“Thank you,” Karen said, a smile breaking across her face. “I knew you’d help.”
Chapter 43
Penelope said goodbye to Karen and walked over to Festa, letting herself in the front door with the key. She heard voices coming from the kitchen and headed toward it, surprised to see all four members of the wait staff, including Regina, prepping the service area all dressed in their uniforms for the evening.
She offered a greeting and received a few mumbled hellos in response and a smile from Jeremy. “Ms. Sutherland, it’s been a while.”
“A day or two,” Penelope agreed.
“Feels longer than that,” Jeremy persisted.
Penelope knew he was making small talk, but didn’t know how much further this line of questioning could go. “Ava in the back?”
“No,” Christine said as she wiped down one of the large oval trays. “She had to go into town for something.”
“Okay,” Penelope said. “Hey, Regina, can I talk to you in private?”
Regina looked at her warily, then followed Penelope slowly into the empty dining room. “You’re back at work,” Penelope said. “I’m surprised.”
Regina shifted her weight and glanced at the bathroom door. “Let’s talk in there.”
Penelope reluctantly agreed.
“Look, I’m sorry about what I did up in your room,” Regina said. “I was pissed, and I wanted you to know it.”
Penelope nodded. “Okay. Does Ava know you were charged with theft?”
Regina sniffed a laugh. “Yeah, she knows. She hired me when I got caught stealing over at the inn. Nothing big, little things. Mostly change, cigarettes. I only got caught when I scooped up a money clip that was some kind of family air…air…something.”
“Heirloom?”
“Yeah.”
“But why does Ava let you stay? You know most places wouldn’t let you in the door. You have access to cash here, expensive inventory. Why does she keep you on the staff?”
Regina shrugged. “She and my mom have a deal. I can’t get fired. I’m not going to school, and like you said, I can’t get hired anywhere else, not like there are hundreds of jobs to get in this crappy town anyway.”
“What kind of deal? Who is your mom?” Penelope asked. She felt like she was on the verge of learning something valuable.
“She works at the bank.” Regina said. “All I know is she told me I don’t have to worry as long as I don’t screw up too bad.”
“What does that mean, Regina?”
“Like I said, I don’t know the details. Mom says she’s seen all the accounts. And that’s all I have to say to Ava to keep my job. Mention Herring – Steele, and watch her squirm. And I have to keep my job or my mom throws me out. I’ve got it pretty nice: she’s at work all day, I work at night. It’s not a bad house. I’m set up.”
Penelope put a palm to her forehead. “Okay, then. Hey, did you steal that check from my room?”
“Yep. It’s in a safe place,” Regina said.
“It’s not worth anything,” Penelope said.
“I saw it said that company’s name. Figured it was one more piece of protection for me.”
Penelope sighed. “Get back to work.”
Regina checked her eyeliner in the mirror and smiled at Penelope before heading back into the dining room.
Penelope walked past the group of servers again, the other three listening to Regina make up a story about what they talked about in the bathroom. Jeremy gave her an uneasy glance when Regina did her impression of Penelope giving her a talking to. The girl was quick to spin a cover story, that was for sure.
Checking out back for Ava’s truck and seeing an empty lot, Penelope closed herself into the office and turned on the computer. Logging on, she started opening folders she’d never gone to before, looking for anything resembling financial records for the restaurant. She was hoping to find a balance sheet or the check register, something to help her make sense of the different pieces of information she’d gathered over the past couple of days.
She found an out-of-place folder in the orders tab that looked promising and clicked on it. Her curiosity turned to excitement as the spreadsheet began to load, but faded when it asked for a password to unlock it.
Penelope tried her login first, which unsurprisingly failed. She typed in Ava’s full name, which didn’t work either. She put her chin in her palm and stared at the screen, trying to think what Ava might use. She thought about the Ava’s favorite wine with the swan logo and slowly typed Cygne Reseau. The spreadsheet opened and Penelope’s eyes grew wide. On the left was a long list of names, over a hundred at least, and dollar amounts in subsequent columns matching months. She scrolled down and found the entry for Denis, her eyes moving to the right, quickly adding up the amounts in her head. According to the sheet, he had contributed bi-weekly with a total reaching over seven thousand dollars.
Penelope clicked on the tab at the bottom of the sheet designated as the previous year. It contained a similar sheet with slightly fewer names, and similar dollar amounts filling columns every two weeks to the right.
“Where are the payouts?” Penelope muttered, clicking more tabs. The last one was labeled Remit and listed roughly thirty names with debit amounts in rows next to their names. The payouts that had been made to the investors didn’t come close to what they had put in.
A thump at the office door made the hair stand up on Penelope’s neck and she froze, listening for voices. She heard who she thought was the kitchen staff, coming in from out back, slamming closed the closet next to the office after putting their coats away. She drug her eyes back down to the screen and jotted down a few names. She contemplated emailing the spreadsheet to herself or to the sheriff, but knew that company email was monitored. Another thump from outside the door convinced her she should stop her snooping, at least for the moment. Right before she closed the program, her eyes found Jacob Pears. She scanned across his row. His entries added up to over thirty thousand dollars, just in the past three years. Penelope quickly hit the Remit tab, looking to see if they’d received any payouts in return. Confirming they hadn’t, she went back to the current sheet, scanning it quickly once more.
Her eyes landed on a number and she blew out a sigh. The office door opened and Ava appeared in the doorway.
“What are you up to?” she asked.
“Just putting a food order in for the set. Hope I’m not intruding,” Penelope said, clicking the mouse a few times.
“Of course not, help yourself,” Ava said, unwinding her scarf from her neck and hanging it on the back of the door.
Penelope slid open the top drawer to grab a pen, making herself look busy by jotting down some notes. She flicked her eyes up at Ava as she finished writing and smiled.
Penelope pulled into the driveway of Megan’s house and slung her messenger bag over her shoulder. She knocked loudly on the front door and greeted the housekeeper, Cynthia, with a smile when she opened it a few minutes later. “Just leave your boots here,” she reminded her when she stepped inside the foyer. Penelope’s stomach tightened as she looked down at the row of boots, some that must have been worn by Jordan.
Megan was in the kitchen, her bare feet propped on the bottom rung of a stool and a tumbler of juice on the island in front of her. “Penelope, nice to see you again.”
“You too. How are you doing?” Penelope asked. She settled herself at the counter.
“I’m getting there,” Megan said. “They say grieving is a process. I have to tell you, I do not like the process.”
Penelope looked at her with a sympathetic glance.
“Ava tells me the chef you found is going to work out perfectly,” Megan said. “We can’t thank you enough.” She took a sip of her juice and set her tumbler back on the counter.
“Yes, I think Paul will be great,” Penelope began. “Spea
king of cooking at the restaurant…”
Megan’s face tightened, but she didn’t interrupt.
“Karen is really passionate about it, and she shows a lot of potential in the kitchen,” Penelope began cautiously.
Megan’s spine stiffened, her smile remaining in place. She tapped her gelled fingernails lightly against the glass.
“She says she wants to be a chef, like her father.”
Megan sighed. “I know, and of course I want my oldest daughter to fulfill her dreams. But school has to take priority now.”
“Right, of course,” Penelope said. “But maybe she could apprentice on weekends, or intern at a spot closer to campus and come to Festa after graduation.”
Megan stood up and stretched, then walked around the island. She reached overhead and pulled out a matching tumbler, her sweater rolling up to show red stripes on her stomach from the waistband of her jeans. She brought the glasses to the counter next to the stove and Penelope watched her mix a cocktail, tipping several bottles over ice. Glancing at the clock, Penelope saw it was just after five.
“You really think Karen would enjoy working at Festa?” Megan asked over her shoulder. Her clothes reminded Penelope of yacht wear, something she’d seen in fashion magazines during the summer months.
“I do,” Penelope said. “I think she’s got the determination. She’s young and has lots of energy, which you need to be a full-time chef.”
“How is the life of a chef for you?” Megan asked. “Do you have a family?”
Penelope’s cheeks reddened. “No,” she admitted. “But I have friends who do.”
“I still think the perfect job for a young woman is a teacher, or a librarian,” Megan said, stirring the cocktail. “You’re home with your children, off summers, or work short days. What’s wrong with that being a dream?”
“Nothing, of course,” Penelope said. “But it’s not Karen’s passion.”
“She’s too young to know what she wants,” Megan said. She slid one of the tumblers in front of Penelope.
“I knew very early what I wanted. I started training when I was still in high school, matter of fact,” Penelope said. She eyed the drink in front of her and thought about the last time she’d eaten, hours before, and her drive back to the set.
“And your parents were okay with you doing that?”
“Yes, they encouraged me,” Penelope said. “Now I’m a business owner, doing really well.”
Megan sighed, considering.
“I guess there are worse jobs. Tell you what, I’ll think about it. If she wants to intern for a little while, on a trial basis, she’ll either take to it, or decide it’s not for her.”
“Right, a good compromise,” Penelope said.
Megan’s hair bobbed along with her head as she nodded and swirled her cocktail. “I guess if she ever does meet someone and wants to start a family, she can figure out what to do about it then. Hopefully she’ll marry well, like I did, and not have to worry about having a career. Cheers,” she said, taking a healthy sip from her glass.
“Thanks,” Penelope said. The smell of pineapple juice wafted up from the counter. “What’s this, a Greyhound?”
Megan laughed. “No, it’s a Wicked Game. Pear schnapps, mezcal, lemon, ginger, and pineapple juice. Jordan and I had them on our honeymoon in Guadalajara. We have…” she paused, and held her finger up in the air, “had them every Sunday, sun or snow, rain or shine, ever since.”
Penelope waited for Megan’s unexpected wave of emotion to pass, remembering too it wasn’t Sunday.
“Cheers,” Megan said again, urging Penelope to pick up her glass.
Penelope toasted Megan and took a sip.
“What do you think, Chef?” Megan said, a laugh on her lips.
“Yum,” Penelope said, taking another taste. “I’m no mixologist, but these flavors are good. I like the ginger.”
Megan hummed in agreement.
Penelope took a breath. “There’s another thing I want to talk to you about.”
Megan smiled and leaned on the counter, swirling the ice in her glass.
“What’s that?”
“I think Ava is running an investment program…scheme…tied to the restaurant, using Festa as a front. She’s selling shares in the business through a dummy corporation she’s set up.”
“Wait, what does that mean?” Megan said, looking alarmed.
“From what I can tell, Ava has gotten a bunch of people to put money into Festa, invest in what she calls futures, in anticipation of large payouts over time.” Penelope took another sip of her drink, pineapple strong in her nose.
Megan’s face became serious. “I don’t know anything about business, Penelope. If people want to invest in a restaurant, what’s wrong with that?”
“Because the majority of the money is going to pay Festa’s bills. And the small number of payouts she’s made are only going to the very first group of investors. It’s a classic pyramid, a Ponzi scheme. Ava is offering fake shares, but there isn’t going to be a payout for the people on the bottom of the list. They’re set up to lose everything they’ve put in.”
Megan stood up straight, her face flushing, either from surprise or from the alcohol. “I had no idea.”
Her face appeared soft, almost fuzzy around the edges. Penelope concentrated on her pink lipstick.
“How many people are involved?” Megan asked.
“A lot. Herring – Steele isn’t a real company. She’s set up a crowd-funding receptacle, but didn’t tell people they were donating instead of investing, or in reality funding the business.”
“How can we prove this?” Megan asked doubtfully. “This is why I never get involved in the business—it’s too complicated. Jordan and Ava run that side, I run all of this.”
“I’ve been researching. There’s no business registered in the state with that name.” Penelope blinked a few times, clearing her vision.
“And you’re sure about all of this?” Her words slurred at the edges and Penelope shook her head.
The bottles in the wine rack started to hum and the wallpaper turned overly bright. Penelope had a hard time forming her words, her thoughts falling behind. She tried to stand up, but couldn’t get her legs to do what she wanted.
“Oh dear,” Megan said. “What should we do now?”
“Oh no.” Penelope’s vision began to dim. “You knew.”
Penelope pushed herself up from the stool, resting her hands on the counter.
“You should sit,” Megan said, coming around the island.
Penelope shrank back from her as the room started to spin.
“Sit down. It’s going to be okay,” Megan said.
Penelope’s heart began to race and she slid to the floor, everything going black around her.
Chapter 44
Penelope woke to the sound of rushing water. She was in an awkward position, her legs cramped, a seatbelt holding her upright. She opened her eyes with effort, fighting the overwhelming urge to fall back asleep. Her arms were heavy and she had a hard time lifting her head. The sound of water and the cold damp soaking her jeans motivated her to try again.
Rolling her head onto the seat rest behind her, Penelope realized she was behind the wheel of her truck, which was tilted at an odd angle. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw blood from a cut over her eyebrow.
“Help,” she whispered hoarsely into the cab, unable to yell. “Help.”
The icy water inside the cab rose to her thighs, reviving her some more. She undid the seatbelt, feeling it fly off, the metal buckle clanging loudly against the window. Outside, all she could see was water rushing against the driver-side door.
“Help!” she called, louder this time, panic taking over. She crawled toward the passenger side, her legs tingling painfully, and reached across. She yanked on the door handl
e, pushing against the passenger door with all her might. It opened an inch, then closed. She felt the water rise farther up her chest.
She screamed again and kicked the passenger door, getting it to open a few more inches. The thought of Joey popped into her head and gave her the strength to pull herself to her knees. Her throat hitched when she saw a log hurtling toward the car. She closed her eyes and turned away just before it smashed through the window.
An icy wave followed the log inside, filling the car until there were only a couple of inches of air left at the roof. Penelope kept her nose and mouth out of the water and grabbed the door handle once more. Taking a deep breath, she ducked under and, with all her might, shoved on the door, almost crying out with relief when it opened. She swam toward the surface, her pushing her panic and exhaustion aside.
“Help!” she gasped after breaking the surface. It was pitch black and the water was numbing her from the inside out. Uncontrollable shivers took over and she worried she’d be unable to keep her head above water.
“I’m here!” Penelope thought she heard someone, then figured it couldn’t be. Her head dipped under the water and she held her breath, struggling to swim to the surface again.
Two strong arms hugged her chest, pulling her to the surface. “Hold on!” a man’s voice shouted as her body went limp in his arms. As he pulled her onto the riverbank, Penelope felt cold mud under her fingers and took long painful breaths of the frigid air.
“Let’s get you inside,” the man said, picking her up in his arms.
Penelope laced her fingers together behind his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you for saving me, Bailey,” she whispered.
Chapter 45
Penelope sat in front of the fireplace at the inn, still shivering. She clasped a mug of hot cocoa in her palms while Arlena gently rubbed her hair with a towel. The on-set medic checked her over, determining she’d be okay after warming up and resting. Bailey had called Marla from his campsite, letting her know he’d fished Penelope from the creek in the woods and to come get them. When she’d driven them down the trail to the inn, Marla and Arlena had stripped Penelope’s wet clothes off and wrapped her in warm blankets from the dryer.
Murder Is the Main Course Page 21
