“Or stolen,” Joey continued carefully, “we’ll take the necessary measures to compensate you for your lost items.”
Nadia laughed sharply. “Wonderful news. I hope they’re ready to hand over ten thousand dollars, because that’s what I paid for my Birkin after waiting on the list for half a year to get it.”
Everyone in the room stared at her in stunned silence.
“We’re looking into it,” Clarissa said. “Procedure will be followed. If there’s been any impropriety, we’ll file charges against those responsible.”
Nadia balled her hands into fists and glared at them. Penelope saw her wince slightly at the tenderness in her wrist.
“I have both Arlena’s and your things in the car,” Joey said quietly to Penelope. “I figured I’d bring them over and save you a trip to the station.”
Clarissa glanced at him and her jaw tightened. He ignored her.
“Thanks, Joey,” Arlena said. “That was thoughtful of you. Nadia, I’m so sorry this is happening, but I trust Joey as much as anyone I know. He’ll find your bag.”
Nadia turned away from them and stalked out of the room toward the library.
Clarissa followed Nadia’s progress out the door as she spoke. “We’ll need her to come to the station and file a report on the missing bag. We’d also like you to sit with a sketch artist, Penelope, describe the suspects so that we can get a usable image of their faces to distribute.”
“Okay, I can do that,” Penelope said.
“We should get back,” Clarissa said. “If anything else comes to mind, we’d appreciate a call. We’ll see you at the station in the morning.”
Chapter 7
“This day went from terrible to downright awful,” Arlena said after Joey and Clarissa had stepped out of the kitchen door to get Penelope’s and Arlena’s things from the car.
“Nadia seems really upset about her purse,” Arlena said in a low voice. “I mean, I can see why.”
“It’s worth ten thousand dollars?” Penelope said in a stunned whisper.
Arlena nodded knowingly. “That’s on the low end, if you want to know the truth,” she whispered, glancing toward the hallway leading to the library. “They’re one of a kind, hand-made by one person. It’s a total status bag.”
“Do you have one?” Penelope murmured, pantomiming a purse over her shoulder.
Arlena shook her head. “No. I’m not sure I want one. I’ve read some things about how the animals are treated, and it sort of put me off. Plus, I can think of a lot of things to spend that kind of cash on before an accessory.”
A flash of motion caught Penelope’s eye through the window of the back door. Penelope saw Joey and Clarissa out on the patio standing next to a table. Joey had his hands on his belt and was leaning toward Clarissa. She had her arms crossed tightly and her head tilted slightly to the side while she listened to him.
Penelope kept her voice low as she watched them through the glass pane on the window. “I’m sorry about Nadia’s bag, but Sonya’s dead. And poor Mirabelle, what that girl has gone through today...it’s hard to imagine.”
“It’s a tragedy,” Arlena agreed. “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing,” Penelope said, continuing to stare.
Joey shook his head at something Clarissa said, then turned and stalked away from her, heading around to the driveway. Clarissa watched him for a moment then followed.
“I’m going to see if Joey needs help with the bags,” Penelope said, slipping off of the stool. She stepped into a pair of garden clogs she kept on the bottom shelf of Arlena’s antique wooden coat stand next to the door and went outside.
The air had cooled as the sun dipped almost out of sight. The scent of lilacs drifted over from the flower patch Arlena had asked the gardener to put in earlier in the summer. Fall hadn’t technically arrived, but it would be there in a couple of weeks. The evenings were growing shorter with each passing day.
Penelope followed the slate path around to the garage and paused near the edge of the concrete driveway. Joey was speaking in a firm tone, tinged with irritation.
“There’s nothing that says I can’t bring a witness their personal belongings myself, especially one who was directly affected by the events of the crime. Also, you could have told me before we drove out here you wanted Penny to come in and sit with the sketch guy,” Joey insisted. Penelope heard the trunk of his car groan open. She stayed just out of sight and listened.
“Of course, I want an admitted eyewitness to sit for a drawing, and you should too. Standard procedure is to have them come to the station and sign for their things,” Clarissa said evenly. “You want to do personal favors for your girlfriend, that’s fine. But don’t make it seem like that’s what’s always done.”
“It’s not a personal favor. It’s a courtesy to a traumatized witness,” Joey said.
Clarissa scoffed. “Call it what you want. I don’t see you driving any other purses around town.”
Penelope peeked around the corner of the garage and watched Joey rifle through the trunk. His jaw was tight and his expression dark. He pulled the trunk closed, hers and Arlena’s purses clutched in one of his large hands.
“You didn’t have to come with me, you know.”
“We’re partners,” Clarissa insisted. “I’m just pointing out this trip wasn’t necessary. The real reason we’re here is so you can do favors for your friends.”
“Look,” Joey said, his face reddening. “We’re working together now. For how long, who knows. Let’s try and get along. You can start by not selling out our department, assuming we have a thief at the station.”
“I don’t need to get along with anyone to do my job,” Clarissa said. “And neither do you. That’s what regulations are for.”
“That’s a great way to look at things,” Joey said sarcastically.
“Look, we’re going to work together fine as long as you don’t expect me to go outside the rules.”
Joey shook his head and started walking towards where Penelope was hiding. She turned and hurried to the back door where she kicked off one of her clogs. She reached down and pulled it back on, adjusting the strap across her heel just as Joey turned the corner, acting as if she’d just stepped outside.
The look of irritation on his face remained, but it softened when he saw her. He looked back over his shoulder, and seeing Clarissa hadn’t followed, set the purses down on the patio table and went to Penelope.
He put one hand on her neck and pulled her in for a kiss, slipping his other arm around her waist and holding her tightly against his body.
Penelope kissed him back, her heart hammering in her chest. Joey nuzzled her neck and whispered in her ear. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Penelope whispered back. She rubbed her cheek against his stubbly chin.
“You’re everything to me,” Joey said. “The thought of you getting hurt, or worse. I just can’t—”
“Shh,” Penelope said, kissing him softly on the lips.
“When are you leaving again?” Joey asked in a husky voice.
“Day after tomorrow,” Penelope murmured. She pulled away from him and looked into his dark brown eyes. “We’re staying and working out of the director’s house on a lake near Micklesburg, Vermont.”
“You know I’m going to miss you like crazy,” Joey said. “With us not having a full team at work for this case, it might be difficult for me to get away to visit this time.”
“I understand,” Penelope said. “Let’s play it by ear. I won’t be as far away this time, it’s just a few hours’ drive north.”
“Come and stay with me tomorrow night,” Joey said. “I have to work during the day, but I want to spend some time with you before you leave.”
“I’d love that,” Penelope said. She perched her chin on his shoulder
and closed her eyes, breathing in the fading scent of his soap.
The sound of Clarissa clearing her throat behind them caused Joey’s arms to tense at her waist. He reluctantly pulled away.
“Okay then,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll just bring your things inside, get your signatures, and then we have to get back to the station.”
“Okay,” Penelope said, wobbling slightly on her clogs.
Joey grabbed the bags and headed inside. Penelope followed him, glancing back at Clarissa as she reached the door, whose lips were pressed together tightly as she glanced around the patio and the adjoining gardens.
“Can I get you anything before you go? A bottle of water, some coffee?” Penelope asked.
“No thanks,” Clarissa said with a tight smile.
Chapter 8
The next morning, Penelope rose early and headed out for a run at sunrise. She went over the conversation that she’d heard between Joey and Clarissa the previous evening once again. It had kept sleep just out of reach for over an hour as she lay awake in bed. Despite her nap, she’d been exhausted, but her mind wouldn’t settle long enough for her to doze off. She didn’t want to cause Joey any trouble at work, or be looked on like she was getting special favors from him. She also didn’t know how or if she should bring it up to him.
Her thoughts turned again to Clarissa. Going by first impressions, she appeared strong and confident. Joey hadn’t had a dedicated partner before, at least not since Penelope and him had been dating, going on two years now. Penelope smiled when she remembered seeing Joey for the first time again since their middle school days, right there in her own kitchen. He’d been the lead detective then too, when she and Arlena had discovered a dead girl near their property. Joey had changed quite a bit from their middle school days together. Now things were getting serious between them, and Penelope thought how lucky she was, having come across her old friend again, and their friendship having grown into much more.
Joey had always worked on his own, it seemed to Penelope, only occasionally asking for backup support from the other detectives in his station. Glendale was a small town without much crime, but it was still a suburb of New York. Penelope supposed some coarser elements from the city could very easily leak their way into town, especially with the train station right there.
Penelope had purposely left her phone at home, not wanting anything to get in the way of a peaceful morning run, even her music or the encouraging mechanical voice of the woman on the running app she used.
Penelope increased her pace and ran down a side street, away from her usual route. She’d decided to go for a longer run that morning, since the following day she’d be travelling with her catering crew, and head back to work on a brand-new movie set. Her personal time was always limited when she was working, so she’d learned to enjoy it when she could. Once they got to Vermont, they’d have to shop for food, order supplies, and plan the first couple of weeks of menus for the cast and crew and lay out their kitchen and workspaces.
Penelope’s breath was even, and she fell into her comfortable faster pace, listening to the neighborhood around her wake up as the faint hum of traffic rose from the highway in the distance.
She took another turn onto Glendale’s main street, and slowed to a walk, squinting a few blocks down the avenue at Sonya’s cafe. Yellow police tape fluttered in the morning breeze, but otherwise things appeared as they always did this time of day. The streets were quiet, the morning rush of commuters not yet up to full force.
Penelope entered the coffee shop on the corner. “Good morning, Lois,” she said as she approached the counter. “Can I get a black coffee to go?”
“Sure thing, Penelope. You’re up early again today,” Lois said.
“Yeah,” Penelope said, biting her lip. “Crazy thing yesterday over at Sonya’s.” She looked down at the newspaper rack at the Glendale Gazette’s headline: “Sonya’s on Main Street Scene of Brutal Attack.” She scanned the first two paragraphs of the article. Her eyes fell on a photograph of Sonya, smiling in a checkered apron and holding a full plate of eggs, bacon, and toast.
“You have to ask yourself, what kind of a person does something like that? And with the children there. Poor Sonya. She’ll be missed.” Lois’s statement died away as she poured Penelope’s coffee and set it on the counter.
“Did you happen to see the boys they were looking for yesterday? You have a view of the cafe from here, right?”
Lois placed a palm on her wrinkled cheek and shook her head. “I’ve been trying to think on that and I wish I had. I saw all the commotion afterwards, of course, but nothing out of the ordinary beforehand. I told the officer who came by yesterday. Some neighborhood watch captain I am, right?”
Penelope smiled and pulled two folded dollars from the interior pocket of her running shorts. “Sorry they’re a little damp.”
Lois waved her off. “It’s on the house, Penelope.”
“You sure?” Penelope said, holding out the money.
“I heard you were there helping yesterday,” Lois said. “We need more people like you, less like them.”
“Them?” Penelope asked.
“You know, criminals who go after innocent people and their families while they’re enjoying breakfast together,” Lois said.
Penelope tucked the bills back in her pocket. “I didn’t do much, really. Just climbed over the fence.”
“Stop it. You were very brave,” Lois said. “I heard about how you tried to help them over. I only wish they had listened to you instead of going inside with him.”
The blush on Penelope’s cheeks deepened. “Well, you never know what you’re going to do in a situation like that. I’m glad it wasn’t worse that it was.”
“Me too,” Lois said with a slight frown.
Penelope shook her head and glanced back down at the article. She scanned it quickly and didn’t see hers or Arlena’s name mentioned, which she was grateful for.
“Okay dear, do me a favor and watch out for the crazy drivers while you’re out running. Kids today with their texting, and iPads, distracted all the time. More respect should be paid to your neighbors, you know what I mean?”
Penelope took a small sip of coffee to hide her smile as she pictured someone driving with an iPad in their hand. Although she was sure it had happened somewhere. “Yeah, I know what you mean, Lois. Thanks again for the coffee.”
Penelope stepped back outside and walked quickly down the sidewalk, holding her cup a little bit away so she wouldn’t spill any on herself. She slowed as she passed Sonya’s, taking a good look at the patio. The tables and chairs that had been toppled over the day before had been set back on their feet, but were scattered haphazardly across the clay tiles, not in the usual neat rows Sonya preferred.
A flash of movement behind the windows caught Penelope’s attention, and she squinted through the tinted glass, resting her hand lightly on the metal gate that she and the others had climbed over the day before. A shadow shifted inside, and Penelope saw a man move through the dining room and into the kitchen, carrying something large in his arms. A strip of reflective material ran across the shoulders of his windbreaker. Penelope saw the letters P and O before he turned, and assumed it was someone from Joey’s team, gathering more evidence inside.
Penelope sipped her coffee and took a few steps to where she and Arlena had escaped. A metallic taste filled her mouth and she looked away quickly, and tossed her half-empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can on the sidewalk. She reached out to hold onto the gate, a fingertip brushing a torn off piece of yellow police tape.
In the distance, the train horn blared. She crossed the street, slowing her pace as she neared the bench at the bus stop. A couple of commuters waited nearby to catch the first bus into the city, a man in a suit staring at his phone, and a younger woman in a transit uniform holding a thermal mug of coffee. Penelope stepped
behind the bench and grabbed the post under the bus stop sign, pretending to stretch her calf while she looked across at the cafe. She pictured herself and her friends at the table the morning before, and thought about the man who seemed to be watching them from this spot, right before the attack began.
Penelope noticed the bus schedule encased in scratched plastic on the pole. Running her finger down and over, she noted the times listed. A bus was scheduled to stop a few minutes before the time of the attack.
A large orange and white bus with the letters NJ in a circle roared up to the stop and the commuters rose from the bench and climbed aboard. Penelope watched them each flash a pass at the driver.
“Coming aboard, ma’am?” the driver shouted through the door when he saw Penelope lingering by the bench.
“No,” Penelope said, shaking her head. The driver started to close the door. “Wait!” she called to him. The driver paused and reopened the doors.
“Come on up,” he said in a hurried tone, flashing a glance at the watch on his wrist.
Penelope climbed up the first step. “I just wanted to ask, were you driving yesterday?”
The bus driver gave her a smile, his teeth a light shade of yellow. “Sure,” he said. “Who wants to know?”
“Did you hear about what happened over there?” Penelope flicked her eyes across the street at Sonya’s cafe, then to his uniform shirt where a small silver nameplate read KING.
The bus driver rubbed his chin and nodded. “Yeah, I did. Saw some commotion across the way, too. When I read about what happened in the paper I couldn’t believe it.”
“Did you see what was happening, Mr. King? That there was a violent attack underway?”
The old man shook his head, his expression hardening. “No way. I would have called it in to HQ if I’d seen anything like that. I report stuff all the time, suspicious folks all over the roads around here. I called in a drunk driver last week, in the morning!” Mr. King wheezed a raspy chuckle, then coughed into a handkerchief from his pocket.
Murder on the Rocks Page 6
