“Slight hypothermia,” the medic said, taking another look at Penelope’s fingers. Bailey and Regina sat together at a nearby table, watching Penelope and drinking their own mugs of hot chocolate. Marla came up from the basement with freshly warmed blankets thrown over her arm and fussed over Penelope, swapping out the cooled ones and draping fresh ones around her.
“Thank you, Marla,” Penelope said, still shivering. “And thanks for calling the sheriff.”
“You’ll get warm soon,” Marla said abruptly. “More cocoa?”
Penelope nodded and she bustled away, bumping into Sheriff Bryson in the doorway.
“So, you got lost in the woods and ended up in the river?”
“Hello to you too, Sheriff,” Marla scolded.
The sheriff looked at her sheepishly. “Sorry, Marla. It’s been a rough week.”
“You’re telling me,” she said, hurrying away.
The medic left after giving Arlena instructions.
“I was drugged. By Megan Foster. She served me a Wicked Game. Pineapple juice!” Penelope shouted. Everyone turned to look at her.
“What?” Sheriff Bryson asked.
“She said that was their special drink. Jordan had pineapple juice in his stomach when he died. Megan drugged him and strangled him. If he was lying on his stomach on the floor, she would put her knees on the small of his back and pull the rope. That’s what made those bruises.”
Everyone stared silently at Penelope.
“I’m not crazy. That’s what happened. Megan drugged me the same way she drugged Jordan, then she drove me to the river to make it look like I had an accident and drowned.”
“This is so hard to believe,” Sheriff Bryson said. “This kind of thing doesn’t happen here.”
Penelope’s eyes flashed. “You can’t say that anymore, because it does. You know I’m right. This is what she does…drugs people and stages accidents, or suicides.”
Bailey raised his hand from his seat at the table.
“Yes, son?” the sheriff asked.
He shook his head. “It wasn’t Mrs. Foster in the truck. It was Ava.” Regina nodded as he spoke. “We saw her drive by.”
“Can you help me get dressed?” Penelope asked Arlena. “And I have to stop by Sybil’s suite too.”
Chapter 46
“Ava,” Penelope said. She stood at Festa’s bar, holding onto one of the stools for support. Jeremy stared at her after he called back to the office to summon Ava to the floor.
“Penelope, are you okay?” Ava asked as she approached. “What’s happened to you?”
“You know what happened,” Penelope said. “You were there.”
Ava’s face paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do,” Penelope said, then coughed. Arlena had helped her into her jeans and sweatshirt before she headed over to the restaurant. The front door opened and Arlena came through, followed by the sheriff.
“I found the financial records for Herring – Steele,” Penelope said.
Ava smiled tightly. “I know, I have tracking on the computer. I can see what everyone’s been up to. Pretty nosy of you.”
Penelope let go of the stool and approached Ava. “You’ve been stealing, promising people a return on investment when you know there never will be one. You’ve funded all of these renovations, at the business and at the Foster house, with the money.”
“It’s not illegal to ask for funds from investors,” Ava said defiantly.
“It is when you present it like you’re doing something to benefit the community, but instead you’re just funding your own business.”
Arlena placed a folder on the bar, the one Penelope had seen in Sybil’s room a few days earlier. Penelope pulled a sheet from the back.
“Here’s your mission statement,” Penelope began.
“Jeremy, go in the back,” Ava ordered. He stood frozen in place until she asked him again.
“Herring – Steele, a charity set up in partnership with Jordan’s businesses to prevent suicides among young people in the community,” she read from the sheet. “Indiana has one of the highest suicide rates in the country, and our goal is to fund outreach programs in the schools to help.” Penelope dropped the paper back on the bar. “Herring is the last name of Jordan and Jennifer’s friend back in school who took her own life, and Steele is the name of a student that died a few years ago at the high school.”
“And we are doing those things,” Ava said. “Making a difference in the community.”
“Except you’re not,” Sheriff Bryson weighed in. “There aren’t any programs in place.”
“We’re still in the planning stages,” Ava said.
“You have to register charitable activities with the state. There are no records or Herring – Steele,” the sheriff said.
“Which will be taken care of eventually. We’ll be in compliance.” Ava’s voice wavered as she pleaded with them.
Penelope looked around her. “Your records show all of the donations taken so far have gone right back into the business, or into your own pockets, none allocated to any charity of any kind. What happened, Jordan found out what you were up to, cooking the books?”
Ava glared at them. “Yes, he found out by accident from Denis, even though Denis was told Jordan wasn’t involved in the charity piece. He never concerned himself with the finances or how the business was run, even his budget at home. I explained to him eventually we’d fund the suicide-prevention programs, but we had to build the business up first in order to do that.”
“He refused to let you continue duping people, so you killed him?”
“Jordan didn’t understand. This is how business is done,” Ava whined.
“Not legally,” Penelope responded. “You told people different things with one goal in mind, to take their money, with either a promise of a return on investment or to raise money for charity. But it was really just to line your own pockets.”
Sheriff Bryson led Ava out of Festa in handcuffs with Penelope and Arlena right behind. Penelope’s head was pounding, a side effect from the drugs she’d been slipped, according to the medic. She thought it was also an excess of adrenaline from the confrontation with Ava.
“I can’t believe she would do this to Jordan,” Arlena said, her arms crossed. They watched Sheriff Bryson help Ava up into the backseat of his jeep.
“Megan too,” Penelope said. “His work wife and his home wife killed him together.”
Chapter 47
The next morning, Penelope woke with a slight headache, but overall felt renewed after a long night’s sleep. She got herself ready for work, the hot shower reviving her further. Joey returned from his trip to Indianapolis right before lunchtime. She’d called him the night before, and he wanted to come back right away, but she insisted she was fine and really wanted him to find out what he could from his contact there.
“I have to go to the sheriff’s office again,” Penelope said.
“I’m driving you,” Joey insisted.
“Not going to argue with you about that,” Penelope agreed.
They made their way into town and took the seats opposite Sheriff Bryson’s desk.
“How are you feeling?” he asked after they were settled.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Penelope said.
Sheriff Bryson sighed and shook his head. “You helped solve the murder of Jordan Foster. Megan and Ava should never have tried to get away with it again.”
“Did they confess?” Penelope asked.
“Oh, yes,” the sheriff said. “Right away. The investment scheme you uncovered is collapsing like a house of cards the more people we talk to. The Quincy team has a forensic accountant. She’s going to be very busy uncovering the money trail.”
“And the losses,” Penelope said, shaking her head. She thought abo
ut Megan’s newly renovated house and all the updates to Festa and the inn, most of which were apparently paid for under false pretenses.
“Jordan found out,” the sheriff said, sighing. “Long after I’m thinking he should have. But he always left everything up to those two. He didn’t involve himself in the inner workings of the business, let Ava make all the deals and sign all the papers. As far as he knew, he was making enough money to pay for everything.”
“And then he found out from Denis,” Penelope said.
“Yes, he let it slip at the bar one night, congratulating Jordan on all his success and implying he couldn’t wait to get his share.”
“What about Jacob and Shirley Pears, the mortgage at the diner?”
“From what we found, the Pearses signed an interest-only loan, thinking they would eventually own the property, but in reality it was still owned by Ava. She created a lease, which they signed, and would be paying for eternity for something they would never own.”
“They didn’t have a lawyer review the sale?” Joey asked.
“Nope,” the sheriff said. “It was for sale by owner, a neighborly transfer, no lawyers or agents involved. Ava knew how to pick her marks.”
“How did she decide who to ask for investments?” Penelope asked.
“Not sure,” the sheriff said. “They all seem to have a personal connection to tragedy, or she simply chose people she thought wouldn’t ask too many questions.”
“So Jordan confronts Ava, who lets Megan know Jordan will be coming home with financial questions about the house…” Joey began.
“And they bump him off, make it look like a stress-induced suicide,” Penelope said. An overwhelming feeling of sadness washed over her and she took Joey’s hand. “The ironic thing,” Penelope continued, “is they were starting to do well. Once Ava got started, the money and debt just snowballed. The people at the bottom of the pyramid, the early investors...she had to keep finding new investors to cover their returns. Eventually the whole scheme just collapses.”
“But who vandalized the restaurant?” Joey asked. “Wasn’t it the kids?”
Penelope shook her head.
“That was Ava,” Sheriff Bryson said, “trying to throw us off track, make us think Bailey was behind everything. She admitted to planting Jordan’s boots at his campsite, figuring that would be enough to get him arrested. Megan strangled her husband on the kitchen floor then loaded him into the car, too rattled to remember he didn’t have his work boots on. Then Ava met her and helped her hang him in the walk-in,” the sheriff said.
“So Ava went back for the boots, but you had already shown up at the inn by then, so she opted to take them to the campsite?” Penelope asked.
Sheriff Bryson nodded. “Bailey is an easy target. She was trying to throw all the suspicion on him.”
“It worked,” Penelope said. “She had me fooled.”
“She’s had a lot of us fooled, for a long time,” the sheriff said.
“Can I ask what you found in the woods?” Penelope asked.
Sheriff Bryson’s expression became pained. “We found the remains of at least two bodies. The forensic team is still there, with a backup one from Indianapolis, conducting a more advanced search.”
“Do you think it’s the missing kids? The Forrestville Five?” Penelope asked.
“I sure hope it’s not, but I’m thinking it may be,” Sheriff Bryson said.
“I was in Indianapolis, at Penny’s request,” Joey said, squeezing her hand, “looking into the case, the missing files, and the Helmsley connection. My contact said they’ve had Kevin Helmsley in a cell with a snitch, and he’s been talking. You might be getting some company here, maybe federal help soon.”
Sheriff Bryson’s expression remained calm, but Penelope could see he was pleased at the news. “Is that right?”
Officer Collins emerged from her office and stood in the doorway, her expression hopeful.
Joey turned in his seat to face her. “From what I understand from my contact, Helmsley the younger is a psycho. And his father was in a position to cover for him and destroy other evidence. Who knows, if he hadn’t had that heart attack, more kids might have disappeared.”
“But where does that put Bailey?” Penelope asked.
“He swears to me he had no part in it, that Helmsley was crazy, leading them around. Bailey swears he never hurt anyone,” the sheriff said.
“I hope you’re right,” Penelope said. “You’ll be sure he has a good lawyer, I hope. You know the authorities will have lots of questions for him.”
“The guys said the third kid is going to testify, cut himself a deal for his testimony, which should help,” Joey said.
Officer Collins pressed her fingers to her lips and stared at Sheriff Bryson.
“We’re finally going to have the answer to this awfulness, God willing,” the sheriff said.
Chapter 48
Penelope and Joey sat in the great room of the inn in front of the fire, enjoying a few moments of peace.
Jennifer came through, Janie trailing behind her. “Penelope, there you are.”
“Hi, Jennifer,” Penelope managed without sounding too disappointed at the interruption.
“Janie isn’t shutting the movie down,” Jennifer said, clearly very happy with the news.
“That’s great,” Penelope said with less enthusiasm.
“With one condition,” Janie said, stepping forward.
“What’s that?” Penelope said warily.
“I’m flying in a new writing team to work up a treatment of the story,” Janie said.
“What story?” Penelope said, shifting forward on the sofa.
“The murder of Jordan Foster, and the murders of the Forrestville Five.” Excitement clipped through Janie’s words. “They’ll have to interview you, of course, Penelope, since you have first-hand knowledge of everything that happened.”
“Um,” Penelope said. She looked at Jennifer’s hopeful face. “Sure, whatever you need, Jennifer.”
The women sat down at the bar behind them, discussing the project in hushed voices.
“I guess I’ll be here a little longer,” Penelope said.
“It’s okay,” Joey said, pulling her back against the sofa next to him.
“Did you want to have that talk now?” Penelope asked.
“Talk?”
“Yeah, you know, the levels you mentioned,” Penelope urged.
“Right,” Joey agreed, looking around the nearly empty room. “For me, the next level is for us to think about moving in together.”
“Oh,” Penelope said. “Yeah, but I have my arrangement with Arlena.”
“You can still be her chef and not live there, right? My place is only twenty minutes away, and you’re there a lot anyway,” Joey said.
“Wow, that’s a big level,” Penelope said. “I like it.”
Joey took her chin in his fingers and pulled her in for a kiss. “We can talk about the other levels when we’re alone.”
“Can you give me a hint?” Penelope asked, giving him another peck on the chin.
“You can guess, I think,” Joey said. “I want you in my life. Permanently. How you feel about that, I’m not sure. I mean, I think I know...that’s the next step for us in my mind.”
Penelope’s heart skipped and she kissed him again, freezing the moment in her mind, holding him close for as long as possible.
About the Author
Shawn Reilly Simmons was born in Indiana, grew up in Florida, and began her professional career in New York City as a sales executive after graduating from the University of Maryland with a BA in English. Since then Shawn has worked as a bookstore manager, fiction editor, convention organizer, wine consultant and caterer. She has been on the Board of Directors of Malice Domestic since 2003, and is a founding member of The Dames of
Detection. Cooking behind the scenes on movie sets perfectly combined two of her great loves, movies and food, and provides the inspiration for her series.
The Red Carpet Catering Mystery Series
by Shawn Reilly Simmons
MURDER ON A SILVER PLATTER (#1)
MURDER ON THE HALF SHELL (#2)
MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET (#3)
MURDER IS THE MAIN COURSE (#4)
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A MUDDIED MURDER
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A Greenhouse Mystery (#1)
When Megan Sawyer gives up her big-city law career to care for her grandmother and run the family’s organic farm and café, she expects to find peace and tranquility in her scenic hometown of Winsome, Pennsylvania. Instead, her goat goes missing, rain muddies her fields, the town denies her business permits, and her family’s Colonial-era farm sucks up the remains of her savings.
Murder Is the Main Course Page 22
