Murder on a Silver Platter (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 1)

by Shawn Reilly Simmons

  “Not really…I called to talk to him about what happened today and he asked me to stop by. I had something for him, something to do with what happened with Arlena, and he asked me to drop it by on my way home.”

  “Well, it sounds like he got rid of the pink lipstick lady when he knew you were coming over,” Max said, sipping his wine. “If I make dinner for a girl at my place I usually don’t want her to leave right after, if you know what I mean.”

  Penelope contemplated that as they both turned their attention to the screen.

  After a few minutes, Max turned the volume down and said, “What did he say about the girl?” He nodded towards the street in front of the house.

  Penelope laid her head against the back of the couch. “He thinks she was trying to prove she was related to you. That maybe she thought she was your sister.”

  “Oh, man.” Max shook his head and ran his hand through his unruly black hair. “I remember when I finally met Dad. I was five and he came and took me and my mom out to dinner. Stayed with us for a week. It was awesome. He took me to the zoo and we camped out in a tent in the backyard. Lots of fun stuff.” Max looked down into the bowl of popcorn. “Then he had to go, flew off to Helsinki to film a movie for six months. There were other visits and he took care of me and my mom. Always sent money, gifts on my birthday, Christmas, you know. That week was the best, though.”

  “It’s nice you guys are close now. All of you.”

  “But if Holly Anderson was really Holly Madison, I didn’t know about her. Dad never mentioned the name Holly to me. I heard about Arlena growing up. And Anthony, our brother in Texas. He’s still a kid, about twelve now, I think. And we have another ten-year-old sister in California named Saffron, but she’s never been in contact with us.”

  “Do you know of any others?” Penelope stifled a yawn.

  “No, but Dad’s been making movies for thirty years everywhere in the world. I guess anything is possible. I might have a sister in Helsinki.” He chuckled.

  Penelope nodded, took a sip of wine and placed her glass back on the table. “Hand me that blanket?” she asked, pointing to a soft cashmere throw on the back of the couch. It was the same deep caramel color as the furniture. Max handed it to her and she draped it over her legs, turning her attention back to the movie.

  “Penny,” a warm whisper tickled her ear.

  “Hmm…” Penelope mumbled sleepily.

  “You want me to take you to bed?” Max whispered to her.

  Penelope’s eyes sprang open and she saw movie credits crawling up the big screen. The room was lit by the candle and the TV, the fire having died down to embers. The wine bottle stood empty next to the half-empty bowl of popcorn.

  “Sure. You can take me to bed,” Penelope said wearily. “I can’t get up. I’m exhausted.” She closed her eyes again, drifting back to sleep.

  Max flipped off the TV. He blew out the candle and scooped her up off of the couch, carrying her easily in his long muscular arms. Penelope curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder as he made his way out of the library, up the stairs and into her bedroom. By the time they got to her room Penelope was dozing off again. Max pulled back her soft down-filled comforter and laid her gently down on the bed, leaning over her to arrange the sheets over her. Penelope rolled onto her side, tucking her arm under her pillow and snuggling it to her face. She reached up and placed a hand on Max’s cheek. “Thanks, Max,” she whispered.

  Max pulled Penelope’s comforter up to her shoulder and smoothed a strand of her hair back over her ear. He hesitated a minute and then leaned down, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

  “Good night, Pen.” He stepped quietly from the room, turning off the light switch as he left.

  Chapter 15

  Rumbling thunder mixed with Zazoo’s barrage of piercing barks woke Penelope the next morning. She opened her eyes, saw bright sunshine peeking through the blinds and wondered how it could be thundering. She’d been dreaming about Joey. For some reason they were having a dinner party at Joey’s mother’s house and Penelope had brought Irish soda bread. Joey’s mother had never heard of it. Penelope was trying to explain why it was called soda bread, but Joey’s mom kept nodding and not understanding, responding to her only in Italian. They were eating outside under a pergola in a huge sweeping backyard that looked more like Napa Valley or Sicily. Penelope was sure Joey’s real backyard growing up was only a small patch of grass like hers had been behind the attached brownstones that lined Mott Street. He had lived on one end of the street and she on the other when they were in grade school. Penelope hadn’t been on Mott Street since her parents packed up and moved to Florida right after she graduated from high school.

  The rumbling ended abruptly and Penelope realized it was a car engine outside her window, not thunder.

  She sat up in bed and stretched her arms lazily over her head. She heard a low mumble of sleepy voices downstairs and then the front door opening. Then the voices became more animated. Penelope rolled out of bed and made her way to her adjoining bathroom. She took a peek out of the window and saw a shiny black Shelby Mustang with Pennsylvania license plates parked behind Sam’s Hummer in the driveway.

  Penelope followed the voices into the kitchen as she made her way downstairs. When she entered the room she saw Sam sitting at the kitchen island smiling at Randall Madison, who was holding Arlena up in the air in a bear hug, Zazoo tap dancing around his feet.

  “There’s my baby girl.” Randall Madison’s smoky voice was deep and gravelly. He was at least six foot four and he held Arlena up in the air effortlessly.

  “Daddy, I’m so glad you’re here.”

  Randall set her back down but kept her in a tight hug, Arlena disappearing behind his thick arms. “How are you doing, pumpkin?” He pulled away to look at her face.

  “I’m good, Daddy. When did you get back?”

  He continued to study her face, then glanced over at Sam. “I just got here. Drove all night from Pittsburgh after we wrapped,” he said, his New Jersey accent clipping through his words. “Max called, said there was some trouble. You’re hurt?” Concern pinched his handsome face.

  “I’m better now.” Arlena reached over and grabbed Sam’s hand. They were both dressed in warm flannel pajamas and looked well rested. Arlena’s lips had gone back to their normal size, still full and puffy but as they should be, not overblown by her allergies. Her skin was once again healthy and radiant looking.

  “Good morning, Pen,” Max said quietly into her ear as he snuck up behind her and made his way into the kitchen. “You made good time, huh, Dad?” Max and Randall hugged each other roughly, swaying on their feet. Max was slightly shorter and thinner than his dad, but you could tell they were father and son by their similar builds and shiny black hair.

  “Five hours on the road. The shoot is over and I’ve got a few weeks before the next one,” he said, glancing at Penelope. Zazoo sat at attention, staring up at Randall.

  “Hi, Mr. Madison, I’m Penelope.” She walked towards him with her hand extended.

  Randall Madison looked down at her and took her small hand in his large one, his hardened features softening around his eyes. “Penelope, I’ve heard a lot about you.” He bent down and kissed her knuckles.

  “All good things, I hope,” Penelope stammered. She figured she was still back in her dream world because iconic film legend Randall Madison was kissing her hand in her own kitchen.

  “Excellent things. Thanks for looking out for Arlena. Max said you were there for her when she got sick on set. I won’t forget that.” He let go of Penelope’s hand and pulled her into a hug, crushing her against his chest. His jacket smelled like burnt cherry cigar smoke, pleasant and manly.

  Penelope felt the crushing weight of his arms on her. She pulled out of the hug and noticed everyone was watching them. Suddenly self-conscious, she
announced, “Who’s hungry?”

  “I am,” Sam said loudly.

  “What are we all in the mood for?”

  “Pancakes. Definitely pancakes,” Sam said.

  “Sounds good,” Penelope said. She went to the stove and began pulling some pans out of the neighboring cabinet.

  “Sam Cavanaugh,” Randall said. He walked over to Sam and slapped him heartily on the back. He then pulled off his leather jacket and handed it to Max. “Hang this up for me, will ya, kiddo?”

  “Sure, Dad.” Max took the heavy jacket and hung it on one of the iron hooks by the door.

  “Randall Madison. Nice to meet you, sir,” Sam said, shaking his hand firmly.

  Randall slid onto the stool next to Sam. Penelope glanced over and saw the two men sizing each other up. Randall was dark and lean in contrast with Sam’s muscular California Golden Boy looks.

  Max moved behind the island to Penelope’s side and draped his arm across her shoulders. “Can I help?” he leaned down to ask.

  “Sure. Grab me some lemons and there’s a package of blueberries in the crisper. And get the cinnamon sticks and vanilla beans from the pantry.”

  “Will do.” He winked at her and moved towards the pantry. Penelope blushed, suddenly remembering Max carrying her up the stairs the night before. She glanced quickly at his back as he stood surveying the pantry items and then flipped on the gas range. Blue flames licked the bottoms of the skillets.

  “So it looks like you two are enjoying working together on Sal’s movie,” Randall said, shifting on his stool. He was still facing Sam, looking directly at him as he addressed both him and Arlena.

  “We are. Right, babe?” Sam said, putting his arm around Arlena. She stood next to his stool, keeping some space between herself and Sam. Penelope noticed Arlena was acting stiffly, a big difference from the last few days of being stuck like glue to Sam’s side. Maybe she didn’t want to be too affectionate in front of her dad. They’d been caught together in their pajamas, so there was no denying they were friends…close friends.

  “We are, Daddy,” she said. “Sam’s been a rock during everything…the shoot, rehearsals, and everything else.”

  “It’s nothing.” Sam pulled her again into his side. “I like being there for you.”

  Penelope began to whisk pancake batter in a large yellow bowl on the opposite side of the island. She kept her gaze downward, focusing on the food, trying to give them as much privacy as possible. Which wasn’t much. Zazoo went to sit on his bed but kept his eyes trained on everyone at the counter.

  “Are you together now? Or did you invite yourself to sleep over because of what happened to Arlena yesterday?” Randall asked, his focus still on Sam.

  Max turned halfway around from his place in front of the pantry and Penelope stopped whisking. All attention turned to Arlena and Sam.

  “Daddy!” Arlena said, pulling away from Sam.

  “What? I’m just asking. You guys look really…comfortable together, is all.”

  “Arlena is a great girl, Mr. Madison,” Sam said, still pulling a resisting Arlena towards him.

  “That’s right, Sam. That’s something you shouldn’t forget,” Randall said. He picked up a stray paper clip off of the counter and began to bend it out of shape.

  “You don’t have to worry about that, sir,” Sam said. Penelope couldn’t tell if Sam was intimidated by Randall or not. He seemed like he was trying to be respectful…as respectful as you can be in your pajamas fresh out of bed with a man’s daughter.

  “Arlena is a grown woman, very capable and smart. I’m not worried about her.” Randall twisted the paperclip between his thick fingers. “But I’d worry about you, Sam, if Arlena gets hurt by you in this.” He finished twisting the clip and laid it down on the counter, folding his hands together.

  Penelope and Max went back to making the pancakes. Penelope realized she still hadn’t talked to Arlena about her relationship with Sam, but assumed they must be together by now. But then she supposed it didn’t matter one way or another, as long as they were happy. She handed the bowl of batter to Max and he began ladling circles of batter into the hot pans. Penelope rinsed the blueberries that she would mix with sugar and cinnamon as a topping for the pancakes.

  “I love Sam very much,” Arlena said suddenly and clearly to no one in particular.

  Once again, all movement stopped in the room and everyone looked at Arlena. Sam smiled knowingly at her and pulled her onto his lap. “I love you too.” They kissed lightly on the lips.

  Randall said, “That settles that then.”

  Beyoncé’s “Crazy in Love” played loudly from the corner of the kitchen where Arlena and Penelope charged their phones.

  “Oh, that’s my phone,” Arlena said, bounding behind the island to answer it.

  “Subtle ring tone, sis.” Max chuckled, flipping perfectly golden pancakes to finish the other sides.

  “Shut up, Max,” Arlena said. “Hello?” she said into the phone. “Oh, hi Sal.”

  The others fell silent, listening to Arlena’s side of the conversation and Sal’s muted responses from the phone.

  “I appreciate that, Sal. Thanks for calling…yes, I’m good now. Nothing to worry about.”

  Arlena shifted her weight from one foot to the other, the hand not holding the phone nervously twisting a strand of her hair.

  “Tomorrow? Um…” She glanced at Randall. “I’d love to, Sal, but my father is in town and my brother is also visiting.”

  The murmuring grew louder and Penelope heard Sal laughing on the other end of the line.

  “I’ll find out if they can and let you know before tomorrow,” Arlena said. “And I’m sorry if I’ve delayed us…”

  Penelope distinctly heard Sal cut in. “No way. You’re doing great and everything is fine.”

  “Thanks for saying that, Sal. I’ll be in touch about dinner. Bye.” Arlena touched the screen to end her call and slid onto the stool next to her dad.

  “Sal has invited all of us to dinner at his house tomorrow,” Arlena said to them. “I told him you were in town, Daddy, and he said he hopes you’ll come too.”

  Randall said, “Sunday dinner at Sal Marco’s house? I wouldn’t miss it. He’s famous for those. Back in the old days we would meet every Sunday…all the actors and writers, some of the crew…we’d eat, drink and talk about whatever project we were on. One of Sal’s morale boosting tactics.”

  Max slid pancakes onto a platter on the counter.

  Penelope eased up beside him and placed ramekins of cinnamon and blueberry infused syrup next to them and a stack of plates for them to serve themselves. “Max, these look delicious.”

  “They were made with love. It was easy.” Max reached down and patted her lightly on the behind.

  Penelope froze, her cheeks flaring pink. She knew he was just being Max but this crossed the line.

  Penelope had fought off a few gropers in culinary school and that behavior always set her on edge. As Max leaned over to hand out plates across the island she patted him back, right in the same place.

  “Whoa. Thanks, Pen.”

  “Max, knock it off,” Arlena said. “Seriously, I love you, but grow up.”

  Sam and Randall chuckled as they dug into their pancakes, focusing on their plates.

  “Sal’s going to call and invite you too, Sam.” Arlena leaned forward and talked across Randall. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell him you were here,” she added quietly.

  “It’s fine, Arlena,” Sam said after swallowing a mouthful of pancake. “He’s the boss but we don’t have to tell anyone anything until we’re ready.”

  “He invited you too, Pen.” Arlena stabbed a pancake and quickly transferred it to her plate before the fork gave up its hold.

  “That a surprise. I th
ought he’d still be angry with me about yesterday. The last time I saw Sal he was yelling at me.”

  “Salvatore is all bark, very little bite,” Randall said, not looking up from his plate. “Plus, he wants everyone to be happy and get along. A happy crew is easier to work with. Maybe he wants to apologize to you, Penelope.”

  “He doesn’t need to do that,” Penelope said.

  “If you weren’t there,” Randall continued, “it might have ended differently, with Arlena in the hospital. You stopped it before it got really bad. He should be thanking you.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Madison,” Penelope said, finally pulling a pancake onto a plate for herself after she was sure everyone had enough.

  “It’s Randall. And these pancakes are delicious, son. Good to know you know how to use your hands for more than one thing.”

  Max made a face at him and took a sip of coffee.

  “So it’s agreed. Dinner at Sal’s tomorrow,” Randall said, pushing back from his plate. “Just like the old days.”

  Chapter 16

  Max helped Penelope clean up after breakfast. He loaded dishes and glasses into the dishwasher while she washed the utensils and bowls in the deep stainless sink. Arlena and Sam had gone to her room to get dressed for the day and Randall, after retrieving a large duffel bag from his Mustang, was unpacking his clothes in one of the larger guest rooms.

  “Tasty pancakes,” Max said.

  “They sure were. Thanks for helping,” Penelope agreed. “So I guess that’s it then. Sam and Arlena are together.”

  “It was kind of obvious, I suppose,” he said, shrugging. “I like him better than Vance. When she was with him he always made me feel like an intruder.” He finished loading the machine and closed the door. “It’s good she’s happy, you know?” He wiped his hands on a dish towel.

  “It seems mutual, which is good for both of them. It’s never good when the affection is only one sided,” Penelope said. She turned off the water and took the towel from him, drying her hands also.