Losing Penny

by Kristy Tate

  “It’s all right, baby,” her father said. “You didn’t know about the creeper.”

  Drake seethed. He wanted to scream, “He’s not a creeper, he’s a lurk!” But that was just semantics, and for once Drake realized that actual words didn’t matter.

  His dad returned to the circle of people in the parking lot. “I just talked to the Seattle chief of police. He ran a credit card report on an Allen Porter for me.”

  Don Marx snorted. “There’s got to be million Allen Porter’s in the world.”

  “It’s all we’ve got, Dad,” Trevor said in a hard voice.

  “Well,” Malcolm said, “this Allen Porter is a chef at the Ritz Carlton, and it turns out that he flew into Sea-Tac yesterday and is currently staying at the Strand Hotel.”

  “Let’s go,” Trevor said.

  Don Marx held up his hand. “I’ve called for a Suburban.”

  “We don’t have time, Dad,” Trevor growled.

  “Oh! Trevor!” Melinda bounced in excitement. “You could fly us in a helicopter!”

  Trevor rolled his eyes. “I can’t just fly a helicopter into Seattle and buzz the Strand Hotel!”

  Melinda studied her shoes.

  Mia pointed across the lot. “Look, here comes the car!”

  The big, black Suburban rolled in and Don Marx strode over to talk to the driver. They exchanged keys then Don handed them to Trevor. While everyone piled in—Drake in the front passenger seat, Drake’s parents in the second row, and Andrea and Melinda in the back—Trevor and his dad held a heated conversation. Finally Trevor got into the driver’s seat.

  “Where’s Daddy going?” Melinda asked, leaning over the back seat.

  Trevor cleared his throat but didn’t answer. He turned the ignition and the car roared to life. “The Strand Hotel?” he asked Drake.

  Because he didn’t have a better idea, Drake nodded.

  “Chief Sprague said he can’t help us,” Malcolm said. “At least not right away.”

  “Why not?” Andrea asked.

  “They can’t just barge into a man’s hotel room on speculation—” his dad answered. “And it turns out Allen Porter’s dad is a big deal in the restaurant/hotel world. No one wants to get on his bad side, especially if they don’t have a just cause.”

  “Hotel security?” Drake asked, swallowing back his disappointment.

  “Sprague is calling the Strand and he said he’d call me back.”

  Mia looked at her husband with new appreciation.

  Drake’s mind raced as the dark countryside flashed past his window. Somewhere between Rose Arbor and Seattle it occurred to him that he could gather help and execute a plan to save Penny, even though he had been powerless when it came to saving a little girl named Missy.

  Maybe he wasn’t the spoiled and lazy professor he had always thought he was. Maybe his secret about who he really was and who he really could be wasn’t a secret at all. Maybe, when faced with a monster, he could be the hero.

  Chapter 54

  It’s not wrong to give in to the occasional indulgence. There are psychological as well as physical benefits to letting go of the tight grip you have on your diet.

  From Losing Penny and Pounds

  Penny opened one eye and caught Allen staring at her. He sat in a chair directly opposite of her bed, still in his chef’s coat.

  “Finally, you’re awake,” Allen said with a happy sigh. “I ordered some beef Wellington with steamed vegetables, rice pilaf, and a very lovely tiramisu for dessert. It’s not the Ritz, of course, but The Strand does run a decent kitchen.”

  Penny sat up, her head swimming. She looked down at the needle prick on her arm. None of this seemed right—Allen wouldn’t hurt her. She pushed her hair away from her face and tried to gather her mushy thoughts.

  “You’re so skinny now I hardly recognized you,” Allen said, standing and fussing over the food trays. “But we should be able to fatten you up again soon enough.”

  “Allen, don’t think I don’t love beef Wellington and tiramisu—”

  “You’re favorites, right?” Allen beamed at her.

  Looking from the food to Allen’s smiling face, she felt ill. He was crazy. He drugged her and kidnapped her then expected her to enjoy an evening meal with him.

  “And that’s not all,” he pulled a bottle of champagne from the wine cooler. “And—“ he reached in his pocket and Penny held her breath, expecting a weapon.

  Sarah McLachlan. Music flooded the room when Allen pulled out an IPod.

  “You like her, right?” Allen looked puzzled by Penny’s lack of enthusiasm.

  “Allen—I love Sarah Mclachlan, tiramisu, beef Wellington and gerbera daisies.” She mentioned the flowers before he point them out. “The problem is I don’t love you.”

  Allen sat down on the bed beside her, his weight shifting her toward him. She scooted away and folded her knees under her body.

  “I know that’s true now, but just wait, you’ll grow to love me again. Like you used to.”

  “We were just friends.”

  Allen shook his head, a frown settling on his lips. “No, you are the love of my life.” He stood up abruptly and walked over to the food trays. “Bearnaise sauce?”

  And because she didn’t know what else to do, she shrugged and took the plate he handed her. She swallowed without registering the taste, and she tried to smile at Allen to appease him. She glanced out the dark window at the glowing Space Needle. Eventually Allen would need to leave the room, if only to use the restroom, and when he did, she’d simply walk away. Until then, why not enjoy the tiramisu?

  Chapter 55

  “For all who trespass these waters, a toll must be exacted.” The monster did not speak, but Hans heard the voice, fierce and terrible, ringing in his head. He knew he had to move with caution and speed, but as the water churned and the clouds roiled overhead, the only stillness he could find was in his own mind and heart. There he imagined Ingrid, her pale skin incandescent in the flickering firelight. Her laughter rang in his heart and filled his head, drowning out the serpent’s thundering growl.

  From Hans and the Sunstone

  “Pull around to the back entrance,” Drake instructed Trevor. “This is the only difficult part of the plan.”

  “It’s not so difficult,” Trevor said.

  “Why? Do you think the staff at the Strand will just hand us uniforms and room service carts?” Drake asked.

  “They will for the right price,” Trevor told him as he navigated the car down the back alley and parked beside some trash bins.

  Drake’s heart sank as he climbed from the car. Why did everything have to come down to money—the one thing that he didn’t have? A heavenly odor floated from the open door of the hotel’s kitchen.

  “I have some cash,” Malcolm said, coming to stand beside Trevor and Drake beneath the streetlamp.

  “That’s all right, my dad gave me seven thousand dollars.” Trevor pulled a bulging wallet from his back pocket.

  “Seven thousand dollars?” Drake’s voice cracked.

  “It’s all he had on him at the time,” Trevor explained. “I think he saw something like this coming.”

  “Then why isn’t he here?” Drake’s dad asked through tight lips.

  “He—” Trevor hesitated, “he tries to fly beneath the police radar.”

  Mia pressed her lips together, but Drake’s dad looked pleased.

  “The police radar? He’s not beneath anyone’s radar,” Drake said. “He’s got his name on malls, schools, and theaters. I know. I wrote the book on him.”

  “That doesn’t make him well-liked, just well-known,” Trevor said. “I’ll go and talk to the staff.”

  Malcolm raised his eyebrows at him. “I told you money can be useful.”

  “But it obviously can’t buy you love,” Drake replied, watching his mom blush.

  Chapter 56

  Health benefits of being love include less stress-induced acne, lower blood pressure, a better se
x life, and an increased immune system.

  From Losing Penny and Pounds

  Penny almost spit out a mouthful of champagne when Drake rolled a room service cart into the room.

  “Room service,” Drake called out. Melinda followed, pushing a similar looking cart, but obviously with more difficulty. Moments later Penny saw why when Mia and a man Penny didn’t recognize tumbled out from beneath the curtained tray.

  “What is this?” Allen asked, standing up and throwing his linen napkin down on the table.

  “You ordered room service,” Drake said. He kicked his cart. Nothing happened. He kicked it harder. Trevor and Andrea climbed out, both looking flushed and sheepish. Drake folded his arms and scowled at their bruised and red lips.

  Melinda laughed. “Excuse me, Andrea, did you know you have my brother’s watch caught in your hair?”

  “Mmm, I wonder how that happened?” Mia asked, smiling as Andrea focused her attention on straightening her clothes and Trevor looked out the window.

  “Thank you for dinner, Allen,” Penny stood and set down her napkin and fork. “It’s been lovely to see you again, but I this is my ride home.”

  Allen braced his shoulders. “Penny, you don’t understand. I’m not letting you go.”

  “You can’t keep her here, Allen,” Drake said, trying to sound calm.

  “I’m not letting her go,” Allen repeated and he pulled a pistol from his pocket and waved it at all of them.

  Mia gasped, Melinda screamed, and Trevor turned on Drake.

  “You said he was fat and harmless!” Trevor said.

  “Well, I was half right,” Drake said, slowly raising his hands.

  “You said I was fat?” Allen’s face turned a mottled red.

  “Allen, please. Put the gun away,” Penny said.

  Two tears rolled out of the corner of Allen’s eyes and ran down his cheeks. “I can’t live without you, Penny.” The gun shook in Drake’s face. “If I can’t have you, no one can.”

  The gun exploded.

  Chapter 57

  The tide pulled and tossed his lifeless form like a lost vessel. He was nothing more than flotsam on a dark and angry sea. Blue, gray, and green bubbles swirled before his eyes, clouding his vision.

  The sea spat him onto shore and there he lay while shifting sand filled his eyes, mouth, ears, and nose. A goat came to inspect him and snuffled through his hair. Han’s lifted one weary eyelid to see Ingrid tripping down the beach. “You have come to save me from my loneliness,” she said. But Hans knew that she had saved him.

  From Hans and the Sunstone

  He was alive. And unhurt. Drake opened his eyes. Penny stood beside Allen, handing him pillow to staunch the bleeding in his hand. She turned to the doorway, her eyes blazing and furious. “You had me Watchdogged!”

  Drake turned to watch Richard stride into the room.

  “And good thing too,” Richard said, hotel security on his heels. Richard tucked his gun back into his pocket.

  The two security guards pulled Allen from the room.

  “Now will you come home?” Richard asked.

  Penny folded her arms across her chest. “No! I’m sick of people telling me where to go and what to do. From now on and I’m going to go where I want and do what I want.”

  Richard lifted his eyebrow. “Oh? And where do you want to go and what do you want to do?”

  Drake watched conflicting emotions run across Penny’s face. After a few minutes, she squared her shoulders and said, “I’m going back to the beach house with Drake. We’re collaborating on a book.”

  “We are?” Drake asked, immediately aware that he’d said the wrong thing.

  “A Viking diet cookbook,” Andrea spoke up. “My idea, by the way.”

  “A Viking diet?” Richard asked, sounding skeptical.

  “It’s brilliant,” Andrea told him. “Lots of fresh fish and produce.”

  Richard shook his head at her. “I’m sorry, it’s really hard to take you seriously when you’ve got a Rolex hanging in your hair.”

  Andrea frowned at him, pulled at the watch and turned to Drake. “It’s a really good idea.”

  But Drake had all of his attention on Penny. Any idea that involved Penny and the beach house had to be a good one.

  One year later

  Dress sizes come and go but wedding pictures are forever. Penny smiled at the contrast of her creamy skin with the barely blush pink silk.

  Rose smiled at her from across the room. Because of all the mirrors lining the walls, Rose came in quadruples. Rose’s dress reminded Penny of a lampshade, but Penny didn’t care. She was so happy that Rose could come to the wedding dressed in gorilla suit and Penny still wouldn’t care.

  “It’s a little loose.” Rose folded her arms and frowned at Penny’s quadruple reflections.

  “Harrumph,” the woman at Penny’s feet said. Because of all the pins in the seamstress’s mouth, it surprised Penny that the seamstress could say anything at all. Rose understood tailor-speak, but Penny didn’t.

  “I know,” Rose sighed. “She’s absolutely gorgeous, even if she insists on wearing her mother’s 1970s wedding gown.”

  “Harrumph,” the woman retorted.

  Maybe the seventies styles were generally hideous with its bold colors and patterns, but Penny wanted to wear her mother’s dress, which was anything but hideous.

  “At least we were able to get rid of most of that awful lace,” Rose said. She pinched the silk and tugged the dress slightly lower.

  “I’m looking for Penny Lee,” Drake’s voice came from the next room.

  Ignoring pins, Penny quickly slipped out of the dress.

  “Hey,” Rose complained.

  “Harrumph!” the seamstress said.

  Penny gave them an apologetic smile. “I’m done. I don’t care what I look like as long as I’m with Drake.”

  Rose raised her eyebrows as Penny threw on her clothes and hurried out of the fitting room.

  She headed toward Drake and her brand new life.

  Hailey’s Comments

  Now Available!

  Chapter One

  “A lemon that’s been squeezed too many times ends up in the compost pile…” I started out strong, but my words faded away when I noticed Savannah Everett’s father staring at me. He stood beside a cart filled with vegetables, grinning, as if he had caught me in my lie.

  Pretending I didn’t see him, I cleared my throat and studied the citrus, as if I could possibly find navel oranges and limes more interesting than him. “I have to go, Grammy,” I mumbled into the phone and dropped it into my purse.

  “Good morning, Miss Emma,” he said, standing by the potatoes and onions.

  “Good morning, Mr. Everett.” I snuck a quick glance into his cart, but it couldn’t tell me what I really wanted to know. Grocery cart contents say so much about a person. Nothing screams immaturity as loudly as Captain Crunch, and the brand of yogurt in a cart can reveal the health of a dietary tract. I knew he wasn’t a vegetarian and that he ate a lot of ready-made meals, but what I really wanted to know wasn’t at all obvious. He had a retro Robert Redford look, with startling dark brown eyes that contrasted with his blond hair. He looked like he belonged on a sunny California beach with a volleyball, not in the produce section of the grocery store.

  Hiding my flushed face, I scooped up a bag of grapefruit and hurried away without the red onion that I wanted and with way too many grapefruits. I would never be able to eat all of them before the last one spoiled. Living alone is like a race pitting appetite against ripening produce.

  Maybe my answer to that day’s column would have been different if I had been standing in another aisle. Maybe if I had been looking at cleansers instead of citrus I would have come up with something lauding the benefits of bleach. Maybe if I hadn’t bumped into Mr. Everett I could have had onions on my hamburgers.

  But it didn’t matter; once the lie spilled I was doomed to slip in it. That’s the problem with lies, they b
leed and they can make a big mess, even when you think they’re contained. Sure, things could be mopped up, but if it wasn’t done right, the stickiness would stay, attracting dust, dirt, and lint.

  Not that I was attracted to Mr. Everett.

  ***

  I love dogs, but I believe that they should have their own space. An art studio is not a dog space. It may be fine if the studio is private and the dog is your own, but there really isn’t any reason to bring a Cocker Spaniel to work. Especially if you work with children and your Cocker doesn’t enjoy children. It’s not okay to surround your kid-hating Cocker with fifteen children armed with backpacks full of snacks and loaded paint brushes.

  The clock struck four. I shot O-Toole, Artie’s Cocker, a behave or die look, smoothed down my smock, picked up a marker, and headed for the board at the head of the class. Table top easels perched on the scarred and paint-splattered tables. Tall windows let in the winter’s dying sunlight. The children stood on the cement floor behind their easels, pencils in hand, waiting for me.

  I greeted the students and tried to ignore Mr. Everett standing at the back of the room, but his deep laugh rumbled and rattled my insides. He stood in a knot of mothers, like a regal goose in a gaggle of hens. The women twittered and he replied in a deep low hum. I willed them away. It was time for the class to start and I didn’t want an audience. Why were they still here? Several of the women wore tennis skirts. Didn’t they have a match to play?

  I didn’t really mind that some of the parents chose to stay during the after-school program, but Artie called them helicopter parents. She didn’t say that about Mr. Everett, because she never had an argument with a handsome man. But since that same man overheard my lie and prevented my onion purchase, I minded him. A lot.