“Let’s not think about that. And you’re not alone. I’m here.” Penelope stood up to get the purse she’d tossed onto the bed. She retrieved her phone. “I’m going to call someone who can hopefully help us.”
Arlena had gone back to gazing out the window, her shoulders slumping weakly. Penelope could see she was on the verge of tears.
“Gomez.”
“Hi, Denise, it’s Penelope.”
“Hey, how are you feeling? They release you yet?”
“Yes, I left the hospital a little while ago. Listen, we just got a call that Max has been arrested for Christian’s murder. Do you know anything about it?” Penelope closed her eyes and said a silent prayer that Officer Gomez would be able to help.
“No, I hadn’t heard. I’m out on patrol. Tell you what, let me make a call and I’ll be back in touch.”
“Okay,” Penelope said, deflating a bit. “Anything you can find out, we’d really appreciate it.”
“Talk to you soon,” she said, and ended the call.
“I know one of the officers from the precinct. She’s going to look into it and call me back,” Penelope said. “I think we should go to Christian’s apartment building. It’s the last place we know Max was and it’s surrounded by apartments. Maybe we can find something out, something that will help Max. I was on my way over there when I got hit by the cab.”
“Maybe it would help,” Arlena said, a glimmer of hope in her voice. “But wouldn’t the police have done that already?”
Penelope’s mind skipped back to tired Detective Leary who had questioned her that morning, then remembered how she’d been the first one to talk to Sienna. She shook her head and said, “They may have, but it can’t hurt to go by there and see what we can find out. We’re on Max’s side in this, and may be the only ones right now. If we find a witness to what happened or uncover a new suspect for them to consider, it could help him.”
Arlena looked at her skeptically, but eventually agreed, saying, “Well, I don’t know what else to do. I guess it’s better than sitting here and worrying.”
In the car, Penelope searched for news of Max’s arrest on her phone. It hadn’t been picked up widely yet, but she did find a mention of it on one of the local New York news websites.
“How do they get this information so quickly?” Penelope asked, scrolling through the article.
“They have contacts at the police station. The minute something happens, the papers and stations get a call, especially when it involves someone famous.”
Penelope saw Christian’s name and a link to another article about his murder, but it too was vague and only stated the general crime and neighborhood. She found Christian’s online photo portfolio that Sienna mentioned and scrolled slowly through dozens of pictures.
“Wait, Christian has the same last name as the director of the agency,” Penelope said with surprise.
“Really?” Arlena asked, looking down at Penelope’s phone. “That’s odd.”
“Maybe they’re related,” Penelope said. “Alves is a common name, so maybe not, but that would be a coincidence.”
The Town Car pulled up in front of Christian’s brownstone twenty minutes later and Penelope tucked her phone away. She glanced at the building from the car and saw someone walk past the windows of the first-floor office of MUI.
“This is where Christian lived?” Arlena asked, stepping out of the car.
“And where he was killed,” Penelope said, accepting the arm of the driver as she stepped out on her side. The pain in her ribcage was more acute now, and she thought back to when she’d taken her last pain pill. Penelope watched a tall thin woman dressed all in gray walk past the window again and glance at their car. “That must be Joyce Alves. Officer Gomez told me she’s met her several times. Let’s go talk to her.”
“Maybe she knows who really killed Christian, or has an idea at least. We need to convince her to give us a name, or go to the police,” Arlena said excitedly.
“Wait a second,” Penelope said, placing her hand on Arlena’s forearm. “Let’s not bring up Max. I think we should find out more about Christian, find something that might point us towards another suspect.”
Arlena nodded. “You’re right.”
Penelope glanced over at the courtyard and saw a piece of yellow police tape stuck to the corner of the fence, left over from where someone had ripped it down. “We should act like we’re here to talk about modeling, and then casually slip in some questions about Christian.”
They climbed the steps together, Penelope holding onto Arlena’s arm to steady herself. She took small sips of breath to keep the pain in her side to a minimum. Arlena pressed the button for MUI and the door buzzed open immediately.
They walked through the foyer, stepping over a pile of mail that had come in through the slot on the door before entering the reception area of the agency. A rolling suitcase was propped against the bottom step of the wooden staircase in the foyer. The woman they’d seen in the window greeted them with a welcoming smile.
“How can I help you?” Her hair, pulled back in a low bun, was black with silver strands woven through. A cashmere turtleneck sweater hung from her bony shoulders and her pants looked way too big. Penelope guessed they were the right size, she just didn’t have enough flesh on her to fill them out. She eyed Penelope’s injuries with interest, then spoke to Arlena. “Looking for some new talent?”
Arlena looked at Penelope, then back at the woman. “Yes, I am. Sienna Wentworth recommended your agency.”
“Ah, yes, Sienna. She just had her debut, which I hear went well. I’m Joyce Alves, the director here.”
“Are you usually in the office on Sunday?” Penelope asked.
Joyce laughed quietly. “You know, it feels like I’m always here. Actually, I just got back from a business trip and had to come in to check on some things. You’re lucky you caught me.”
“Yes, we are,” Arlena said, removing her sunglasses. “Sienna is designing a collection for me and I’d like to hire some models for a private showing. I’m interested to see what you can offer.”
She invited them to join her at a causal seating area set up in front of a marble fireplace with two chairs, a coffee table, and a small couch.
Joyce smiled and interlaced her fingers over her bony knee after she sat down. “Of course. If you can give me some idea of what you’re looking for,” she glanced at Penelope briefly then back to Arlena, a glint of recognition in her eyes, “I can better recommend some girls for you.”
“There were only male models at Sienna’s show, but she said you represent a variety,” Arlena said. “We were introduced to one from this agency, highly recommended by Sienna.”
“Christian,” Penelope said, pretending to remember his name suddenly. “He said he lived here, too…invited us over for an after party.” Penelope drew Joyce’s attention away from Arlena briefly.
Joyce studied Penelope’s face calmly and said, “Christian, yes. Unfortunately he was involved in an incident over the weekend.”
“Oh? What happened?” Penelope asked, doing her best to convey surprise.
“As I mentioned, I’ve been travelling, but there was some kind of…well, you’ll probably hear about it in the news. He was killed, by a stranger, right upstairs. Some kind of break-in, I imagine. The police don’t know exactly.”
Arlena sucked in a sharp breath, feigning surprise.
“How awful,” Penelope said. “Were you two close?”
The woman shrugged and swept her hands out in a “who knows” motion. “Not particularly, but it’s still a tragedy. He was a good tenant and employee. We didn’t interact very much outside of work.”
Penelope frowned and decided to lie. “When we met, I’m pretty sure he said his name was Alves, too.”
The woman leaned forward and addressed Arlena, “Who are you, exactly?
I was under the impression you came here looking for talent.”
“I am,” Arlena said sharply. “But you have to admit that’s some story. If this isn’t a good time—”
The front door banged open, the glass vibrating in the wooden frame, and a young girl entered the foyer. She had several white plastic bags with yellow smiley faces draped over her forearms, the weight of them pulling at the sleeves of her sweater.
Joyce’s face tightened and she bit her lower lip.
The girl walked past the reception desk and froze when she saw the three of them sitting in front of the fireplace. “Miss Joyce, I’m so sorry.”
“Sinay, I’m with clients. Take that in through the back. And when you’re finished, bring my suitcase upstairs.”
“Yes, Miss Joyce,” the girl said, backing out of the room. She was frail with a dark complexion and her thick black hair was pulled into an unruly ponytail.
“Sorry about her,” Joyce said after she’d gone.
Arlena waved it off. “Now, how do I go about selecting my models?”
Joyce smiled. “We can set up an appointment for you to come in and see the girls in person.”
Arlena sighed and fiddled with her sunglasses in her lap. “I’m very busy, and I don’t want to make an additional trip for something so...” She paused, searching for the right word. “I really should just have Sienna deal with this, or maybe I can find an agency closer to home.”
Joyce sat forward in her chair. “Of course we can help you. As you may have heard from Sienna, we represent the very best models. You can preview headshots and videos of the girls walking, and then we’ll set up an appointment at your home, if that’s convenient, to confirm your choices in person.”
Arlena glanced down the hallway past the reception desk. “Perfect. Is there somewhere we can take care of that now?”
Joyce stood up, motioning towards the hallway. “Our conference room is right this way.”
Penelope pushed herself up with the help of the arm of the chair.
“This is something I can do alone,” Arlena said. “You rest here until we’re through.”
Penelope sat back down and watched the two of them head down the hall and through the doorway on the left. A minute later, the young girl appeared from the rear of the building carrying a tray with bottles of water and mugs of coffee into the conference room. When she reemerged, pulling the door quietly behind her, she hurried back down the hall.
Penelope stood up and winced at the pain in her side, which was now on the verge of becoming unbearable. She dug in her purse for the little orange vial of pain pills from the hospital and walked down the hallway, hoping to find the kitchen and a glass of water.
Sinay jumped when Penelope entered the room, her hands submerged in sudsy water and her back to the doorway. When she saw it was Penelope, she turned around quickly. “Oh, hello, ma’am. Can I help you?” She pulled her long sleeves down to her wrists as she took quick glances at Penelope’s injuries. She didn’t look at Penelope directly, keeping her gaze pointed downward or just over Penelope’s shoulder.
“Could I have some water please?” Penelope asked.
Sinay hurried to the refrigerator and eased it open, grabbing a bottle of water and handing it to Penelope.
“Thank you so much.” She popped one of her pills in her mouth and took a healthy sip as Sinay turned back to the sink, pulling her sleeves up and getting back to her dishes. Penelope noticed the bags she’d carried in had contained a few liters of soda and several boxes of ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese. She’d wadded the plastic bags with the smiley faces into a ball on the counter.
Penelope eyed Sinay’s narrow shoulders from behind and figured she couldn’t be much older than sixteen. She rinsed a stack of plates and several plastic cups, placing them on a wooden drying rack on the counter.
“So, you work here?” Penelope asked after a few minutes.
Sinay’s ponytail swayed against her back as she nodded, gazing at the soapy water. Penelope walked over to the counter and leaned next to her, looking at the side of her face. When she looked down into the sink she saw the girl had shiny marks on her forearms, what looked like an upraised rash on her dark brown skin.
“You should wear gloves,” Penelope said before taking another sip of water. “The soap might be too harsh for your skin.”
The girl pulled her hands from the sink and quickly pulled her sleeves down over her arms, water soaking through her sweater. She looked away from Penelope, holding an elbow with her opposite hand.
“Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” Penelope said. “Your name is Sinay, right? I’m Penelope.”
Sinay looked up at her timidly, pulling her wet sleeve away from her skin. “What happened to you?” she finally asked in a soft voice.
“I was in an accident,” Penelope said. “I got hit by a car this morning.”
Sinay’s eyes moved slowly over the bruise on Penelope’s forehead and the gash through her eyebrow. She reached up as if to touch Penelope’s face but caught herself, snatching her hand back to her side.
“It’s okay,” Penelope said, smiling. She held out her splinted wrist to show the girl. “I have a sprained wrist too.”
Sinay looked at the splint with interest and finally into Penelope’s eyes. “Yes.”
Penelope paused for a moment. “Yes, what?”
“Yes, I work here.”
Sinay had an accent, but she hadn’t spoken enough for Penelope to place it.
“Where are you from?” Penelope asked.
Sinay looked down at her scuffed sneakers. “Venezuela.”
“Wow,” Penelope said. “When did your family come here?”
Sinay kept her eyes trained on her shoes. She shook her head, stifling a cry with her hand.
“Hey,” Penelope said, putting her hand lightly on the girl’s arm. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be so nosy.”
Sinay wiped her cheeks and looked up at Penelope. “I’ve been here three years,” she said, just above a whisper. “My parents died when I was little. I’m going to be a model.”
“Sinay,” Joyce called from the doorway.
Sinay looked over her shoulder. “Yes, Miss Joyce.”
“What’s the matter?” Joyce said when she saw Sinay was upset. She came over and took Sinay in her arms, hugging her close to her bony chest. Giving Penelope a disapproving glance over Sinay’s shoulder, she pulled the girl away and held her at arm’s length. “Sinay, it’s not nothing. Tell me.”
“I was just thinking about home again,” she said quietly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Joyce said, hugging Sinay again. “Tell you what. Why don’t you go upstairs and rest for a while? Then we’ll have a nice dinner.”
Sinay smiled gratefully before heading up the back stairway to the upper floor.
After she’d gone, Joyce said, “Were you looking for something?”
Penelope held up her water bottle. “Yes, I found it.”
“We’re going to be a little while longer. You might be more comfortable out front in the reception area.” Joyce stood and stared at Penelope until she made a move towards the hallway.
“Actually, do you have any crackers? I’m feeling a little woozy,” Penelope said, glancing at the wooden pantry door next to the refrigerator. There was a latch over the door with a little gold lock hanging from it.
“I’m sure we don’t,” Joyce said, motioning towards the hallway once again. Penelope reluctantly left the kitchen. Joyce pulled open the refrigerator and grabbed a container of half and half and the sugar bowl from the counter before following Penelope.
As she passed the conference room, Penelope felt her phone vibrate in her back pocket. She glanced over her shoulder. “I’m going outside to get some air. Let Arlena know, please.”
Joyce nodded sharply be
fore slipping inside the conference room door.
Chapter 22
The sun was setting and Penelope felt the air taking on a chill as she stood on the front stoop outside MUI. She held Joyce’s business card by the edges, having plucked it from the holder on the reception desk on her way out. She pulled her phone up to her ear. “Denise, hey. Did you find anything out?”
Officer Gomez sighed on the other end of the line. “I talked to my partner back at the precinct. They’ve got Max under arrest for Christian’s murder, picked him up off an anonymous tip.”
“Somebody called and turned Max in? I’m telling you Max couldn’t have murdered Christian. Someone is setting him up.”
“So you say,” Officer Gomez said. “But things don’t look good for him right now. What we’ve got is him fleeing the scene of a crime, with the victim’s blood on his clothes. That’s strong evidence.”
“Did you find Christian’s gun?”
“Not yet.”
“Then there is still more to find out. Max shouldn’t have fled the scene, but what if he was scared for his life? To me, that’s more likely.” Penelope’s stomach did a slow turn and sweat broke out on her forehead. Her knees buckled and she sat down on the steps.
“Well, luckily for him, we’ve got a justice system in place where he can defend himself against the charges. With his money he should be able to get a good attorney.”
Penelope closed her eyes and fought the urge to get sick on the sidewalk. When she opened them again, she leaned her head against the railing, comforted by the cool metal against her forehead.
“Are you there?” Officer Gomez asked.
Penelope took a deep breath before responding. “Yes. Just not feeling the greatest.”
“That’s understandable. Are you resting?”
“No, we’re at Christian’s place. Arlena is inside the agency talking with Joyce Alves.”
“She is?” Officer Gomez said, a note of excitement in her voice. “What are they talking about?”
Penelope lowered her voice and glanced behind her to make sure no one was approaching the door. “Arlena’s acting like she’s hiring models for a private show, but we’re really trying to poke around to find out more about Christian.”
MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET Page 10