Clarissa strode back to where they were sitting and placed a sheet of paper down in front of Joey. Joey’s face flushed red as his eyes traced the column.
“We’re going to have to talk about this,” Clarissa said. She leaned over and pointed out two places on the sheet, where the initials JB had been scrawled in thick black pen.
“What is it?” Penelope asked, craning her neck to see where Clarissa had pointed.
“Evidence log,” Joey said darkly.
“You signed out your girlfriend’s items on her behalf,” Clarissa said, her arms crossed at her chest. “You’re the only one attached to the evidence. You signed it in, too.”
“So?”
Clarissa leaned back over and slid her finger further down the sheet. “And here too. I checked this yesterday.”
“Yeah, I signed in all the personal items from the crime scene. Including the missing bag. Are you implying I stole it and took it to the woods to burn?” Joey said, raising his voice.
“I’m saying when bending the rules and not following procedure becomes accepted, others will follow. Junior officers, evidence clerks, anyone.”
Penelope shrank back in her chair, sorry she’d brought up the missing money in the first place.
“You’re out of line,” Joey warned. “This is a good unit. Nothing like that is going on.”
“We’ll see,” Clarissa said, turning her back to him and retreating to the elevators. She slapped the button on the wall and stepped inside before the doors were fully opened.
“Where are you going?” Joey raised his voice toward the hallway.
“Property room,” Clarissa said evenly. “I’m going to get to the bottom of this.”
“I’m sorry,” Penelope said after the elevator doors had closed. “I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
Joey sat back down and shook his head. “You didn’t,” he said finally. He looked down at the copy of the evidence log with his initials filling the columns. “And she’s right. Something strange is going on around here.”
Chapter 13
Penelope regretted not taking Arlena up on her offer of a first-class plane ticket once or twice while crawling through heavy traffic on the New Jersey Turnpike in her Jeep. Her newest chef, Tama, followed her in their mostly stocked pantry truck. Penelope noticed she kept the same distance behind her the entire ride, which made Penelope think she’d made the right choice in hiring the young woman. Attention to detail and focus were the traits of a great chef.
“Jeez,” Penelope whispered to herself as a sports car raced past them in the left lane, her Jeep rocking slightly in its wake. The driver had to be going close to ninety miles an hour, judging from her own speedometer. She flicked her eyes to the mirror to check on Tama again. The young chef’s expression was passively serene behind her reflective sunglasses, her arms stretched to hold onto the large steering wheel of the truck.
Francis and Lewis, the other two members of her team, rode behind Tama in the kitchen truck, which was essentially a high-end food truck with every appliance they would need. Penelope and her crew could cook anywhere they were asked to, which came in handy especially on more rural sets like the one they were travelling to now.
The heavy chemical odors of the city fell away, the light faded and the temperature dropped as they made their way farther north. By the time they’d crossed over the border into Vermont, Penelope had rolled the windows down, inviting the soft fragrant breeze of the early evening to flow through the Jeep. Her ears popped a few times as the trucks climbed higher, hugging the rocky cliffs as they wound through shrinking highways, eventually ending up on a narrow two-lane road. The sky was a brilliant orange with dashes of blue and purple, a few fluffy clouds a lighter yellow that reminded Penelope of delicate lemon curd. She gazed a moment too long then had to jerk the wheel, swerving back onto her side of the road after crossing the double yellow line. She focused on the road and decided to make something with lemon curd during her stay in Vermont.
The GPS on Penelope’s dashboard beeped and she took a turn onto an even more narrow road, the convoy behind following her lead. They climbed even higher, then the road leveled off, winding around an open field dotted with black cows, the lush grass at their feet appearing neon in color against their dark legs. They crossed a wooden bridge over a stream and Penelope tapped her brakes, then stopped as they arrived at a gravel driveway and a wide wooden gate flanked by wild blueberry bushes. Ropes connected to a pulley mechanism swayed in the breeze on both sides of the gate, which looked like it had been painted white many years earlier.
Penelope stepped out of the Jeep and clasped her fingers together, then stretched her arms over her head and bounced lightly on her tingling toes. She waved to Francis and Lewis who stared out of the windshield of the kitchen truck at her with bleary eyes, the engine idling loudly under the hood. “GPS says this is it,” she shouted to them.
“You doing okay?” Penelope asked after walking to the rear pantry truck. Her newest chef, Tama, was the first female chef Penelope had brought onto her young team. Freshly graduated from the same culinary school Penelope had attended, she had volunteered to drive the large box truck alone, even though Francis had offered to join her.
Tama gave Penelope a thumbs-up from behind the steering wheel. “All good, Chef.”
Penelope gave her a quick smile. “Okay, let’s park and check in with production.”
“Sure thing,” Tama said, revving the engine.
Back at the wooden gate, Penelope tugged on one of the ropes, pulling with all her might to swing it open. Finding it hard to budge with just her arm strength, she jumped up and hung from the rope, using her bodyweight. She drifted down and the gate swung slowly open.
“Need a hand?” Francis yelled, leaning out of the cab door.
“I’ve got it now, I think,” Penelope said, rolling her eyes. “I’ll let one of you close it behind us.”
The gate open, Penelope hopped back in the Jeep and rumbled over the long-rutted drive, small pieces of gravel pinging her undercarriage. A three-story house sat at the far end of the property on the edge of a large lake, the windows glowing warmly in the dusk. Penelope looked out both sides of the Jeep at the surrounding property, judging it to be at least several acres and dotted with a variety of wild growing trees and bushes. A honey sweet odor wafted through the windows, and Penelope breathed in deeply, feeling relief to be in such a pleasant place after their long drive.
Penelope led her team to the parking area at the back of the house where they lined their trucks up in a row. The rear of the house was lined with windows, looking into a spacious kitchen with a vegetable garden planted a few yards from the door. Penelope took a few steps toward the plants, noticing the netting surrounding it, presumably to keep animals away.
“Wow, look at this place,” Tama said as she gazed up at the kitchen windows. “It’s beautiful.”
“What’s that noise?” Lewis asked, slapping at something on his forearm. “Bugs?”
“That’s the sound of nature. Shh,” Francis said, tilting his ear toward the water.
“Sounds like bugs to me,” Lewis said, looking around quickly.
“Your ears are still buzzing from the road rumbling under the kitchen all day,” Francis said, waving him off.
“I hear it too,” Tama said faintly.
The house towered toward the darkening sky, the turrets on the top floor making it look like a castle from a story book. Penelope marveled at how she could already see a scattering of stars, even though the sun was still setting. Penelope listened to the sound of water lapping against the rocky lakeshore and said, “It’s so quiet, that’s why we can hear everything. No buses or sirens of passing conversations. That’s what we’re hearing. Nothing.”
Penelope couldn’t tell if it was exhaustion from the drive or the anticipation of their new movie set, but she
had a sudden feeling of serene happiness. A brief thought of giving up life in the city and moving to Vermont flashed across her mind as she and the rest of the catering crew walked across the soft grass and up the steps of the wraparound porch.
“Welcome, young travelers,” a man’s voice boomed from the shadows. He rocked gently on a bench swing near the back door, his bare toes pushing against the wooden slats. He jotted notes on a steno pad in his lap as they approached. The boards creaked beneath Penelope’s boots.
“Hi, we’re the set caterers,” Penelope said. An animated conversation from inside the house floated through the screen door.
“Cool, we’ve been expecting you guys,” the man said, standing up from the swing. He tucked the pad under his arm and the pencil behind his ear, then pulled off his weathered fisherman’s hat and motioned to the screen door. “I’m Thomas Truegood, one of the directors. Writers too...I’m in the middle of working out one of Arlena’s scenes. The other half of the Truegood Brother team is in the large sitting room. Go ahead and let him know you’re here. I’ll follow you in a bit.” He pulled the pencil from his ear and sat back down, squinting at the pad in the darkening light. Penelope and her crew pulled open the screen door and stepped inside the house, the scent of warm apples and cinnamon greeting them.
“Pen!” Arlena said, jumping up from a green wingback chair. Zazoo leapt to the floor from the same chair and scurried over to Penelope, his little body wiggling comically. “You guys made good time.”
A man in faded khaki cargo shorts sporting a long gray ponytail rose from the matching chair next to Arlena’s.
“Penelope Sutherland, this is Jeremiah Truegood,” Arlena said, placing a hand on his burly shoulder.
Penelope bent down and rubbed Zazoo behind the ears, then held her hand out to her new director. “Mr. Truegood. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
Jeremiah smiled as he admired her face. “We’re going to do great things together on this film.”
“We just met your brother Thomas on the way in,” Penelope said. Her team huddled silently behind her.
“My very talented brother,” Jeremiah said with a laugh. He pulled his gaze from Penelope’s and focused on the other members of her team. “We’re assistant directors, co-writers, and producing partners on every movie. Ours is a family business.”
“What’s it like working so closely with family?” Tama asked from behind Penelope with her soft voice.
“We’re two halves of a whole,” Jeremiah said. “Without one the other would fall. We’re lucky our dynamic works and that we’ve found success as a team.”
“Who’s the better half?” Tama asked.
Jeremiah threw his head back and choked out a laugh. “Well, I don’t know. I’d have to think about that. I like to say we’re equals, but he’s a slightly better writer than me. And I’m better with negotiations with executives.”
Penelope threw a glance over her shoulder at Tama, her lips twisted in a wry smile.
“The Truegood Brothers’ most recent movie won the Palme at Cannes last year,” Arlena said, her voice tinged with contained excitement. “They’ve made some important movies.”
Jeremiah waved modestly. “And some duds too. But the last one was a hit, as you know. Really it takes a massive team to build any successful venture. In film that includes the directors all the way down to the chief bottle washers.”
Penelope laughed. “I guess the bottle washing falls to us.”
“It does, but not you alone. Thomas and I aren’t just making a movie, we like to create a community, a family on each project. We’ll all be pitching in everywhere to help each other.” Jeremiah’s eyes sparkled and his voice hummed deeply.
“So, we’ll switch, and I’ll direct a scene and you’ll make canapés one day?” Tama asked with the same whispery tone. Penelope didn’t know Tama well enough to know if she was joking or serious. She stepped closer to her young chef and placed a hand on the small of her back, pressing lightly.
“Our newest chef has got a sense of humor, as you can see,” Penelope said breezily.
Jeremiah pulled at the whiskers of his graying beard and stared at Tama. Francis shifted his weight and Lewis cleared his throat, the universal signs of being witness to an uncomfortable encounter. For a man who wasn’t large in size, Jeremiah had a looming presence, his demeanor somehow imposing and inviting at the same time.
“You’re not here to simply feed the masses between takes. And there will be masses, at least some days. You’re here because Arlena believes you’re up to the challenge of nurturing our crew, providing our film family with life-sustaining fuel, nourishing our bodies and souls while we embark on this artistic venture together.”
Penelope glanced from Jeremiah to Arlena, taking in the expectant looks on their faces. A finger of unease slid down her spine, and she heard Lewis clear his throat again.
“We’re capable,” Penelope said confidently, despite her unspoken concerns. “And we’re able to provide whatever is required to nurture the film family.”
Jeremiah eyed them once again, his eyes resting a beat longer than normal on each of them. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”
“Penelope is the best,” Arlena said. “You’ll see.”
Jeremiah smiled warmly at his leading lady and took her slender hand in his thick rough one. Penelope noticed his fingernails were rough and bitten to the quick.
“Arlena, I trust you’ve found your suite upstairs to your liking?”
“It’s perfect,” Arlena gushed. “And Nadia is in the adjoining room, so it will be easy for us to work together each day after filming.”
“Penelope, you and your team will reside in the boat house during the shoot,” Jeremiah said, nodding toward the back of the house. The screen door slapped against the frame and Penelope heard the pad of bare feet approaching the living room.
“The boat house?” Penelope tried to picture what a place like that would look like, only able to imagine the canoe shelters at Central Park, with the ancient docks inside and the water rushing underneath.
“Yes, it’s out front on the water. Beautiful place to live,” Jeremiah said, motioning toward the lakeside of the house. Penelope looked quickly behind her then toward what she thought was the front door. Thomas entered the room, then leaned against the doorframe, tapping his pad of paper against his leg.
Jeremiah laughed. “So this is the front around here. The way facing the lake. That’s the back door,” he said, hooking a thumb at what clearly looked like the front door of any house Penelope had ever seen.
“Right,” Penelope said, laughing under her breath. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“You’ll get it in no time,” Jeremiah said. “Just clear the path of your previous way of thinking. Anyway, you’ll have your own space there, and it’s close to the main kitchen. There’s also a root cellar here beneath the kitchen. We’ve put up a bunch of vegetables from the garden.”
“Can we utilize the garden?” Penelope asked, excited about the option of having access to the freshest produce possible.
“Oh we expect you to,” Jeremiah said enthusiastically. He squeezed Arlena’s hand once more then gently let it drop. Zazoo sat at Penelope’s feet, leaning into her leg, listening to the conversation in the room.
“We’ll go over more details when we all meet for our first dinner together this evening, but just to get your thoughts rolling in the right direction, on this film we’re running a green, environmentally respectful set. That’s going to impact all of us in lots of ways, and alter how many of us are used to working. It will be an adjustment, but worth it to create a set with next to no waste, and a smaller than normal carbon footprint.”
A mounting sense of unease fluttered through Penelope’s stomach when she ran through the list of items that might clash with an environmentally friendly s
et and what they’d already brought with them from the city.
“I have faith in you all,” Jeremiah said, opening his arms to his guests.
“I’ll show you to your quarters,” Thomas offered from the doorway. He walked over and handed the pad of paper to his brother, pointing briefly at something on the page. They nodded to each other, but said nothing.
Thomas led Penelope and her team back out to the porch, then across the mossy lawn toward the lake. A dock with several boats bobbing alongside it jutted out into the blue-green water. On the left sat a boathouse on stilts, designed to also match the main house, but obviously built many years later.
Thomas shook out his keys and opened the front door, ushering Penelope and her team inside.
“There are two large suites, with two double beds each, and their own bathrooms,” he said, lifting his long tan arms at each end of the sitting area. His eyes fell on Tama for a second, who had her long thin arms wrapped around her torso. “Hopefully it’s comfortable. You don’t mind sharing, do you?”
Tama gave him a tired smile and shook her head.
Thomas lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Most of the rest of the cast and crew will be staying up at the main house. A few people are going to camp on the grounds. Extras will just meet for the day, so they get one meal on set, no lodging.”
“What’s the average headcount per day?” Penelope asked.
Thomas rubbed the silver stubble on his cheek. “Eighty people, most days.”
“We can handle that number easily,” Penelope said, already strategizing the opening day menu in her mind. Jeremiah’s comments about running a green set came back to her and her thoughts shifted.
“Perfect,” Thomas said. “I’ll get you a list of local farms and approved vendors you can order from. He pulled a set of keys attached to a plastic fob in the shape of Vermont from his jeans and handed them to Penelope.
The sound of a motor boat floated in through the open window. “It’s very peaceful here,” she finally said.
Murder on the Rocks Page 9
