The girl smiled sweetly. “I’ll bring it out to you.”
“Thank you,” Penelope said, thankful for the opportunity to rest. She felt stronger than the day before, but she was still functioning at about half her normal energy level. She took a seat at the most remote table she could find.
“Hello again,” Angel said as she approached Penelope’s table. She had a stack of magazines in the crook of her arm she had picked up from empty café tables nearby.
“Oh, hi,” Penelope said. She tucked her splinted arm under the table in a feeble attempt to conceal it.
“What happened?” Angel said when she got closer.
Penelope gave up and pulled her arm out from beneath the little round table. “I got hit by a cab right out there.” She pointed at the street corner.
“Wow, I heard about that. I’m so sorry that happened.”
Penelope smiled, offering a thank you to the barista who dropped off her latte.
Angel called to the girl as she walked away. “Would you bring my friend a chocolate croissant please?”
Penelope began to refuse, waving her away.
“I insist. They’re really good today, and you could use one.” Angel set the stack of magazines on a neighboring table and pulled her leather miniskirt down over her fuzzy pink tights.
“Actually, a chocolate croissant sounds wonderful,” Penelope said.
The girl returned quickly with two of the pastries on a chipped blue plate. Angel took the seat in the opposite chair and nudged it towards Penelope. “Go ahead.”
Penelope took a bite of croissant. The flaky crust and deep dark chocolate melted in her mouth, instantly soothing her.
“What brings you back to the scene of the crime?” Angel asked. When Penelope rolled her eyes, placing the back of her hand over her full mouth and shaking her head, she said, “Sorry, too soon?”
Penelope swallowed, laughing despite herself. “I wanted to see where I almost got taken out by a crazy person outside your store.”
“Now we have to figure out who done it.” They silently chewed together for a minute.
“Actually, I’m trying to figure out if I can trace Max’s steps before the other night. Before everything happened.”
“You’re losing me. Before what happened?”
Penelope looked at her. “Max has been arrested for murdering someone he knew, but I’m sure he didn’t do it.”
Angel looked surprised for a second, then nodded and took another bite of croissant. “What makes you so sure he didn’t do it?”
Penelope paused and thought for a moment, then said, “I know him, and I can’t imagine he would kill anyone.”
“Okay. But how well do we know anyone? Don’t you think there are countless people who’ve said the same thing about someone who actually did commit murder? I’m sure no one thinks a close friend of theirs could do the worst thing imaginable.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Penelope said, deflating. “But I feel certain about this.”
Angel finished off her croissant. “Maybe you’re right and he didn’t kill this person. But you’re only talking about your feelings. Do you have any way to prove what you’re saying is the truth?”
“Miss Sutherland?” Jimmy walked from the café entrance to their table. He seemed so out of place in his suit, surrounded by all the hipsters.
“Hi, Jimmy,” Angel said, standing up and giving him a hug.
“You two know each other?” Penelope asked.
“Jimmy’s one of my best customers,” Angel said. “You want the usual?”
“Absolutely,” Jimmy said. After she stepped away, he took her seat. “Security work, especially in a small residential building like that, allows for a lot of downtime. They don’t mind if I read behind the desk.”
Penelope lowered her voice. “Did you see anything on the video from last Tuesday?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Jimmy pulled his phone from his jacket pocket and swiped it to life, scrolling through a couple of pictures before turning it around for Penelope to see. Jimmy had taken photos of the monitor in the security room. The first picture was of Max walking through the lobby of his building, holding hands with a blond woman. She had her head turned away from the camera. Penelope thought she knew who it was already, and when she swiped to the next picture her suspicions were confirmed.
“Thanks so much for showing this to me,” Penelope said.
Angel walked back over with a ceramic mug of steaming coffee and placed it on the table in front of Jimmy. “Here you go, my friend.” She patted him on the shoulder and glanced at the phone in Penelope’s hand.
“Angel, was this the woman you saw with Max last Tuesday?” Penelope asked, turning the phone around for her to see.
Angel bent at the waist and squinted at the screen. She pulled her glasses up from her chest and perched them on her nose, widening her eyes again. “Yep, that’s her.”
“Wait a second.” Penelope pulled her own phone from her purse and did a quick search. “Are you sure it wasn’t her?” She showed Angel the screen with a picture of Hannah’s face.
Angel took both phones, holding them in each of her hands. She studied the pictures, then raised Jimmy’s phone up in the air. “This is the woman I saw with him in the store.”
“You said they were making out back there?” Penelope asked, glancing towards the poetry section.
Jimmy took a sip of his coffee. Angel handed him back his phone and he began scrolling through his photos again.
“Well, maybe not making out. Not with tongues or whatever. They were hugging, and she was laughing. It was definitely a private moment that I interrupted. Then she bought him the book, and they left.” Angel handed Penelope back her phone.
Jimmy’s phone rang. He stood up from the table, excusing himself. Angel sat back down opposite Penelope.
“Max and Sienna...I can’t believe it. Why wouldn’t they have said anything to anyone?” Penelope said, mostly to herself.
“Well, you said it yourself—Max has a girlfriend. I take it she’s not the handsy one from the poetry section?”
“No, it’s not her,” Penelope said. “But I also don’t know if Max’s girlfriend is really his girlfriend. Sometimes it seems like they’re just putting on an act for their reality show.”
“I love how they’re called reality shows when they’re the farthest thing from reality you can get,” Angel said, shaking her head. “If his costar isn’t really his girlfriend, why try to hide whatever he’s doing with this other woman?”
Penelope thought about Max’s show, and the fact that it provided him with a steady paycheck and a place to live. “Maybe it’s part of the show that he has to maintain this relationship. If that’s true, I guess he’d have to keep up appearances off set too.”
“And people ask me why I don’t watch TV or read those trashy magazines we sell out of every week. Give me a good ghost story anthology any day,” Angel said, dabbing a few croissant crumbs from the plate with her finger.
Jimmy came back to the table. “That was work. I have to get back.”
“Me too,” Angel said, noticing a line of people at the front register. “See you later, Jimmy.” She hurried to the front of the store to help her clerks.
Once Angel was out of earshot, Jimmy perched on the edge of the chair and his face became serious. “That was my boss on the phone. We’re supposed to keep Max out of the building. The show’s production company is reviewing his contract, something about a morals clause.”
“Morals? That’s rich,” Penelope said.
Jimmy grimaced. “I think they’re going to wait and see what happens with the murder charge, so they’re not throwing him out just yet. But the company wants to protect itself against any lawsuits from the other actors or issues they might run into by having an accused murderer living in the building.”<
br />
“Great,” Penelope said. “Just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse.”
Chapter 27
Penelope said goodbye to Jimmy and called Arlena from her seat in the café.
“Pen, where are you? I was just knocking on your door,” Arlena said.
“Where?” Penelope asked, confused for a minute. “Oh, at the hotel. I forgot you guys were checking in.”
“We’re staying on the floor above yours. Max is getting released around lunchtime, after they process his bail. The judge set it at two million. Max had to surrender his passport, which seemed to bother him more than the money. You know how Max is about rules or anyone telling him what to do or where he can go.”
“I know,” Penelope said, thinking about Sienna and her home in London.
“Where are you?” Arlena asked again.
“I’m in the Village near Max’s building,” Penelope said. “In the bookstore café next door.”
“What are you doing there? Have you found anything new to help Max?”
“Maybe. I’m not sure how it fits together yet, but I was thinking there must be a reason why Hannah turned on him. I’m not sure what I thought I’d find over here to be honest. Arlena, I know she’s your friend, but has there ever been anything romantic between Max and Sienna that you know of?”
“No. They’re good friends. I know they’ve been hanging out a lot while she’s been in town. Why?”
“I don’t know, I just started thinking about her and Max and Hannah. The lady that works at the bookstore next to his building saw them together recently.”
“They do hang out together, that’s not news. He’s been helping her with the fashion show. They’re not dating,” Arlena said with finality. “I’ve talked to Sienna many times over the past few months, seen her several of times too. If she were romantically involved with Max, she would have told me. Or he would have.”
Penelope was unconvinced but stayed silent.
“Do you have work today?” Arlena asked.
“Yeah, call time is five,” Penelope said.
“Are you feeling up to it?”
“I have to be. They threatened to fire my team if I didn’t show up with them.”
“What jerks. You want me to make a call for you?”
“No,” Penelope said a little too loudly. She lowered her voice back down to normal. “Thank you, but I can handle it. The guys need to get paid, and I can make it through. Luckily filming will be over soon. We have a couple more weeks at the most.”
“Come back to the hotel and rest before you have to go in. We’re going to camp out here until we figure out what to do. Max can’t go back to his apartment. Daddy hired a couple of security guys to keep any curious journalists out of the hotel.” Arlena said “journalists” like it was a dirty word. “You should have seen them down there at the courthouse. Like a pack of jackals.”
“Okay, I’ll check in with you later,” Penelope said.
Even though Arlena insisted there was nothing between Sienna and Max, Penelope knew how Max was with women. She wasn’t so sure. Arlena didn’t want Max dating her friends, letting him know many times that crossed a line for her. But she thought Sienna might be friendlier with Max anyway. Penelope finished her latte and thought about her next move.
Penelope took a cab to the V Hotel in Chelsea. When they pulled up out front, Penelope eased herself out of the back and looked up at the shiny glass tower, considering what she was going to say to Sienna.
As she walked down the hallway to the suite she saw a housekeeping cart outside the double doors, which were propped open with a vacuum cleaner.
“Hello?” Penelope said, wrapping her knuckles lightly on the door. A soap opera was playing loudly on the television and a pile of sheets and towels was in the middle of the floor. The smell of disinfectant wafted through the air of the suite. “Hello?” Penelope said, louder this time.
The maid emerged from the bathroom, yellow gloves up to her elbows. “Yes, miss, can I help?”
“Hi,” Penelope said, stepping inside. All of the clothes that had been flung around the room were gone, and the bedroom doors were open, the beds stripped bare. “Are they gone?”
The maid pulled off her gloves and muted the television. “Yes, checked out.”
Penelope glanced around the room, trying to think. “When?” she finally asked.
“This morning.”
“Do you know how many people were staying here?” Penelope asked. “It was the British woman and the blond man, and another girl, right?”
The maid shrugged apologetically. “I’m not sure.” She looked over at the muted television.
Penelope thanked her and left, deciding to see if she could get more information about Sienna’s abrupt departure from the front desk. She stepped back off the elevator in the lobby and approached the smiling woman in the green blazer. “Hello, can you tell me when one of your guests checked out?”
The hotel clerk looked at her a bit warily but agreed. “Let me see if I can help you.”
“Sienna Wentworth, Suite 1912?”
The woman typed on her keyboard. “Miss Wentworth has checked out as of this morning.”
“Did she say where she was going?” Penelope asked.
The woman looked at her with a confused look. “No, we don’t capture that information.”
“So she didn’t mention anything in passing?”
The clerk shook her head, glancing past Penelope into the lobby. “Is there anything else I can assist you with today?”
“Do you know the names of the other guests in Sienna’s suite? I’m curious about who was staying here with her.”
The clerk’s expression became closed. “I’m afraid I can’t give out that information. We value the privacy of our guests.” She sounded like she was reading off of the hotel brochure.
Penelope sighed and headed back outside, checking her phone for the time. It was already late in the afternoon, so she figured she’d have to head to work before long. She really hoped she could make it through the night. She dialed Arlena and left a message, asking her to call Sienna. Maybe she would be able to find out where she’d gone off to.
Chapter 28
Penelope shrugged her chef coat over her shoulder and carefully slid her splinted wrist through the sleeve. She thought about taking off the splint while she was in the kitchen, but worried if she hurt her wrist any further it would be too painful to continue working. Luckily her sleeve stretched over it without too much trouble.
After the security guard had unlocked the front doors and let her into the lobby of the Crawford, she’d popped into the ladies’ room to check how her makeup was holding up against her bruised face. Some of it had worn off, so she reapplied the cool liquid to her eye and up her forehead. She couldn’t completely cover everything, but wanted to hide as much of it as possible. Mostly satisfied with her appearance, she rode the creaking elevator down to the kitchen in the basement, rehearsing the story she would tell her team about her injuries.
The first person she saw was her sous chef, Francis. He stood in front of the elevator doors, carrying a stack of sheet pans from the rolling racks over to his station. He froze, his mouth falling open.
“What happened, Boss?” he asked, his surprise turning immediately to concern.
“Guys, gather round, okay?” She motioned the other chefs over. When they’d all assembled she said, “I was hit by a cab yesterday and I sprained my wrist. I’m okay. It looks worse than it is, but I’m going to need your help to get through the next couple of services.”
“You sure you should be here? We can handle things,” Francis said.
“That’s not an option right now. We committed to this job, and we have to stick together.”
They all agreed, and Francis said, “We got your back, Boss.”
&nbs
p; “I know I can always count on you guys, and that means a lot,” Penelope said, making eye contact with each of them. “Here’s the plan for tonight. They’re going to be filming until morning and don’t have a specific break time yet, which tells me they don’t know when dinner will be. I say we put out some of our best comfort food. It will get us all through the night and will keep well through whatever window they give us. Let’s do our turkey chili, a choice of soups, and we can do Francis’s Gruyere and Gouda mac and cheese he came up with on the last movie. And Red Carpet S’mores for dessert. They’re always a crowd pleaser.”
After they’d settled on the menu, Penelope’s team took their stations, chopping vegetables to begin the base for soups. They decided on creamy tomato basil, spicy black bean, and shredded rotisserie chicken with noodles, lemon and kale. Francis found three big soup pans and they got to work, settling into their familiar roles. The harmony Penelope found among her team in the kitchen soothed her, and she realized she felt safe for the first time in days.
Penelope took the elevator upstairs to check on the set, see where they’d be setting up for lunch. The doors slid open and Penelope realized the cameras were rolling, and she’d almost walked out onto a live scene.
“You mustn’t fret, dear. You’re the only man for me and you know it.”
A young redheaded actress in a vintage evening gown held a smoldering cigarette at the end of a long black holder, her hair sprayed into place in a series of silky waves. Next to her was an older man in a suit, seated in a tall leather chair behind a desk, eying her suspiciously.
The elevator door began to close and Penelope stuck out her uninjured hand to stop it, silently holding it open.
“Honestly, dear, I don’t know what gave you the idea about me and Randolph. It’s preposterous, I tell you,” the woman said.
“You’re a damn liar,” the man boomed. He stood up suddenly from his chair and swept everything off of the desk onto the floor. A fan of papers fluttered through the air and a water glass smashed against the hardwood floor.
MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET Page 13