at his bloodshot eyes.
“Rough night?”
“Yeah, but that was two nights ago. I’m still hungover from Friday. I couldn’t even get out of bed yesterday.” Gavin looked longingly at his empty coffee mug.
“Whatever you had in that flask got you, huh?” Penelope teased.
Gavin grimaced and shook his head.
“Has everyone decided?” Jeanne asked, suddenly at their tableside again.
They made their breakfast orders, and Jeanne hurried away, stopping first to clear a few dirty plates and mugs from the table next to theirs.
“Have you heard about the missing girls?” Penelope asked.
“What girls?” Gavin asked, busy fixing his coffee.
Penelope filled him in on what she’d learned from the police and her chefs.
“And now they’re missing?” Gavin asked, momentarily distracted by something out the window.
“Do you remember seeing Rebekkah or Sabena talking with anyone after we left?”
Gavin sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was silent for so long Penelope thought maybe he had dozed off. His eyes snapped open suddenly and he said, “Yes, I do. I was sitting at the bar and they were with that young fellow who has been hanging around the set. The other one who works for you, right? Tall, thin, black hair?”
“Regan?” Penelope asked.
“I suppose so,” Gavin said. “He was talking to them and your other chefs, and that loud French guy in the Hawaiian shirt. I was having a drink with Shane at the bar.” Gavin grimaced and shook his head. “And honestly after that things get a bit fuzzy. Afterwards a few of the guys from the crew were upstairs in my room, just listening to music and playing cards. I passed out right as the sun was coming up.”
“Gavin, you’re lucky you had an extra day off to get that out of your system,” Arlena said, giving him a stern look.
“We should hang out sometime,” Max said with a quick laugh.
“So you didn’t see the girls leave the party?” Penelope asked.
“Sorry, love. I can’t remember,” Gavin said sheepishly. Glancing at Max he said, “A few of us from the crew are going to Josie’s tonight. It will be a more mellow evening than Friday was, for sure. They’re having a local band in if you want to join us, meet some of your new coworkers.”
“Sure, thanks,” Max said.
Arlena wrinkled her nose. “That place is crawling with shellfish.”
“It is called Josie’s Shrimp Shack. They’re not trying to be discreet about it,” Gavin said.
Just then a young waiter came over to their table, a large oval tray on his shoulder. He placed their breakfasts down in front of them, pancakes for the guys and egg white veggie omelets for the ladies.
“Could I get a fill up when you get a chance?” asked Gavin.
The waiter smiled shyly. “O
f course. Be right back.”
“I love it here,” Gavin said, forking a big bite of pancake into his mouth. “Everyone is so nice. I could move into the Andrea Inn and be happy for the rest of my days. It’s our own private paradise, isn’t it?”
Penelope stared at her plate and thought that it wasn’t a very happy paradise for Rebekkah and Sabena’s families, not at the moment at least.
“It’s good you’re enjoying your time here,” Arlena said.
“It’s nice to be somewhere warm where it’s not constantly raining,” Gavin said cheerfully. “It’s heavenly, being in the tropics, not having to put on a bunch of layers. And you can’t beat the smell of the ocean.”
Penelope tried to focus on the conversation, but her mind kept wandering back to the last time she saw the girls, and to finding Regan in the state he was in on Saturday morning. She ate her breakfast without really tasting it as she went over it again and again. Her stomach began to tighten with worry and dread.
Chapter 6
Arlena, Max and Penelope said goodbye to Gavin in the lobby of the Inn and walked out the front door to Ocean Avenue. As they headed back towards the marina, Penelope noticed a commotion in front of the empty building next to Sackler’s Market.
“There’s those cops again,” Max said. “Who’s the punk rocker?”
Penelope squinted and put her hand up to shade her eyes. “That’s Emilio Babineau, my old chef instructor.”
Penelope saw Detective Williams standing next to Emilio with his hands on his gun belt, nodding as Emilio spoke.
“I wonder what’s going on,” Penelope said.
“They’re probably asking him the same questions they asked you,” Arlena said. “He was at the party too, and Gavin said he saw the girls talking to him.”
As they got closer Penelope began to overhear their conversation. The three of them paused a few feet away, watching Emilio from behind as the detectives questioned him.
“…zoning approved the remodel last week and the construction crew is coming over on Monday,” Emilio said. “I’ve been on the other side of the island at my house all weekend, which is another renovation site. I’m up to my ears with everything going on, getting permits, setting up meetings, trying to get both of these projects underway.”
“Can anyone confirm your whereabouts on Friday night?” Detective Torres asked sharply.
“My wife,” Emilio said quickly. “I called her from the house after I got home from the party. I’m sorry those girls are missing, I really am, but I had nothing to do with it. You can check. I’ve been with people all weekend. I had lunch Saturday afternoon with Shane Guthrie. He picked me up at the house…he can tell you no girls were there.”
“We’ll be looking into all of that,” Detective Williams said. “We’ve heard from several people that you were talking with Rebekkah and Sabena at the party. Did either of them say anything to you about running away or going to the mainland for the weekend?”
“Not that I remember,” Emilio said, relaxing a bit. “They were having fun, from what I could tell.”
“Did you see them drinking alcohol on the beach?” Detective Williams asked. His deep voice was calm and soothing, which didn’t fit with his serious expression.
Emilio held his palms up, fending off the question. “They didn’t get any from me, I swear.”
“Is this your vehicle?” Detective Torres asked, eyeing a white double cab pickup truck with an enclosed camper shell, the Craw Daddy’s logo blazed across both sides.
Penelope turned to Arlena and Max, then urged them to follow her.
“I’m going to say something to him,” Penelope said. They walked out onto the street around the truck and stood near it to continue watching the conversation.
Emilio looked at the truck and said, “I bought it for the restaurant.”
Detective Torres walked around the truck and looked in the cab’s windows. “You mind if we take a look inside?”
“Don’t you need a warrant for that?” Emilio asked.
Penelope looked at Emilio quickly, his expression a mix of apprehension and resignation.
“Sure, we can go back to the station and get a warrant, but that will take time,” Officer Williams soothed. “Time those girls might not have. Don’t you want to help us find them? It’s part of our search, looking at all of the enclosed vehicles on the island.” The large man nodded reassuringly as he spoke.
Emilio looked at his boots, then said, “Sure, take a look. I have nothing to hide.”
“We appreciate that, Mr. Babineau,” Officer Torres said, not sounding very appreciative.
“I guess if it helps,” Emilio mumbled as he dug in his pocket for the keys. He clicked the fob to unlock the front doors, then walked behind the truck and opened the cab’s window, swinging it up and then lowering the rear gate. He stepped away and Detective Torres pulled a thin flashlight from her utility belt, twisting it on and shining the beam inside the rear of the truck.
Penelope took a few steps closer and said, “Hi, Chef. Everything okay?”
“Penelope,” Emilio said, relief flooding his face. “Detectives, this is Penelope Sutherland, my former student. She can tell you I had nothing to do with those girls going missing.”
“Hello again, Miss Sutherland,” Officer Williams said. “Were you with Mr. Babineau on Friday night?”
Penelope stammered, “Yes, at the party. I’m sure Emilio wouldn’t do anything—”
“Of course I wouldn’t. You saw me, I was with Shane. We threw the party together. I talked with lots of people there,” Emilio rambled, his words coming faster the more he spoke.
“You were one of the last people seen with the girls,” Detective Williams said. “We have a witness who says the party had broken up and afterwards you were talking with Sabena, Rebekkah and…” he consulted his notepad, “Regan Daniels.”
“But there were other people around. If someone saw us talking, someone else had to have been there too.”
Detective Torres pulled on a pair of latex gloves and hoisted herself onto the rear gate of the truck. She squatted and duck-walked into the camper, her rubber-soled boots squeaking along the bed of the truck as she moved farther in.
Penelope glanced around and noticed all of the little houses nearby had at least one person outside on the porch, watching the drama unfold.
“Is this yours?” Detective Torres asked. She crouched on the back of the truck holding a small silver purse in her hand.
Penelope’s stomach dropped when she recognized the purse that had been draped across Rebekkah at the beach party.
“I have no idea how that got there. Maybe it’s my wife’s,” Emilio said, looking curiously at the purse.
Detective Torres snapped it open and looked inside, gently sorting through the contents with a latex-covered finger. After a few seconds she pulled out a laminated card and held it up. Rebekkah smiled at them from the front of her student ID.
Emilio seemed to fold in on himself, his shoulders dipping towards his chest.
“How do you explain Rebekkah Flores’s purse in the back of your truck?” Detective Torres asked, closing the purse and leveling her gaze at him.
“I can’t,” Emilio said. “And I can’t help you with anything else. I’m sorry they’re gone, but I didn’t do anything. It wasn’t me, and I have no idea how her purse got back there.”
Detective Williams and Torres stepped aside, conferring with each other in hushed voices. Detective Torres pulled out her phone after a few seconds and made a call.
Emilio looked at Penelope hopefully and lowered his voice. “Penelope, you have to back me up on this.”
Penelope shook her head, trying to understand what was happening. “Chef, when did you last see the girls? How did Rebekkah’s purse get in the back of you
r truck?”
“I have no idea. It’s been parked in the driveway at the house since Friday.”
“Then what is there to back you up on?” Penelope said.
“Pen?” Arlena called from where she and Max stood behind them on the sidewalk. “Is everything okay?”
Penelope flicked a gaze at Arlena over her shoulder. “I’m not sure.” Turning back to Emilio she said, “You went home after the party, right?”
Emilio hesitated before saying, “Yes, of course.”
“Chef, what happened? Were you talking with Sabena and Rebekkah after the party broke up like they’re saying?”
Emilio’s expression closed, and he took a step away from her. “I shouldn’t be saying anything to anyone. Do me a favor, Penelope, if they ask you about me, tell them I’m a good person and I wouldn’t hurt those girls.”
Penelope suddenly felt nauseous. “Chef, what about the thing that happened at school? What if they start looking into your past?”
“Nothing happened at school,” Emilio said quickly. He grabbed Penelope’s forearm with his thick fingers, pressing into her skin. “No charges were filed, and the girls recanted their stories to the dean. I was set up by those little…never mind.”
“But you left school because of what happened, in the middle of the term,” Penelope said, twisting from under his grip. Red slashes in the shape of his fingers circled her arm. Arlena stepped up behind Penelope and shot a warning glance at Emilio.
“I left because it was time for me to go,” Emilio said harshly. “It was part of the settlement, and it was the best thing for everyone, including me. I never touched those girls, and they know it.”
“Mr. Babineau,” Officer Torres interrupted, clipping her phone back onto her belt. “We’d like you to come with us and answer some more questions.”
Emilio started shaking his head before she was finished talking. “I don’t think so. Unless I’m under arrest, I’m finished helping you.” The word “helping” dripped with sarcasm.
“Have it your way,” Officer Torres said crisply. “We’re getting warrants to search your properties, so we’ll be seeing you again very soon.” Officer Williams stood behind her, his hands on his waist.
Murder on the Half Shell (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 2) Page 5