Murder on a Silver Platter (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 1) (10 page)

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 thought 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.

“I suppose. So what do you have planned for today, Pen?”

“Not sure yet. I never know what to do with myself when I have a big stretch of free time.”

“You’re always working. It’s time to relax,” Max said. He grabbed her hand and twirled her around in a circle then pulled her close and they swayed for a second in front of the sink.

Penelope pushed him away gently. “Oh yeah, and before…with the butt slap thing?” Penelope perched a hand on her hip and looked sternly at him as he continued to sway to the music in his head. “Unless you’re invited, this is a hands-off zone,” she said motioning at her behind.

Max stopped swaying and his face became serious. “You’re right, Pen. Absolutely right. I will wait until I’m invited, and until then I will dream about your hands-off zone.” He grabbed her hands and began to sway with her again.

Penelope pushed him away playfully. “Max, you’re impossible.”

“No, I can be difficult at times but I’m totally possible.” He spun her around in a twirl. Penelope let herself sway with him for a moment longer.

Finally she said, “You’re right about one thing. I am going to relax today. Starting with a long bath upstairs.” She broke away from him and headed towards the hall and the staircase beyond.

“Sounds good. You enjoy yourself. If you want some company yell and I’ll be right up…” Max called after her.

Penelope started the bath water and pulled off her pajamas. She poured two drops of lavender scented oil into the steamy water and lowered herself down, closing her eyes and slouching so the water came up over her shoulders. Penelope attempted to clear her mind, trying her best to think of nothing, focusing only on the hot water loosening her muscles. But eventually her thoughts turned to Holly Anderson. She grimaced as she pushed the image of Holly’s pretty frozen face out of her mind and focused instead on the other pictures she’d seen of her, when she was an alive and vibrant young girl. Now that she’d met Randall Madison in person, she tried to compare his face with Holly’s.

Then she thought about Joey and a smile spread across her lips. She kept her eyes closed and pictured him from the night before in his tight t-shirt, whispering in her ear. Then she frowned, remembering the lipstick on the wine glass and her stiff goodbye to him. Rolling her eyes internally, Penelope shifted in the tub and tried to bring her thoughts back to a neutral place. She wasn’t doing a good job of relaxing. Her mind at least. Her body felt like it had turned to lead in the water.

Just then her phone buzzed in the bedroom. The door to the bathroom was slightly open and her phone was on her vanity table.

The sun streamed through the windows and Penelope guessed it was probably around eleven. The bath water had turned tepid and she decided to get out and see who was calling, hoping it wasn’t anything work related.

She wrapped herself in a large white towel and padded into the bedroom onto the soft carpet, grabbing her phone off of the vanity as she went. She sat on the bed and opened the screen. “Joey: missed call & voicemail” blinked back at her.

She lightly tossed the phone onto the bed, standing up and letting the towel drop to the floor. She pulled on a pair of comfortable jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt before listening to the voicemail. She pulled the soft rubber band slowly from her ponytail as she listened.

“Penny, hi, it’s Joey. I’d like to come by later today and speak with you and Arlena if that’s possible. Give me a call back and let me know. Thanks and have a good day.”

Penelope pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at the screen. Suddenly Joey, the one with the wine and cheese from last night, was all business. She listened to the message again and then slipped her phone into her back pocket and headed downstairs.

Everyone was gathered in the library, lounging in front of the lit fireplace. Sam and Arlena sat almost on top of each other on one end of the sofa and Max and Randall sat in the matching club chairs that flanked it. Zazoo happily chewed on a thin rawhide stick under the coffee table. The TV was covered up by the sliding bookcase and they were all looking at a scrapbook that was open on the square slate coffee table. Randall was flipping the pages and pointing out different pictures and articles to them. Penelope stopped in the doorway, debating whether or not to interrupt them. She rapped lightly on the door frame to get their attention.

“There you are. We’re looking at some old stuff from when I worked with Sal. Some of them go way back…before these two were even a glimmer.” Randall winked at Max.

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude on you guys,” Penelope said.

“Pen, please, don’t be silly. Sit down,” Arlena said, patting the couch cushion next to her.

“Thanks,” Penelope said, taking a seat.

“This was one of the first movies I made with Sal,” Randall said, pointing to a black and white photograph. In it Randall was shirtless, his hair cut in a military style buzz cut, his eyes wild and glassy with tears.

“
The Private Army
, right Dad?” Max said.

“Yep. Filmed that one out in Brooklyn. Low budget, which is Sal’s middle name. This was his first three-week shoot. Back then it was because he had no money and he was trying to film as many projects as possible. Now he’s become known for those…and for his big blockbusters, of course.”

Arlena nodded. “It means so much that he called me for this, Daddy. I was afraid I would never get off the B-movie path.”

Randall gazed lovingly at his daughter. “You’re starting out, proving yourself. I know you’ve got what it takes. Now you’ll have a chance to show everyone. Sal’s good at finding diamonds in the rough like you and me.”

Arlena sighed. “I appreciate that. It’s hard because you take jobs when you’re starting out because you need the work and the credits, but then you get pigeonholed as only being that one thing. I was terrified I’d never break out and no one would take me seriously until Sal called.”

“You’re doing fine. Peter’s a solid agent and he’s going to get you on the right path,” Randall said.

“I hope so. I’ve got this movie right now but nothing after it lined up. This is my big break. If it doesn’t do well, I’m not sure what will happen. I can’t go back to working for Brett either. That bridge is burned.”

“Who’s Brett?” Randall asked sharply.

“The
Slash ’Em
director, Brett Ralston. He said I’d never work again after I walked off that movie. I don’t feel comfortable with on screen nudity. I’m not sure I’ll ever be.” She glanced at Sam, who nodded.

“Screw him,” Randall said, an edge coming into his voice. “He makes threats against my little girl, he’ll be sorry. I promise you that.”

“Daddy, I don’t want to work with him anyway.”

“That’s not the point. He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. Anyone tries to hurt either of you,” he pointed at Max and Arlena, “you let me know. Some of these snot-nosed young directors working today don’t know their asses from Fellini. They’re living in the house that I helped build.”

An uneasy silence fell across the group.

“Working for scale barely covered the bills when I was starting out. But we all did it to be part of something with Sal,” Randall’s tone became lighter, his anger momentarily forgotten as he glanced back down at the image of his younger self.

Randall flipped a page in the book and unfolded a yellowing article that had been taped next to a couple of movie stubs. “This is the
New York Times
review of the movie,” Randall said. “A rave. Called Sal a genius which he is. But he was new on the scene then. We all were.”

“You could find that review online in the archives of the
Times
, Dad,” Max said. “Probably a bunch of pictures of the shoot too.”

“Let me ask you something, kiddo. You have a scrapbook? Anything where you keep a history of your achievements? Photos? Articles about yourself?”

“No, Dad. I can find all of that stuff online,” Max said with playful impatience.

“That’s true, son. I’m sure you can. But what happens when the electricity goes out? Then you have nothing,” Randall said, closing the scrapbook.

“Daddy, leave that here for a bit. I want to see more of it,” Arlena said.

“I’ll be back in a while,” Randall said, standing up and stretching. “But I’m taking you all out to dinner tonight.”

Penelope turned to Arlena. “Joey…Detective Baglioni…left me a message saying he wanted to ask us some more questions.”

“Oh,” Arlena said, deflating a bit. “Today?”

“Yeah,” Penelope said. “I met with him last night and he has a few new leads he’s working on. Both with Holly and with, well…” She sighed, glancing away from Arlena. Gathering herself, she began again. “Something made me think what happened to you on set yesterday wasn’t an accident. Kelley and I think someone might have messed with your makeup, so I took it to Joey. I planned to tell you this morning, but with everyone here it didn’t seem the right time.”

Arlena’s eyes took on a hard edge. “What do you mean ‘messed with’, Pen?”

“Someone might have tampered with your makeup, used it to trigger an allergic reaction.”

“Are you saying that someone is intentionally trying to hurt me?”

Penelope placed her hand on Arlena’s upper arm. “I don’t know, Arlena. But I’m worried about you. A girl gets murdered outside our house, and then there are two separate incidents with you on set this week? I mean, it’s hard to think that’s all a coincidence. What if someone really is trying to hurt you?”