The neighboring bedroom door was closed, Karen’s muffled crying coming from the other side. Penelope took a step closer and raised her fist, hesitating before knocking on the door. At the last minute, she decided to step away and give Karen her privacy. Just as she turned to go, Karen opened the door.
“Sorry, Karen,” Penelope said, startled. “I didn’t mean to intrude. It’s just your mom is making tea and I wanted to see if you’d like some.”
Karen put a tissue to her nose and smiled weakly. “Mom always makes tea when anyone is upset. Or cocktails, depending on the time of day.”
Penelope returned her smile. “That’s what people do, offer comfort with food and drink.”
“I’m not ready to come back down yet. Maybe in a while.” Over Karen’s shoulder, Penelope saw Cynthia, the woman who had met them at the door when they arrived, sitting on the bed, her hands folded in her lap, a tragic look on her face.
“Sure,” Penelope said. “There’s no rush.”
Karen came forward and threw her arms around Penelope’s shoulders, hugging her tightly. “Thank you.”
Surprised, Penelope hugged her back, rocking gently and letting her cry. She looked at Cynthia, who returned a sad smile. Penelope had only met Karen a few times before in Festa’s kitchen, but knew her well enough to know she was a hard worker and a good student. Jordan was proud of all his kids, but he said Karen was the one most like him. Jordan had named dishes on his menu after each of his children, and Karen’s entry was a golden root-vegetable bisque, one of the most popular dishes they served.
Karen gathered herself and pulled away from Penelope, then went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Penelope said quietly to Cynthia, still perched on the edge of the bed.
“You didn’t,” Cynthia said. “The poor girl is in shock.”
“I’m sorry, but you introduced Megan as Mrs. Foster downstairs. Aren’t you family?”
Cynthia took a deep breath. “I suppose I am in some ways, but I’m old fashioned. It doesn’t feel right to call my employer by her first name. I’m the nanny. I came to live here when the twins were born, and then the other two babies came along soon after. Now I mostly look after the house, but I still help with the children, even though they’re almost all grown now.”
“It’s good you’re here to help the family through this,” Penelope said.
Cynthia nodded and swiped invisible dust from the nightstand next to Karen’s bed.
“I should get back downstairs,” Penelope said. “Nice meeting you.”
Cynthia looked around the tidy bedroom and didn’t respond.
Penelope slid her hand along the polished wood banister as she descended the stairs. The trill of a phone echoed on both levels and Penelope paused, listening to it ring twice more before hearing Megan pick it up. Penelope continued her descent, her socks padding lightly on the carpet.
When Penelope entered the kitchen, Megan stood behind the counter, a look of disbelief on her face. Ava stared at her, her eyes wide and questioning.
“Okay, yes, I understand,” Megan said, the color draining from her already pale face. Her arm went limp and her hand fell to her thigh, her fist tight around the cordless phone.
“What is it?” Ava asked urgently.
“That was the sheriff,” Megan said. “They’re saying Jordan was murdered.”
The phone slipped from her hand and clattered against the kitchen floor.
Chapter 8
Ava dropped Penelope back at the inn a short while later, neither of them saying much during the drive back through Forrestville’s small strip of downtown shops. Penelope felt like someone had punched her in the stomach when she heard that Jordan was murdered. When she got out of the truck, Ava said she had things to take care of then sped away, peeling down the cobblestones back onto the main road.
Jennifer’s assistant director was sitting in the great room at one of the tables with his laptop open, his usual anxious expression amplified by ten. Penelope was grateful to be back at her temporary home, but he reminded her that Jordan’s death had made an impact on all of them.
“Jennifer around?” Penelope asked him as she pulled off her coat.
He nodded tightly, a wave of blond hair brushing across his forehead. “She’s in the suite, been holding meetings with the different department heads all morning. She’ll get to you soon, I’m sure.” He typed away on his keyboard, his hands lightly tanned, although faded from his weeks away from the California sun.
Penelope thought about what she would say to Jennifer. When Megan recovered and told them what Sheriff Bryson had said on the phone, she and Ava learned the coroner ruled Jordan’s death as suspicious, and that it could not be conclusively ruled a suicide. They’d be investigating his death more thoroughly. She made her way to the top floor and to the end of the hallway. The walls were thin at the old inn, and she could hear murmured conversations behind many of the doors.
Jennifer’s suite consisted of two bedrooms with a living room between that had been converted into the movie’s production office. The antique furniture that normally decorated the room had been stored in the basement, a glass-topped desk with visitor chairs and an oblong meeting table taking its place. Penelope could smell the smoky fireplace as she got closer. She rapped her knuckles lightly on the doorframe before entering. Jennifer sat behind the desk facing the door, staring intently at her laptop. A few members of the writing team were huddled at one end of the meeting table, the tapping of keyboards the only sound in the room besides the crackling logs. Jennifer’s eyes jerked up from the screen when she realized Penelope was approaching her desk.
“Penelope,” Jennifer said. “Can you come up with something simple for the crew to eat? Maybe some soup or chili so they don’t starve to death?”
“Of course. We’ll cook off the trucks until things are—” Jordan’s body being taken out on a stretcher in the kitchen flashed through her mind.
“Good,” Jennifer interrupted her thoughts. “I’ve been reminded by the union reps that even though we technically didn’t work today, they need a full day’s notice per their contracts to not have meals served.”
Penelope nodded. “I know that’s usually in there, but it’s not always enforced. Especially in unforeseen situations. Like this one.”
Jennifer waved her hand in the air. “Whatever. Just do what you can so we’re in compliance.”
Penelope cleared her throat. “Ava and I just got back from visiting Megan Foster.”
“I know,” Jennifer said. “I can’t believe what’s happening. Someone might have murdered Jordan? Who?”
“I have no idea,” Penelope said. “It’s a suspicious death.”
“They can’t think it was one of us,” Jennifer said. “Who would have a reason to kill Jordan?”
Penelope shrugged and Jennifer stared back at her computer screen. “They’re going to investigate all of us. This could really be the end. Officer Collins is downstairs, guarding the kitchen like we’re a bunch of maniacs on a murderous rampage.”
“Edie’s still here?”
“Yeah. And a team will be joining her soon. It’s a crime scene.”
“She thought it might be, which I guess is why she never left today,” Penelope said. “They’ll find out who did it.”
Jennifer looked at her doubtfully. “She’s pretty green, from what I’ve seen of her. And that sheriff, he seems like he doesn’t want anything to do with it.”
Penelope shook her head. “I think she’s new on the job, but Edie seems to be on the ball.”
“You have more confidence than I do,” Jennifer said. “This is a tragedy, and a mess on top of it.”
Penelope decided to postpone the conversation about helping out at Festa, feeling it wasn’t the right time to throw Jennifer yet another curveba
ll.
“I gather from my conversation with Megan I’m supposed to share you with Ava now,” Jennifer said.
Penelope couldn’t tell if she was perturbed by the request or not, so she stayed silent and waited for Jennifer to continue. “I know Megan. She’ll find a way. Megan wants to keep things going here for the sake of the community, and the people who work here. And also to carry on Jordan’s legacy. So, yes, you have my permission. I don’t have much choice.”
“Yes, you do,” Penelope said.
Jennifer sighed heavily and closed her computer. She leaned back in her chair and thought for a minute. “I understand where Megan is coming from. I can’t say no to her, especially with all she’s dealing with. Just don’t exhaust yourself. The last thing I need is for you to complain to the studio about being overworked or have you doing anything to violate your contract.”
“I won’t. And it’s only for a short time. Francis and the rest of my team are fully capable of running services on the set.” Penelope was still trying to gauge how Jennifer was feeling, with no luck. Everything was off kilter with everyone.
Jennifer raised her palms in the air in a “who knows” gesture. “It’s okay by me, then.”
“I’ll work fast to find a replacement,” Penelope said.
“It won’t be that easy to replace Jordan,” Jennifer said, brushing at something on her cheek.
“I didn’t mean literally replace him...”
Jennifer waved her off. “I know what you meant. But things are different here. Professional chefs aren’t falling off the trees, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Penelope nodded. “True. Jordan was here though. There has to be someone.”
“Doubtful. But good luck with that. I’m beginning to think coming back to Forrestville was a terrible decision. Like this is our fault somehow. Like I had a hand in Jordan’s death.”
Jennifer opened her laptop again and started typing.
Penelope backed away, dismissed.
Chapter 9
Penelope walked across the cobblestone courtyard to Festa, catching a glimpse of a few people in winter coats, huddled in a loose circle in the parking lot behind the inn. The inn’s jeep was in its normal place, in the last spot near the uphill walkway, the chips in the paint on the dark green grill shining silver in the fading afternoon light. Soup and chili would be perfect for dinner, and easy to pull off in the kitchen truck with things they already had on hand.
Penelope tugged one of Festa’s front-door handles and felt the double doors rattle against the deadbolt. She jangled the keyring from her pocket and picked out the bright orange one Jordan had made for her. She stepped into the foyer and pulled the door closed, locking it behind her.
The silence of the restaurant washed over her, the normally bustling dining room eerily quiet. Penelope moved through the dark-paneled room, glancing at the tables as she went, tugging on the tablecloths here and there, adjusting napkin-wrapped silverware on the plates, and making other minor adjustments to set the room perfectly. She eyed a half-full salt grinder on one of the tables and snatched it up, making a mental note to mention to the wait staff everything should be completely refreshed before they left for the day.
Penelope rolled the salt shaker between her hands, the clear plastic rubbing against her palms. She remembered Jordan’s infectious excitement when he got to work, always interested to hear how their day had gone. Penelope and her crew could have easily worked the entire movie from their trucks; they’d worked that way countless times before. But the inn’s kitchen allowed them more space and cut down on a lot of the back and forth with ingredients and dirty dishes. Jordan was generous to share his space with them.
Penelope thought back to an afternoon two weeks earlier, Jordan hurrying through the back door with a large parcel wrapped in twine and brown paper over his shoulder. He set it down on the counter and waved her over.
“You ever serve venison back home in New Jersey?” Jordan’s blue eyes twinkled as he spoke.
“Nope. I’ve never made it.” Penelope eyed the bulky parcel. “It’s not a popular dish back home.”
Jordan slipped off his sheepskin coat and hung it near the office door, returning quickly to the table and placing his hands reverently on the brown paper. “Then you’re in for a treat,” he said, excitement speeding his words. He grabbed a pair of shears from the metallic strip that lined the wall of the kitchen and snipped through the twine. The paper fell open, revealing a dressed side of deer.
“Wow,” Penelope said. “Where did you get this?”
“I shot him myself, yesterday morning.” Jordan eyed his prize proudly. “Local venison stew is tonight’s special. And I’m making sausage for weekend brunch from this guy too. There will be enough for your crew.”
Penelope nodded uncertainly. “I’m not sure how it will go over. I guess some will appreciate it.”
“I guarantee they’ll love it. You’ll see,” Jordan said, pulling the paper from beneath the slab. “Jennifer likes it, I know that for sure.”
Penelope laughed. Jordan’s confidence was beginning to sway her. “I’m having a hard time picturing Jennifer eating sausage, unless it’s tofu. I’ve only ever seen her eat granola and organic yogurt for breakfast. Maybe turkey bacon, but venison?” Penelope shook her head.
“Jennifer’s an LA lady now, I know. But she hasn’t completely changed. You know you can take the girl out of Indiana, but…”
“Yeah, I’ve heard the saying.” Penelope waved Francis and the other chefs over to watch Jordan break down the side of deer. He butchered the meat with a practiced hand, removing muscle and tendons and carving out perfect lean portions. He made it look simple and seemed to enjoy the role of instructor, pausing to explain what he was doing as he worked. Penelope took quick glances at her team while they watched intently, four young chefs from New Jersey, only one of whom had gone to culinary school.
Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, Penelope pulled herself back to the present, sitting at the end of the mahogany bar in Festa’s dining room. She placed the half-empty salt grinder down on the wood and stared at the crystals, which soon became blurry as more tears slid down her cheeks. She dropped her head into her hands and gave in to her emotions, crying for Jordan, for his family, and for his tragic loss of life.
Penelope’s phone buzzed in her back pocket and she considered not answering it, removing herself from everyone and everything. She swiped her face with her sleeve and pulled the phone up to read the screen, smiling weakly when she saw the name there: Joey.
“Hi,” Penelope said after clearing her throat.
“There’s my girl.” Joey was walking outside, the familiar sounds of traffic and mingled conversations in the background instantly bringing her home. “It’s not a bad time, is it?”
“It’s never a bad time to talk to you,” Penelope said, unzipping her jacket. She slid it from her shoulders and stood up, folding it over her arm. She snatched the salt grinder from the bar and walked to the kitchen.
“Are you okay?” Joey asked.
“Yeah, no. It’s nothing,” Penelope said unconvincingly.
“Nice try,” Joey said. “You found a dead body today. It’s okay to be upset.”
Penelope sighed and entered the kitchen, thinking about what to say. She placed the salt shaker on the kitchen counter and went to the office, crooking the phone under her chin and patting her pockets to find the keys. They fell to the floor and she scooped them up, unlocking the office with the red one. “You’re right. It’s been a bad day,” Penelope began. “And I feel all on my own. The police are saying that Jordan’s death is suspicious. He might have been murdered, Joey. They’re investigating.”
“Suspicious. That means they can’t rule it a suicide yet. They must have found something on the body to indicate foul play.”
“Like what?” Penelope asked.
&n
bsp; Joey blew out a sigh. “Could be a lot of things. Something doesn’t line up for them. Signs of a struggle beforehand, fingernail scrapings, bruises…”
“But those things could be there without it being murder, right?” Penelope asked. “How do they know?”
“The coroner can tell things,” Joey said. “If someone killed him, Penny...you were there right after, maybe. You have to be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” Penelope said. She wondered if she was safe then, being locked in a deserted restaurant alone. “Joey, if someone killed Jordan and tried to make it to look like a suicide…that sounds personal.”
“About as personal as you can get,” Joey agreed.
“I wish you were here. I’m not totally alone—Arlena’s here—but this place feels so cut off from everything.”
“I know,” Joey said. “Listen, I was going to wait until you got back, but I think we should talk.”
Penelope fell silent and her stomach dropped.
“Talk? No, Joey. No one ever says anything good after they say they want to talk.”
Joey laughed under his breath. “No, I don’t mean that kind of talk. A good talk.”
“Oh,” Penelope said, still uncertain. “Okay.”
“I’m just saying, I don’t like being away from you, Penny Blue. I want to be with you every day. I want to talk about how we can make that happen. Especially if we want to take our relationship to different levels.”
A flutter slipped across Penelope’s chest. “Levels?”
“Yeah, levels,” Joey said. “We’ll talk about the levels later. Point is, we should be together. I don’t want you going off for months at a time where I can’t be with you.”
Penelope sighed. “It’s part of the job, Joey. I have to go where the work is.”
“There’s plenty of work in New York. You know there is.”
Murder Is the Main Course Page 6
