“Thanks,” Meredith said. She went back inside, the door slamming behind her.
“Did you get a new message?” Joey asked. “Another picture of Abigail?”
“No, it’s a text from Doyle,” Penelope said. “Abigail wasn’t at the apartment. Or Derek either. But the murder weapon was—the serrated knife used in both killings.”
“Who is Derek?” Joey asked.
“He’s a bartender at the Tavern,” Penelope said.
Another message came through as she was putting her phone away. It was just one word: Pickles.
Chapter 64
Penelope and Joey walked to the homeless shelter on the corner and glanced inside the door.
“I’m not sure what’s going on,” Penelope said. “But that’s Brandi’s code word.”
Joey reached around to his waistband and felt his concealed weapon there. “Let’s think it’s nothing, but be ready for anything.”
Penelope pulled open the door and Brandi gave her a small nod and stood up from her chair.
“Miss Penelope,” Brandi said. “Did you bring us more steaks? We sure did enjoy that last batch. Who’s your friend?” Her eyes slid to the common room and back to Penelope.
Penelope glanced over too and saw a familiar jacket. The person’s back was to her as they looked up at the television screen. Someone else was sitting in a nearby chair, but otherwise the space was empty.
“This is my…” Penelope began, “sous chef. Joseph.”
“Okay,” Brandi said.
The man in the common room turned toward them, his wiry beard and hood obscuring his face.
“I was thinking, we needed to thank you for your generosity,” Brandi said. She stared, talking faster.
Joey wandered over to the common area, pretending like he was interested in something on the television. A police siren sounded outside and the man in the hoodie turned around to face the door.
Penelope caught a flash of his eyes right before he bolted, running hard into Joey and pushing him away. Penelope pressed herself against Brandi’s desk.
“I told you it was him!” Brandi shouted as he banged through the front door.
Penelope and Joey followed him through the door. The man darted around slower moving people on the sidewalk, his tarp coat billowing out around him.
“He’s heading for the theater,” Penelope said, picking up her pace. Her breath was short, and even though she was a regular runner, the sprint was taking the wind out of her quickly. Joey huffed beside her.
The man ducked into the alley behind the theater and disappeared from their sight. When Penelope neared the entrance, she startled a woman who turned around quickly and accidentally struck Penelope in the face with her umbrella.
“Some street person just ran inside, Boss,” Francis said, a covered hotel pan in his hands. “Right in through the back door.”
“Stay out here,” Penelope said. “That’s the guy who stabbed me.”
A police car pulled up behind them and Detective Doyle got out. “Hold up,” he shouted, but Penelope was already through the door.
Chapter 65
The theater was filling with patrons, and the orchestra warming up. The dressing rooms were abuzz with activity and dancers rushed to and fro. Wardrobe was calling to the individual dancers to line up for costume inspections. Martha was shouting last minute words of encouragement to her girls.
“What is going on?” Armand demanded when he saw Penelope rush through the curtains and onto the stage. The outer one was still drawn across the stage, so they were hidden from the audience.
Penelope huffed and held up her injured arm. “The man who attacked me is in this theater somewhere.”
“I haven’t seen anyone,” Armand said, looking around in alarm.
Penelope looked up and pointed at the scaffolding above their heads. “He’s there.”
“Oh my,” Armand said. “We can’t have that, not for a minute. We’re about to draw the curtain.”
Joey ran to the nearest ladder and began to climb. Penelope went to follow him.
“Wait,” Detective Doyle shouted behind her. “You stay put.”
Penelope thought about ignoring him, but then She got down from the ladder and stepped back.
“He’s heading for the office,” Penelope said, pointing. Joey was a few feet under him and catching up.
“I see him,” Doyle said. He pulled his radio from his belt and spoke into it quickly.
Just then the man stopped and gazed down at them. He raised his arms out to each side, as if he was about to take flight, then brought them down and tore off his jacket. It fell to the ground near Doyle’s feet.
Pausing on one of the catwalks, he then stepped out of his boots and pulled off his socks.
“What’s he doing?” Joey asked. “A strip tease?”
A couple of uniformed officers joined them on the stage, and most of the dancers stood off to the side, all of the chattering and activity coming to silence as they watched the homeless man remove his pants, then his shirt.
“He’s wearing one of our costumes,” one of the dancers said.
Penelope stared transfixed as he began tugging on his hair, flinging a long wig to the ground, and then shed his long scraggly beard.
“Abigail!” Penelope said. “Abigail, you’re safe! Come down.”
Abigail smiled sadly down at them, then twirled once around in a perfect pirouette, the pulled herself up on the railing, teetering on the narrow board.
A few gasps escaped the group of dancers. “She’s going to fall,” one of them murmured.
“Abigail,” Martha said, stepping toward the center of the stage. “Please come down and let’s talk about it.”
“I can’t talk to you,” Abigail shouted. “You don’t listen.”
“Please, dear,” Martha said. “It’s going to be okay. Come down please.”
Joey had paused at the catwalk beneath Abigail after she’d stepped up on the rail. Two of Doyle’s officers had made their way to Armand’s office, and were attempting to climb down to her from the balcony.
Abigail stepped back down to the catwalk and knelt down, throwing aside a piece of curtain. She turned back around, a glimmering tiara in her hands.
“It’s my crown,” Meredith said. “What’s she doing with it?”
Abigail slipped the Christmas tree headdress on and adjusted it, her wavy blonde hair falling in waves over her shoulders. Her eye was still blackened, and her cheeks bruised, as if from a beating. Penelope hoped it was just stage makeup, maybe part of her disguise.
Doyle mumbled to another officer who hurried away.
“Okay, Abigail, we see you now,” Doyle said. “It’s time to come down from there. Come on, now.”
Abigail smiled down at him. “What is the point of coming down? I’ve lost my spot, the one I’ve worked for my whole life.”
“You didn’t lose it,” Martha said. She clasped her hands together and held them up toward Abigail, begging her. “You can stay here, my dear. Of course you can.”
“You cut me from the show,” Abigail said. “Because I wasn’t getting better fast enough. And I took that job, for just one day.”
“You did what?” Armand asked Martha.
“I wasn’t available for rehearsal, so I was cut from the show,” Abigail said. “I’ve lost everything. I never should have come here.”
“Look, if you come down now, we can work something out,” Martha said. Armand looked at her like she’d lost her mind.
“We want you to stay here with us,” Martha pleaded.
“Lie,” Abigail said. “There are ten girls behind me, waiting to fill the spot. Dancing, and everywhere else. Pay the ransom and I’ll leave.”
“My dear, you must come down, show or no show,” Armand said. “Stop this nonsense now. I
t’s not safe up there, and you know that.”
“Yes, Mr. Wagner,” Abigail said. “We all know how safe you like to keep your dancers.”
Armand’s face reddened. “Of course I do. What are you implying?”
“You dropped her on purpose,” Abigail said.
“The girl is obviously gone mad,” Armand said to Doyle. “She’s talking nonsense.”
“You dropped her. She died right here on this stage,” Abigail said. She grabbed onto one of the railings and hoisted herself back onto the ledge of the scaffolding. “I know the whole story.”
Joey looked down at Doyle, who motioned for him to stay put.
“You know nothing,” Armand said. “It was an accident.”
“Step back off the railing, Abigail,” Doyle said. “It’s too dangerous.” He looked around the stage at all of the group of onlookers.
“Nobody cares if I get hurt,” Abigail said. She took her hand from the railing and Penelope’s stomach lurched. “One injury and I’m taken off the A line. Dream over.”
“We’ve got Derek down at the station,” Doyle said. “He told us what happened.”
Abigail faltered. “It wasn’t me. It’s his fault! If he hadn’t…she was my friend, my one friend here. If he hadn’t dropped me for her…and you,” she glared at Martha, “hadn’t dropped me for her…none of this would’ve happened.”
“Abigail, we can figure this out,” Penelope urged. “I know you cared about Elspeth.”
“You mean Cassie?” Abigail asked. “I’m not going to jail because of him. He killed them both, it wasn’t me.”
Abigail smiled sadly and spread her arms wide, swan diving off of the scaffolding toward stage. Joey reached out to grab for her, his fingers grazing her calf as she fell past him.
Screams erupted from the group of onlookers as Abigail bounced onto the curtain, pulled tight by the police officer and members of the orchestra.
Chapter 66
“How did you guess the bartender knew Abigail?” Joey asked. They were sitting on the bumper of the kitchen truck, their knees touching.
“I didn’t,” Penelope said. “I saw the coaster from the Tavern, the same one that Elspeth swiped from his bar. I went there to ask him if Abigail had ever been in there before, and who she might have been with. I was trying to find her.”
A police car idled in the alley. Abigail was inside, her head hanging toward her lap, her shoulders shuddering.
“Why kill Cassie?” Joey asked.
Detective Doyle stepped out from the theater, the sound of loud Christmas music following him through the door. It slammed shut behind him. “Jealousy,” he said. “Derek slept with Cassie up there,” he tossed a glance at the apartment building across the street. “Abigail was supposed to be gone at an audition but felt sick and came home. An argument happened, and Cassie was knocked unconscious. Cassie did the strangling, Derek used a kitchen knife to stab her. They’re both on the hook.”
“Why would he go along with it?” Joey asked.
Detective Doyle looked at him darkly. “He hasn’t told the whole story to us yet, but there was an…incident involving the two of them and a classmate back home. Sexual assault, supposedly done by Derek, but the charges didn’t stick. Abigail knows about two others. When those are proven, he’ll go down for all three, hopefully.”
“How could she cover for him like that?” Penelope asked, her stomach turning.
“You got me,” Doyle said, a sour look on his face. “But she held it over him, got him to do things. He’s given a statement, confessing to the murders and her role in both.”
“When Abigail found them together, she snapped. I get the feeling he did a lot of things behind her back but with Cassie, that was the last straw. The victims back home were Abigail’s friends too. Coupled with Cassie taking the spot Abigail wanted in dance troupe…she snapped.”
“I can’t believe they’re putting on a show right now,” Joey said, shaking his head.
“I don’t know what it would take for them not to,” Penelope said.
“What was all that business about Armand dropping someone?” Doyle asked.
“It’s in the ledger for that year, 1975. Many of the photos are missing because it was an abbreviated year. She was injured in a fall, some blamed her partner, Armand. He did not dance again after that but took over the management of the theater.”
“Was it Abigail who attacked Armand and the light tech too?” Joey asked.
“It would have to be,” Penelope said.
“Unless it was the Bainbridge ghost,” Joey said. Penelope rolled her eyes at him.
“The real Bainbridge. Gabby. Mother…why would she kill Mother?” Joey asked.
“Mother figured out Cassie’s true identity,” Doyle said.
“The names on the business card,” Penelope said with a nod. “Connor and Chadwick…are not the same person. She recognized Cassie.”
“Mother and Abigail’s grandmother went to nursing school together. Mother was a nurse in Vietnam.”
“The medal I found,” Penelope said, “was hers all along.”
Chapter 67
Up in the suite, Penelope and Joey sat at the main table and waited for Arlena to finish her phone conversation.
“Problems with the new assistant?” Penelope asked when she hung up.
Arlena sat down and spun the phone around on the wood in a circle. “Did you send that paperwork to the accountant yet?”
“No, I was going to drop it in the mail on the way home,” Penelope said.
“Don’t,” Arlena said. “She can’t come in today because she has an audition, something she can’t pass up.”
Penelope crossed her arms over her chest and kept her face neutral. “I might have someone for you to consider hiring.”
“Really? Well, bring them on,” Arlena said.
Penelope pulled out her phone and typed the word “pickles.”
The door to the suite opened and Sybil entered with the kids, all of them carrying large shopping bags from Steiners.
“There you are,” Sybil said, setting down the packages. She knelt down and riffled through one, pulling out a box. “I got something for you.”
Arlena looked behind her and then back at Sybil. “For me?”
“Yes, dear,” Sybil said, handing her the box.
“It’s not Christmas yet,” Arlena said.
“Oh, go on and open it,” Sybil insisted.
Arlena carefully removed the top of the box and pulled out a t-shirt. She held it up and laughed. “I love this.” The shirt black with big block letters that read: Director. In Charge.
“I saw it and thought of you,” Sybil said. Arlena tucked the shirt back into the box then went to Sybil and gave her an awkward hug.
Penelope went into the bedroom of the suite and found Jackson and Dakota on the bed. Dakota was singing to herself and twisting a strand of her long hair in her finger. Jackson stared at his tablet, pretending not to notice Penelope.
“Jackson,” Penelope said.
He sighed and set the tablet down on the comforter next to him. “Yes?”
“I’m going to ask you a favor,” Penelope whispered.
His face grew serious and he sat up to face her.
“Stop sending gossip about the family to Candy MacNamera, okay?” She flicked her eyes to Dakota, who wasn’t interested in their conversation.
Jackson began to protest, then relented. “Okay,” he whispered back.
“Your mom is very happy with Randall,” Penelope said. She placed a hand on his knee and squeezed. “But she’s always going to be your mom first. That’s how it works. She loves him, but she’ll always have a special kind of love for the two of you.”
“I know,” Jackson sighed. “I just want things to be like they were.”
�
��We can’t keep things from changing, buddy,” Penelope said. “But you know what? Change can be really amazing.”
“I guess you’re right,” Jackson said.
“Also,” Penelope said, “I’ll get to see you guys all the time. And we can have some epic ice cream sundae parties up at the house.”
Jackson smiled, the first one she’d seen in a long time. “That sounds cool.”
“Great,” Penelope said.
Jackson hugged her, then laid back down and picked up his iPad.
Chapter 68
Penelope entered the station and waited for Doyle to come through to the reception area to meet her. The front security booth had been decorated with red and gold garland, and a few Christmas balls were hanging from it.
“Penelope,” Doyle said, leaning out of the door. “Come on back.”
“Thanks for calling,” Penelope said as she settled into the visitor chair. “What did you want to show me?”
“Since you were so helpful with the business at the theater,” Doyle said. “I thought I’d do you a favor and take another look at my partner’s bottom drawer file.”
“You’re investigating Richard Sotheby’s murder?” Penelope asked.
Doyle leaned back in his chair and reached for a manila folder behind him. “Well, looking into.” He set it down on the desk and motioned for her to open it.
The same wedding photo Mrs. Sotheby had framed and put over her fireplace was in the file, and a series of reports, interviews, notes and lists.
“A double homicide gone cold,” Doyle said. “They’re not the easiest to crack.”
Penelope read through the suspect list, not recognizing any names at first. “Wait…Aaron Beckwith?” She pointed at an entry halfway down the list of a dozen names. “I’ve heard of him. He was connected with Arlena’s grandmother somehow.”
“He owned the building the bodega was in,” Doyle said with a nod. “His company owned several of the buildings in Midtown at the time, still do.”
MURDER WITH ALL THE TRIMMINGS Page 21
