Penelope settled into bed, feeling a wave of exhaustion come over her as she ate. She forced herself to eat every drop of the soup, even though it was a struggle to stay awake.
“Here, take another one of these before you fall asleep,” Arlena said, shaking out another pain pill from the vial.
“Ugh. I hate taking those,” Penelope said. “They make me feel fuzzy.”
“Well, it’s just temporary. It’s better than being in a lot of pain, right? You’ll rest easier.”
“I guess,” Penelope said, accepting the little pill and washing it down with some tea. “Ginger tea...that’s the second time today I’ve heard that,” Penelope said, yawning. Her eyes were slipping closed even as she fought to keep them open.
“Sienna got me into it,” Arlena said, taking a sip. She reached over and grabbed the remote, flipping on the TV. “It settles your stomach. Like ginger ale, but without all the sugar.”
Penelope gazed at the screen, her eyes slipping closed. Something nipped at the edge of her mind, but floated away as she fell deeper into the softness of sleep. The last thing she remembered before drifting off was Arlena tucking the blanket over her shoulders and whispering, “Goodnight, Pen.”
Chapter 24
When Penelope woke the next morning, she was still in her robe under the blankets in the same position she had fallen asleep. She’d slept for almost ten hours, and it felt like she hadn’t moved at all. She reached for her phone on the nightstand, the home screen alerting her to several texts from the night before. She scrolled through them quickly, disappointed none of them were from Joey.
The first was from Arlena. “Rest well. Call me when you wake up. I extended your room a few days and got a suite here for me & Daddy.”
The next message was from Francis. “Meeting the produce order outside Crawford at 4. See you tonight.” Penelope perked up at the thought of the long night ahead of her.
The next one was from Officer Gomez. “Max’s GF turned herself in, being questioned by the detectives. Call me later re: Sotheby.”
Right as she finished reading that, a new text popped up on her screen. It was from Arlena and simply said, “Turn on CNW. Disaster.”
Penelope looked around for the remote and turned on the TV, flipping through the unfamiliar channels until she found CNW, the Celebrity News Network. She tried not to watch CNW as a rule, because their “news” and talk shows seemed to mostly involve celebrities getting ambushed coming out of clubs or being chased in airports while reporters shouted inappropriate, rude questions. Their legitimate stories were infrequent.
There was a commercial on, advertising one of their shows later in the day, but a news scroll at the bottom of the screen caught her eye. “Max Madison arrested for murder in love triangle gone bad.”
“Oh no,” Penelope said under her breath.
The commercial ended and a reporter came on the screen, standing outside the police station where Penelope had been the previous morning. She wore a low-cut blouse and bright red lipstick and was clearly excited to be there.
“Max Madison is in police custody awaiting a bail hearing this morning. Murder allegations have been made against Mr. Madison concerning the death of a popular Manhattan club promoter, Christian Alves. Alves had previous convictions for drug offenses and it remains to be seen if his murder is drug related, or the result of a love triangle with Max’s on-again, off-again girlfriend, Hannah Devore. Several sources say Alves and Madison were both involved with Devore, a notorious party girl and daughter of Niles and Chastity Devore…”
Penelope muted the television and picked up her phone, dialing Arlena.
“Pen, how are you feeling?” Arlena asked. It sounded like she was outside and out of breath.
“Better, thanks. I just saw the news about Max.” Penelope glanced up at the TV again and saw Randall’s face staring back at her. The network was showing a still shot from one of his older movies, the caption beneath reading, “Famous Son Arrested.”
“It’s terrible,” Arlena said.
“Where are you?” Penelope asked. She watched a taped segment of Randall approaching the police station, obviously from the night before, and then putting his hand over a camera lens when it got too close to his face. The shot cut to another camera’s view of him smashing the first camera onto the sidewalk and pushing a reporter into a row of bushes.
“I’m heading to the courthouse now for Max’s bail hearing,” Arlena said.
“I got a message from Officer Gomez that they’ve been questioning Hannah,” Penelope said. “Maybe she can help clear up what happened.”
Arlena laughed harshly. “That little...she’s not helping at all. She’s saying Max did it, that he shot Christian out of jealousy over her.”
“What?” Penelope said. Her scalp started tingling, and the sensation moved all the way down to her shoulders. “I can’t believe that.”
“That’s what the lawyer is telling us she said. Max swears it’s a lie, but it’s his word against hers right now.”
Penelope thought for a minute. “I saw her making out with Christian in the ladies room the night of the fashion show.”
“I can’t believe that little tramp. It’s bad enough to lie, mess around with his feelings, but now she’s playing around with murder charges.”
“I know. Why would she do this?” Penelope asked.
“I don’t know…look, I have to get inside before they start. Don’t tell anyone else about what you saw at the club, okay? It only makes Max look guiltier. I’ll call you back after I deal with Max and then Daddy.”
“Was he arrested too? I just saw what happened last night on TV.”
“No, thank God. The reporter said he’d press charges, but Daddy offered him money for the camera and said he’d give him an exclusive about Max. So we’re okay.”
Penelope was relieved at least this one thing might have gone their way.
“I’ll check back with you later,” Arlena said, ending the call.
Penelope made her way to the bathroom and flipped on the overhead light, looking at her face in the mirror. It was puffy from all of the sleep and medication, and the skin around her eye had darkened to blackish purple all the way around and up her forehead. The gash on her eyebrow was covered in a dark purple scab. “Lovely.”
Penelope showered quickly, gently toweled her face dry, then attempted to apply enough foundation to cover the bruises on her face. When she was through, they were more light purple than dark, but it was still obvious she had taken a hit to the face. She pulled a t-shirt over her head and slipped on her last pair of clean jeans. Penelope decided she’d have to pick up some clothes if she was going to extend her stay in the city. It was a lot nicer than making the trip back and forth to New Jersey, especially with all that had been going on. Her phone buzzed in the other room just as she finished getting dressed. She hurried to answer it, her heart lifting in her chest when she saw Joey’s name on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Penny, it’s me,” Joey said. His voice sounded strange, but she was so glad to hear from him, she put that aside.
“Joey, I’ve been so worried about you,” Penelope said.
“I got your last message. I’m sorry I couldn’t call you until I got back in a cell area. I’ve been stuck up in the mountains in the snow, had to pull off the road for a few hours at one point. Are you okay?”
“I’m okay now,” Penelope said, relieved to be talking to him. “I sprained my wrist and bruised some ribs.”
Joey was silent for a moment. “I’m worried about you, Penny.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m still upstate, heading south down to you. I’ve been driving for a while, should be back soon depending on the roads. I got suspended from work, two weeks without pay, so I decided to take an unscheduled vacation. Then this happened to you.”
/>
“Why were you suspended?” Penelope asked.
“For firing my weapon off duty, and for being under the influence of alcohol at the time. They only have my word that I was pursuing a suspect, and that I shot him. The guy I was chasing is in the wind, and no one has come forward to turn him in. I can’t even prove it happened. Unfortunately, my word doesn’t mean much to them right now. They tried to give me a month’s suspension, but my union rep pointed out I’ve never been in trouble before, so they knocked it down to two weeks.”
Penelope sat down on the edge of the bed. “Joey, I’m so sorry.”
Joey sighed on the other end of the phone. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re okay, and you’re keeping yourself safe until I can get back.”
After a few seconds of silence Penelope said, “I will. I miss you.”
“I miss you too, Penny,” Joey said. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. I hate knowing you’re hurt. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Yes, I promise. I really wish you were here, Joey,” Penelope said, trying to keep her voice strong.
“I’m sorry I left. I was angry, and being selfish about it. It won’t happen again.”
“Okay, call me when you get back,” Penelope said. She felt a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
“I love you,” Joey murmured before saying a quick goodbye and ending the call.
As she listened to the dead air over the phone, Penelope realized she was fighting for air, struggling to bring in a complete breath, the urge to be with him was so strong. She closed her eyes and imagined he was there holding her, protecting her from everything that was happening. She opened them again and her vision blurred behind the tears she’d been fighting.
She cleared her throat and wiped her eyes, glancing at the muted television. A series of images flashed across the screen: Max, Arlena, Randall, Hannah. She picked the remote and turned it off.
Chapter 25
Penelope walked through the streets of Tribeca, only vaguely noticing the people passing by her on the street. The sounds of traffic and conversation flowed around her, and she felt like a salmon swimming upstream against a current of anonymous strangers, just another soul in the crowd. She stuffed her hands into her jeans pockets, her purse bouncing lightly on her hip.
She shivered in the chilly morning air, deciding to stop in the next store she saw where she could buy a jacket or a sweatshirt. Penelope noticed a few people taking quick glances at the splint on her arm or at her poorly camouflaged bruises, but most people just looked away, unwilling to think about or get involved in problems not their own.
Penelope stopped in a clothing shop a few minutes later and bought a gray fleece jacket with a hood and I ❤ NY embroidered on the chest in pink. She pulled it on and headed into the diner next door for some breakfast. After slipping into a small booth in the back and ordering some eggs and coffee, she pulled her phone from her purse and scrolled through her recent calls to find the one from Gary on the production team.
“Yeah?” he answered, irritation in his voice.
“Gary? This is Penelope from catering.”
“What do you need?”
“I’ve been in an accident and I’m injured. I wanted to let you know I might not be able make it through the whole night. But my team will be there, and they’re more than capable of handling everything you’ll need.”
Gary laughed. “No, no, no. The contract says we get five chefs every filming day. Unless you have someone to replace you, we’ll let you guys go and call in the next catering company down on the bid sheet to take over the job.”
Penelope sat stunned. “You’d fire us because I’ve been in an accident and can’t use my hand? You’re running a small set. Four chefs are more than enough to serve dinner for fifty people.”
“Whatever. If you can’t fulfil the contract, we’ll call someone who can.”
Penelope thought about what he was saying, then about her crew. She knew Francis was putting the last bit of money together for a down payment on a new condo, and one of the others was saving up for an engagement ring. She didn’t have another job lined up for them at the moment, and didn’t want to cause them any financial worries.
“Fine. We’ll all be there for the whole night,” Penelope said, rolling her eyes. She didn’t look up when the waitress set her coffee mug down in front of her.
“Call time is five.” And he hung up on her once again.
“I really hate this shoot,” Penelope muttered. Her head ached dully behind her eyes and her wrist twinged in the splint. She’d decided against taking another pain pill this morning, wanting to remain sharp with her thoughts clear. With everything going on, she had a brief impulse to take two and crawl back under the covers to sleep until she could see Joey again. But she would only feel worse when she woke up, and she would’ve lost a whole day on top of it.
After breakfast she was restless, unsure of how to spend the afternoon before going to work. She decided to walk for a while, clear her head and go over everything that happened step by step again in her mind. Without really realizing it, she had walked back toward Max’s neighborhood, and decided to head to his building, in the off chance she might run into Hannah.
On her way to Max’s apartment, Penelope decided to stop at the corner of her accident. She could see both the restaurant where she’d had lunch and the entrance to Max’s building. She took a seat on a bench at the edge of the park and watched the traffic light change several times. Crowds of pedestrians gathered and waited, then flowed across the wide avenue with the light. She thought about how normal it all seemed, just an average street corner in Manhattan, nothing remarkable about it at all. Except for her, because it was the exact spot where someone almost took her life. Whether it was on purpose or a random act carried out by a stranger, the result was the same. Penelope had conflicting feelings of sorrow and anger, mixed with helplessness and sadness that someone could be so careless with another person’s life.
She saw a young couple being buzzed in through Max’s front door. She didn’t recognize them from the TV show, but she also wasn’t totally up on who all the stars were. Pushing herself carefully up from the bench, she moved to the crosswalk. She stood back from the curb, hanging on tightly to her purse and making sure no one was right behind her. The crosswalk light gave her the go-ahead, and she hurried across to Max’s building. She pressed the buzzer and looked up at the camera in the corner.
“Can I help you?” the voice asked.
“Hi, it’s Penelope Sutherland, Max’s friend. Can I come in?”
The door buzzed and she pulled it open, careful not to let it bounce off her injured wrist. Jimmy had stepped out from behind the reception desk to meet her in the lobby. He gave her a concerned onceover, ending with the splint on her wrist.
“Miss Sutherland,” Jimmy said. “Nice to see you again.”
“Thanks.”
“Max isn’t here,” Jimmy said, hesitation in his voice. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but—”
“Yes, I know he’s been arrested.”
Jimmy pulled his suit jacket down and crossed his arms in front of him, holding one wrist in the opposite hand. “What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Someone pushed me in front of a cab yesterday at the intersection just outside.”
“That was you? We heard all the commotion, but I didn’t realize...are you okay?”
“It could have been much worse. I was lucky.”
Jimmy gave her a sympathetic nod. “Some luck. This city is nuts sometimes.”
Penelope took a breath. “Jimmy, can I look at your surveillance footage from Tuesday of last week? Angel next door thinks he was in the bookstore that day with a woman. If I can prove it was someone else who…” Penelope trailed off when she realized he was already shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Miss Sutherland, but I can’t do that. I really like Max. He’s one of the nice ones, never any trouble. I want to help, but I could lose my job.” Jimmy paused and took another look at the bruises on Penelope’s face. “Tell you what. I have a break coming up. Why don’t you go next door and wait for me in the café? I’ll take a look and let you know if I see anything on the tape.” He looked over his shoulder at the reception desk. “I’ll send the other guy upstairs for something and see what I can find.”
“I really appreciate this, Jimmy. Thank you,” Penelope said, walking backwards towards the door.
Chapter 26
Read It and Weep was crowded for a Monday morning, with most of the café tables taken up by people typing on laptops or scribbling in journals, feeding off the free Wi-Fi and jazzy world music flowing from the overhead speakers. Penelope walked through the main section of the store, glancing at various tables stacked with books. Some featured new releases and some had a theme. A table near the front window had a sign on it that read, “If you like Agatha Christie, you’ll love these.” A nice selection of traditional mysteries was displayed below it. She saw a table dedicated to Poe, one to Stephen King, and a larger one with young adult titles.
Penelope went to the café and squinted at the chalkboard menu suspended from the ceiling. All the coffee drinks were organic, a few of them made from beans she hadn’t even heard of. “Can I get a pumpkin latte?” she asked, picking something familiar as she placed her order with the interestingly pierced and heavily tattooed barista behind the counter.
MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET Page 12
