Murder on a Silver Platter (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 1) (3 page)

Arlena said, “Sorry, Sal.”

“It’s okay, we’ll reset and start again.” Sal turned to Penelope. “You sure you didn’t recognize the guy?”

Penelope looked down at her shoes and put her hands on her hips, trying to remember. “I didn’t see his face, but if it was one of the assistants, I don’t know all of them by name.”

Sal stared at her and pulled the radio from his belt. Pressing the button, he said, “Have all of the interns and PAs report to set immediately.” He clicked off the radio and said to Penelope, “You’re going to point him out to me.”

The script supervisor watched him go and then turned to give Penelope one last shrug. It was her job to maintain continuity of the story during filming, so Penelope figured she got a good talking to by Sal before they figured out what had happened.

A few minutes later Penelope eyed the line of young people in front of her.

“No one will admit to delivering those phony script pages to Arlena,” Sal said. “Tell me who you saw and I’ll make sure they never set foot on another movie set.”

After walking up and down twice in front of them, Penelope said, “I can’t tell. It doesn’t look like any of them. He was taller, I think.”

Sal sighed, blowing out some frustration. “We’ve wasted enough time on this already. Let’s take five and start again.” He looked at Arlena. “Let’s do the scene like we originally rehearsed.”

Arlena nodded eagerly and the script supervisor rushed over, handing her what Penelope assumed were the correct script pages to refresh her memory.

Sal turned to Penelope. “You can go.”

Chapter 4

It was almost lunchtime the following day and Penelope was chopping flat leaf parsley to garnish a large tray of beautifully roasted salmon. She arranged lemon wedges around the edges of the tray and sprinkled the parsley, pressing on the fillets here and there with her finger to test for doneness. She had pulled one off to taste before plating them and she knew that they were perfect: medium rare and crispy on the outside. The kitchen truck smelled of roasted salmon, potatoes and fresh herbs, one of the best smells on earth, as far as Penelope was concerned.

“These are ready,” she said to Francis. He knelt down so his shoulder was level with the steel countertop and slid the tray onto it. He stood up and headed out of the kitchen truck and into the catering tent to place the fish on the serving table where the first of the crew had already lined up. They were also serving lemon and herb roasted chicken and veggie lasagna accompanied with roasted butternut squash, new potatoes with rosemary, wild rice and mushrooms and Brussels sprouts roasted with garlic. As always there were five cold salads to choose from including arugula and goat cheese, mixed baby greens, an Italian salad with Romaine lettuce, radicchio, and plain old iceberg for those crew members who preferred a basic salad.

Penelope walked up and down behind the long food tables as the guests came through, serving themselves from the steam tables and iced down salad bar. She loved watching the reactions of the diners when they saw her food for the first time. She had to admit it was fun to see what her more famous guests thought, the actors, directors and producers, but she also loved cooking for the teamsters, carpenters, grips and production office employees.

“Good job, Penelope.” Sal had noticed her behind the line as he came back over for seconds.

“Thanks, Sal. Glad you enjoyed it,” Penelope said. “Do you have any requests this week? Maybe I can make up for what happened earlier.”

“Sal, don’t make her do any extra work,” a thin blond woman strolled up behind him, her plate piled high with fresh spinach and a few strawberries.

Sal waved his hand at her. “This is my wife, Paige.”

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Marco,” Penelope said.

“You too. Thanks for lunch,” Paige added before popping a strawberry into her mouth and walking to one of the dining tables. She had a dog-eared paperback tucked under her arm with different colored sticky notes marking various pages. “Sal, I made some notes on dialogue I wanted to show you.”

He nodded at her quickly and then turned his attention back to Penelope. “You think you could do Italian one night? Maybe on Friday, kind of a celebration of our first week finished?”

“Sure. Let me work out a menu.”

“I know you can cook. Hopefully you can make a nice marinara for us.” He scooped some baby red potatoes onto his plate next to his second helping of chicken.

A faint police siren sounded in the distance, which wasn’t unusual in New Jersey on any given day, but after all of the police activity in her life recently, Penelope tilted her ear towards it. The radio hooked onto Penelope’s back pocket and the one clipped to Sal’s belt both came to life at once. One of the production assistants spoke nervously over the crackling walkie-talkie.

“On set EMT has been called to Main Street location. There’s been an accident. One of the principals is down.”

A crowd ran from the lot towards picturesque Main Street in South Point, New Jersey. Large spotlights up on tall stands and a tent set up for Sal’s team blocked the sidewalk. Traffic had been diverted from the street during a three-hour window that day for the crew. Several members of the crew milled around nervously in the middle of the street, but they were all looking in the same general direction.

Penelope ran alongside Sal who kept saying “Are you kidding me? Oh shit.” He was squeezing the radio tight in his fist, his knuckles white against his thick red fingers.

Penelope could see a group of people gathered around someone lying on the ground in the middle of the street. She tried to see who it was through the various arms and legs blocking her view.

“It’s Arlena,” Sal said hurriedly, picking up his pace.

Penelope sped up, shoving her way past a few crew members standing by one of the cameras. She vaguely noticed a group of onlookers standing on the curb on the other side of the traffic barricades, gawking at all of the activity. A few of them had their phones out, recording the scene. The movie cameras were in position but it didn’t look like they were rolling.

“Arlena!” Penelope shouted as she made her way to her friend lying prone in the street, her head propped up on a crumpled tan blazer. Penelope’s heart thudded through her sweater and her legs had turned rubbery. Sam Cavanaugh, the famous actor and Arlena’s co-star, was holding Arlena’s hand. Penelope could tell from his matching pants that it was his suit jacket wadded into a ball under her head. He was on his knees, his face inches from Arlena’s, whispering softly to her as she lay motionless, her legs and arms flat on the pavement. On the other side of Arlena were the movie’s two on-set EMTs. The lead EMT, a tiny woman with blond hair, was holding up Arlena’s eyelid and shining a small flashlight at her pupil.

“What the hell happened?” Sal shouted.

Several members of the crew stepped forward and started talking at once.

“Came out of nowhere…”

“…mowed her down from behind…”

“…she didn’t see him coming…her head hit the ground…”

The lead EMT brushed her bangs out of her eyes with the back of her latex-gloved hand. “Bring me a long board and a cervical collar,” she said to her assistant. He jumped up and hurried to the ambulance, grabbing the items she requested. When he returned, she took the collar from him and carefully placed it around Arlena’s neck. Then the two of them moved her onto the narrow board, being careful not to jostle her. Sam released Arlena’s hand right before they hoisted her up and rolled her into the back of the idling ambulance. Sal and Penelope stood by his side, Sal resting a hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“We’re taking her to the Medical Center over on Baker Street. Want to rule out a concussion,” the EMT said. “She has a welt here, probably the point of impact.” She indicated a place just above her own hairline. “Could be only a bad fall but when they lose consciousness, we have to check them out to be safe.”

Sal nodded. Penelope felt sick to her stomach and didn’t quite trust her legs to stay steady. “Should I go with her?”

The EMT shook her head. “It’s not necessary. We’re taking precautions. She’ll probably have a bad headache and a bump on her head. Like I said, I’d like the doctor to rule out anything more serious.” With that she turned on her heel and climbed into the back of the ambulance. Her assistant shut the door behind her and jogged over to the driver’s side door, hopped inside and quickly drove away with Penelope’s best friend and Sal’s leading lady tucked away inside.

“Christ. I cannot believe this is happening today,” Sal yelled, letting his anger overtake his worry. He spun around to glare at the mostly silent crew, still gathered in a loose huddle near the scene of the accident. Penelope and Sam stood dazed where the ambulance had been. Sam’s face was white underneath his tan camera makeup and he twisted his crumpled jacket in his fists.

“Sam, what happened?” Sal asked him, turning back to his leading man, grasping his muscular bicep. Sal spoke gently, trying to shake Sam from his shock and get him to focus.

“Ah, um…” Sam searched for words, not looking directly at them but all around instead, like he was trying to find his words on invisible cue cards. “We were running lines, walking our cues and then,” he drifted for a second, “and then she got run over by a golf cart. It’s crazy because I heard it speed up behind us right before…”

“Who was it?” Sal urged.

Sam held his palms up. “I didn’t see a face, whoever it was had on a ski mask, and the back window was covered with something, like black plastic, maybe a garbage bag, so I couldn’t see after they passed.”

“Someone ran over my leading lady and no one knows who it was?” Sal was shouting again now. “Do you know how much money this is costing me?”

The crew members seemed to shrink, shoulders sagging as they glanced at each other for an answer.

“You,” Sal waved over the Key Grip.

A thin man in a puffy jacket reluctantly walked over to Sal.

“You were hanging the camera?” Sal waved at a small crane on the other side of the street that held a camera, rigged to film a tracking shot.

The grip nodded, screwing up his blond features. “Yeah, Sal, but I didn’t see what happened. It was over in two seconds…I saw the cart hauling out of here. It was one of ours, though, that I know for sure.”

“How did you not see what happened? You had a bird’s-eye view of the street.” Sal paced angrily back and forth, clenching his fists. “The barricades are up. They were rehearsing, the street was cleared of traffic and there was no one else around. And what? Someone decided to drive through my movie? Not only that, but drive through and hit my lead actress and not even stop to see if she’s been injured?”

“I’m sorry, Sal,” the grip said. “I wish I could tell you what happened.” He glanced at his fellow crew mates, most of who were attempting not to make eye contact with him.

Sal laughed darkly, shaking his head. “You know what? If Arlena is not back here one hundred percent fine and ready to work tomorrow, I’m holding all of you personally responsible.” Sal stomped away angrily from his crew.

“Sam, are you okay?” Penelope asked, raising a hand to touch his shoulder but pulling back at the last minute.

Sam looked at her, still dazed. “I guess so.”

“Do you think someone did this on purpose?”

Sam nodded quickly. “I heard the cart speed up, and then they went even faster to get away. Didn’t stop or hesitate once.”

Penelope’s stomach did a slow turn. “Someone on the set, then,” she mumbled to herself. “Someone was aiming for her.”

Chapter 5

“Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.”

Penelope could hear Arlena’s voice coming from a room at the end of the hall. They were on the top floor of South Point Medical Center, in the most private room the facility could offer. The rubber soles of her Doc Marten boots squished against the linoleum floor as she made her way through the quiet hallway towards room 608. She had Arlena’s large Marc Jacobs tote bag slung over one shoulder and her long black coat draped over her arm. She’d grabbed them both from Arlena’s trailer before she’d left for the hospital.

“Ouch!” Arlena said once again. Penelope poked her head into the room and saw a short Indian man in a white coat pressing gently on Arlena’s scalp in different places. A plastic badge that read Dr. Amit Singh was clipped to his jacket pocket. Arlena’s shiny black hair was fanned out on the pillow and she had dark red lipstick on. If Penelope hadn’t known about the accident she might think Arlena was filming a scene for a medical drama on Lifetime.

“Miss Madison, you’re going to be fine,” Dr. Singh said. “I’m releasing you back to work tomorrow. I’d like you to go home now and rest until then.” His voice was soft and had a soothing lyrical quality to it.

“But we’re filming until eight tonight and it’s—”

“Tomorrow, Miss Madison. I don’t want you to run the risk of falling if you become dizzy and faint. You could reinjure yourself. Rest now and you’ll get better sooner.” He gave Arlena a stern look. His phone began to buzz in his pocket and he pulled it out to glance at the screen.

“I can take you home,” Penelope said from the doorway.

Doctor Singh glanced up at Penelope. “Good. You will take her home and make sure she rests. No disco clubs tonight.”

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 let 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.