Penelope laughed. “Only tonight, we’ll stay out of the disco clubs.”
“Thank goodness you’re here,” Arlena said, sighing gratefully.
“Arlena.” Sam Cavanaugh, her onscreen husband, came rushing through the door, bumping Penelope into the door frame in the process.
“Sam. What are you doing here?” Arlena’s hands instinctively went to her hair and face, checking to make sure she was brushed and made up. She glanced at Penelope, silently pleading with her to confirm she was presentable. Not just normal presentable, but a-handsome-man-is-near presentable. Penelope gave her a subtle thumbs up from the doorway, and Arlena’s shoulders relaxed back onto the bed.
“I was so worried. Also, they wrapped for the day. They need both of us to do our scenes together,” he said. He took Arlena’s hand and tucked her hair behind her ear in one fluid motion, practiced and natural. “You’re here and I was there, so I came here. I can’t stop seeing the image of you flying through the air, landing on your head. That was crazy.”
Maybe Sam was still in shock from witnessing the accident. She glanced at Arlena, but she was smiling at him, apparently unaware of his rambling. Doctor Singh stared at Sam, his mouth frozen in a silent O.
“Dr. Reynolds,” Dr. Singh exclaimed.
Sam had gotten his big break a few years ago playing Dr. Jonathan Reynolds on Emergency, a must-see hospital drama on TV. Penelope wondered if the doctors and nurses at South Point Medical Center were walking around half naked and having sex in the supply closets downstairs. Probably not. She hadn’t seen anyone as good looking as Sam Cavanaugh or any of his costars down there. Not by a long shot.
“Yep, that’s me,” Sam said.
“Can I get a picture? I’m a big fan,” Dr. Singh said.
“Sure, anything for Arlena’s doctor.” He moved around to Dr. Singh’s side of the bed.
The doctor held his phone up in the air and tried to throw his arm around Sam’s shoulders. Sam was at least a foot taller than the doctor, and the shorter man’s arm didn’t quite reach. He settled for looping an arm around Sam’s waist. He snapped the picture from his upraised hand as they both smiled at the phone.
“That was my favorite show during my residency. I never missed an episode. When you died of cancer, I couldn’t believe it. The show wasn’t ever the same after that,” Dr. Singh said, shaking his head.
Penelope remembered Sam being a very robust, healthy-looking cancer patient, still sexy with his shaved head, breaking the hearts of both the ambitious young doctor and the long-suffering ex-girlfriend nurse who loved him. He eventually died in the nurse’s arms, scoring a ratings high for the show.
“It’s right in here.” Penelope heard a woman’s voice from behind her in the hallway. A nurse was showing Detective Baglioni into Arlena’s tiny room. He squeezed through the doorway, brushing Penelope as he went.
“Excuse me, Miss Sutherland.”
Penelope’s cheeks flushed and it took her a minute to refocus on the adult conversation in the room. Now there were three men in Arlena’s room surrounding her narrow hospital bed, a modern day Snow White and three Prince Charmings, each hoping to plant a kiss and win her heart forever.
“Hello, Arlena, Doctor. And…” He looked at Sam, waiting for an introduction.
“Sam Cavanaugh.”
“Oh yeah, Jack Sloan.”
One of Sam’s best known movie roles was action hero Jack Sloan. He saved the world every two to three years up on the big screen chasing terrorists, disabling bombs, landing burning airplanes and diverting rogue missiles, most of the time in a shredded shirt or a tight bathing suit. He usually started out in Armani but would end up in the buff with a constantly revolving list of leading ladies, the world safe once again. Penelope figured Arlena would do anything to be in a Jack Sloan movie.
“I must go and check on another patient,” Dr. Singh said. “Call me if you have any concerns, Arlena.” He turned and made his way through the crowded room. He brushed past Penelope, still standing in the doorway, on his way out. The room had become overheated and Penelope unzipped her puffy jacket.
“Thanks, Doctor,” Arlena called after him. Sam took the seat beside Arlena’s bed and placed her hand gently in his. Penelope briefly wondered if he remembered he was her husband in the movie, not in real life. Maybe he was staying in character on and off the set like Daniel Day-Lewis or Viggo Mortensen.
“Someone gave you a bump on the head, huh?” Detective Baglioni asked. He glanced at the monitors on the wall over Arlena’s head.
“How did you know?”
“I was downstairs questioning a stabbing victim and heard the nurses buzzing about you being up here,” he said.
“Wow, a stabbing?” Penelope asked.
Joey nodded tightly at her and turned back to Arlena.
“I was in an accident on the set. Someone from the crew wasn’t watching where they were going and ran me over with a golf cart. At least that’s what I’ve been told. I don’t really remember.”
“So you were, what? Running down the street? Or you were behind something and he didn’t see you?”
“No, we were rehearsing a sidewalk dialogue scene. Sam and me.” She squeezed Sam’s hand and he nodded at her. “In the scene we’re window shopping, looking for presents for our adopted son…the one I pushed Sam to adopt but he had reservations about because the boy is a war refugee from Sudan. It’s a very powerful scene, a real turning point in the movie. We wanted to run it together a few times before Sal came for the day’s shoot.”
“I see, so definitely not a car chase,” Joey said.
“No, there aren’t any car chases in Remember the Fall. It’s an art film about a marriage coming apart at the seams,” Arlena explained patiently.
“Ah, a date night flick.” He chuckled, glancing at Penelope. “I thought you stuck to the action flicks, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“You have to stretch as an artist, so…” Sam trailed off, gazing at Arlena. Penelope remembered hearing Sam say that in an interview on Access Hollywood, back when he made the transition from TV to film.
“That’s true, Sam. So true,” Arlena said, returning his gaze. “They’re releasing me now. Pen is here to take me home.”
“Oh, I can take you,” Sam said. He was still gazing into her eyes, then did the hair tuck behind her ear thing again. “I want to be sure you get there okay and that you’re safe.”
Penelope wondered again if she had missed something, and if Sam and Arlena were actually dating. She knew she’d never seen him at the house before. They’d only been filming Remember the Fall for a week, so essentially they had just met.
“Oh, Sam, thank you,” Arlena breathed gratefully. “That would be wonderful.” She gathered herself together, easing herself off the hospital bed.
She was still wearing her slim black trousers and tight pink sweater from earlier when the accident happened. The arm of her sweater was ripped, but it would be covered by her coat. Penelope knew Arlena would never head out in torn clothes in case the paparazzi lurked nearby. Sam put his arm around her tiny waist and helped her up from the bed.
“If Sam is taking you home, I’ll head back to set and wrap up the crew, do my orders,” she said, stepping into the room and handing Arlena’s coat and bag to Sam.
“That sounds perfect. I’ll see you later.”
Penelope had seen that look before. Arlena was going to recover at home with the help of Sam’s sexy Dr. Reynolds, back from the dead for an encore performance. She figured her recovery would probably include wine and candles.
“There’s some crab dip in the fridge,” Penelope offered.
“Sounds amazing. See you later on tonight?” Arlena asked.
“Yep. See you later,” Penelope said.
Point taken. She would stay out for a while and l
et nature takes its course at home. Depending on how well things went, she might want to take herself out to dinner and a movie to give them as much time as possible. Sam guided Arlena carefully through the room and after a few steps she seemed to regain her balance. Arlena tossed her hair over her shoulder and said goodbye to Joey as they passed, Sam holding her purse and coat for her as he led her away.
“Are there any more developments in Holly’s case?” Penelope asked once she and Joey were the only two left in the once crowded room.
“We’re following up on some leads, questioning the girl’s family. None of your neighbors heard or saw anything, the ones we’ve been able to talk to anyway.”
“It was a good night to be indoors,” Penelope said. She was momentarily distracted by the little gold flecks in his green irises.
“We’re still determining what happened exactly. It’s hard to tell anything with all the snow. It was all churned up like a herd of Clydesdales had tromped through it.” He glanced at his watch.
“I’m sorry I messed up your crime scene,” Penelope said quietly, slightly miffed at his comment. Although Penelope was an athletic size six, she sometimes felt a sharp contrast in comparison to Arlena, who was a tall and wispy size two and looked like a strong wind could pick her up and blow her down the street like a piece of newspaper. No woman wants to be compared to a giant horse, even in a flattering way, which this was not.
“I know it wasn’t intentional.” Detective Baglioni chuckled. “You were scared.”
Penelope crossed her arms against her chest and leveled her gaze at him.
“You were never scared back in school. You were the bravest girl on the playground. That’s how I remember you at least,” Joey said.
“Luckily there were no dead bodies to trip over back in third grade,” Penelope said, softening a bit. “Where did you go to school after Immaculate Heart?”
“St. Joseph’s High and then right into the police academy,” Joey said. St. Joseph’s was an all boy’s Catholic school on the north end of the town where they grew up. “You?”
“I went to the public high school in Freehold. They have a culinary arts program there. Made it easier to apply for culinary school when I graduated. I didn’t have to work the line in a restaurant first, like most first years do.”
“That’s Penny Blue, always the planner,” Joey said with a quiet laugh. “You didn’t know anyone there, though, right?”
Penelope nodded, gazing at a spot over his shoulder. “No. No one from our school went there. But it worked out. I adapted, made a couple of friends in my cooking courses.”
“That’s brave, going to a new high school in a different town. At least some of the guys at Joseph’s were from Immaculate Heart. I don’t think I could’ve started over with new friends back then.”
Penelope glanced away from his gaze. She remembered Joey from grade school, likeable and funny, but shunned by some of their classmates for being overweight. She and Joey had sat next to each other in math class in fifth grade, and she knew he got in trouble a couple of times by trying to make her laugh during the lecture, the stern priest making him copy times tables on the chalkboard in front of the class as punishment.
“I should be going,” Joey said, somewhat reluctantly. He brushed past her as he left the room, glancing briefly back at her over his shoulder as he went.
Penelope watched him walk down the hallway and tried to forget how good he smelled. Like sandalwood and cinnamon gum.
Chapter 6
Penelope drove slowly up her street, coming to a stop at the stone pillars that anchored the long driveway leading up to their house. She blew out a noisy sigh and hoped she had given Sam and Arlena enough time alone. After the hospital she had gone back to the set where her crew was finishing the dinner cleanup, breaking down steam tables and putting the kitchen and pantry trucks back in order. Penelope insisted the crew clean and arrange everything for the next day at the end of each shoot. Experience had taught her there was nothing worse than starting off the filming day disorganized. It always put them too far behind to comfortably keep up.
Before heading home, Penelope made her produce and fish orders for the next day’s deliveries, signed off on payroll in the production trailer, and picked up the following day’s call sheet. After her work was finished, she went to South Point’s Main Street Wine Bar and had a big glass of Pinot Noir and some butternut squash soup with crusty bread for dinner to kill time.
She ate at a small table for two near the big picture windows, making notes and sketching out future menu plans in a spiral notebook. Although she was exhausted she enjoyed the peace and quiet, the good food and wine. The small votive candle on her table flickered whenever a member of the wait staff walked by. She found herself watching them, judging how they were working as if they were her own staff. She forced her mind to relax again and took another sip of wine.
Penelope thought back to when she and Arlena had met and become friends on a movie set a few years ago. Arlena was the lead actress and Penelope was one of the chefs on the catering crew. The film was Slash ’Em Dead Again!—the fourth installment in the Slash ’Em! movie series. Arlena was the top screamer, running from the terrible Slash ’Em monster for most of the movie. The movies were a huge success, terrified moviegoers eagerly lining up to pay their hard earned money to watch Arlena and other young actors and actresses chased, slashed, skewered and otherwise traumatized on the big screen.
Penelope was assigned to take care of Arlena’s long list of culinary requests on the set: no fat, no processed food, no fruit after two o’clock, six coconut waters chilled in her trailer every morning, nothing containing sugar allowed anywhere near her plate, and the biggest one, absolutely no shellfish. Arlena also requested a fresh vegetable tray every morning in her trailer, and a protein shake every day at three. It was a long list of do’s and don’ts, but Penelope happily prepared her meals to order and catered to every request, excited to be working on her first big movie.
Penelope’s dream was to own her own on set catering business, and when she graduated from culinary school she took every theatrical job she could. She’d catered commercials for one day, rehearsals for an Off-Broadway production that closed down after one week, and a low budget music video where they director tried to pay her with gift cards. But she’d persevered through the bad jobs and put aside all of the money she could, saving up to buy her own trucks and hire a crew to launch Red Carpet Catering. Slash ’Em Dead Again! was the last financial boost she needed.
“You’re the only one around here who doesn’t make me crazy,” Arlena said through tears one morning as Penelope delivered the vegetable plate to her trailer.
Penelope looked around and realized she was the only one in the trailer, and that Arlena, who had never spoken directly to her before, was talking about her. “Me?” Penelope said with disbelief.
“Yes,” Arlena said, frustrated. “You listen to what I ask, you take it seriously and you do it without giving me an attitude. Or asking me a million questions.” She snagged a cherry tomato from the chilled vegetable plate Penelope was holding. She pulled her lips apart in an exaggerated grimace as she bit into the tomato, trying to not smudge her thick coat of lipstick. “What was your name again?”
“Penelope Sutherland. I’ve enjoyed working with you,” Penelope said. She placed the plate on Arlena’s vanity table.
Arlena didn’t respond. She paced the length of the trailer, wringing her hands and muttering quietly. Penelope knew from that day’s call sheet that day Arlena was filming “the scene,” her toughest one of the week. She had to lay bare her feelings and beg for her life in front of Slash ’Em, a bigger than life, scary masked psychopath. A monster who always struck at night when the actresses were all half-naked. She figured Arlena was getting into character.
“I should get back to work. Let me know if you need
anything else, Miss Madison,” Penelope said to Arlena’s back. When she didn’t turn around or respond, Penelope stepped quietly to the door.
Arlena spun towards her suddenly. “Would you come and be my chef? I could use someone like you…someone I can trust who will be there for me, keep things together for me at home.”
“Wow,” Penelope said, surprised at the sudden offer. She thought for a moment. “I’m not sure I’d be able to. I’m planning on starting my own theatrical catering business…it’s been my dream for a long time.”
“Why can’t you do both? Come be my live-in chef, cook for me when I’m home. You get your company set up, I won’t get in the way of that…and I’ll be sure to request you on my future projects. I get what I ask for a lot of the time.” Arlena ran her hands through her hair as she walked to the vanity table. She picked up a slice of cucumber and popped it into her mouth.
Penelope did some quick math in her head, thinking about the money she’d saved and her current income from the movie. If she could reduce her living expenses by moving in with Arlena, and get paid to cook for her on top of it, she could get her company off of the ground much quicker than she’d originally planned.
“When would you like me to start?” Penelope said.
Penelope packed up her tiny apartment in two days and moved into Arlena’s renovated brick mansion in Glendale, New Jersey. Penelope had never lived in a town where all the houses were beautiful and neighbors gathered regularly for dinner at the country club. She’d never considered her family poor, but she did grow up on the rougher side of the tracks. Arlena’s street was usually quiet, populated by domestic divas and their professional husbands who commuted into Manhattan, only forty minutes away by train. Penelope’s favorite room in the house, after the sleek and well-appointed kitchen, was the library with its oversized stone fireplace. She loved cuddling up under a blanket to read or watch a movie in there whenever she had an evening off.
Murder on a Silver Platter (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 1) Page 4
