MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET (17 page)

Officer Gomez rested her gaze on the table. “At least if I go in there and get them out, I know they can't get hurt. Or sold.”

“But if you're wrong and they're right back with her the next day, you'll have tipped her off. If someone is helping Joyce from inside the police department, couldn't they cause problems for you…get you transferred away from here or worse?”

Officer Gomez looked at her grimly, and balled her hands into fists on the table.

“Here you go, dears,” Mrs. Sotheby said, placing two mugs down on the table in front of them. Officer Gomez excused herself to step outside and make a call.

“Oh, before I forget, thanks for letting me borrow this,” Penelope said after she heard the front door close, pulling a small pistol from her purse and sitting it on the table.

“Was it helpful?” Mrs. Sotheby asked, sitting down next to her.

“Yes, thanks. Even though it wasn't loaded, I felt better having it with me, just to scare her if she tried anything.”

“Go ahead and hang onto it for a little while, if it makes you feel better,” Mrs. Sotheby said. Penelope slipped it back into her purse quickly when she heard Officer Gomez coming down the hall.

  

When Penelope got back to the hotel, she changed into jeans and a sweater and headed upstairs to the Madisons' suite. She was greeted at the door by Randall, who ushered her into the living room. Max was on the couch next to Arlena, and Sienna sat in one of the chairs facing them.

“I'm sorry, am I interrupting?” Penelope asked, stopping short when she saw Arlena's flat expression and the tears on Sienna's cheeks. “I'll come back.”

“No,” Randall said, “It's okay. Sienna was just telling us about the baby.”

Arlena's eyes cut across to Penelope, her mouth twisted into a half smile. “Yes, Sienna was just telling us that she and Max are having a baby together.”

“Wow,” Penelope said. “That's huge. So Hannah was telling the truth about that.”

Sienna looked at her with an alarmed glance, and Max rubbed her shoulder.

“That's why you're drinking ginger tea, and why you got sick the other morning,” Penelope said.

“It does help with morning sickness, but not completely,” Sienna said, sighing.

“It's just unbelievable,” Arlena cut in, “that my little brother has impregnated one of my friends, after all the times I've told him how I feel about him...” She stood up from the couch without finishing her thought, went to the kitchenette, and grabbed a bag of chips, ripping it open. She crunched angrily and leaned on the counter, staring at Max.

“Arlena,” Randall said, walking over and putting a hand on her back. “Love happens when we least expect it. And children sometimes grow out of that love.”

“Gross, Daddy.” Arlena ate another chip. Her mouth full, she mumbled, “You should be very proud. Your son is taking after you in every way.” She grabbed the chips and walked into the bedroom, closing the door forcefully behind her. Penelope followed her, leaning inside the room and mumbling, “You okay?”

Arlena nodded and waved her off, and Penelope closed the door quietly.

“I should go,” Penelope said. “Congratulations, you guys.” She walked to the door and slipped out, leaving the growing Madison clan behind.

Penelope returned to her room, thinking about everything that had happened over the past few days. Max was going to be a father and had been charged with murder, Joey was somewhere else, her current gig was a nightmare, and she was living in a hotel. She set her shoulders and closed her eyes, determined to get things back under control.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket and her eyes popped open. She smiled when she saw a text from Joey. “Almost back to NYC. Need to see you.”

Penelope typed a quick response.

Chapter 34

  

An hour later, Penelope walked into Read It and Weep and found the small travel section, pulling a book from the shelf about Venezuela. She took it to the café and ordered a candy cane latte, taking a seat at one of the empty tables in the corner. She leafed through the pages, stopping to look at the photos of the various mountains and beaches.

“Hi, Penelope,” Jimmy said as he approached her table. He had a few paperbacks under his arm. “You're looking better.”

“Thanks,” Penelope said. She motioned to the chair next to her and he sat down. “Remember when you told me there was something about a morals clause in Max's contract?”

Jimmy nodded. “Yes, it's a pretty standard clause, so I've heard.”

“I wonder what the show would do if they found out Hannah was lying to the police about Max being a murderer because she was jealous of him being with another woman.”

“Well, I'm no lawyer, but that sounds pretty immoral to me,” Jimmy said. He put his stack of books on the table and folded his hands in his lap.

“She's basically admitted it, dared me to tell Max about seeing her and Christian together. She hasn't come out and said anything publicly about hers and Max's relationship,” Penelope said.

“She should worry more about lying to the police than what her fans think,” Jimmy said. “They don't like that one bit.”

“Can you get me upstairs the next time she's home?” Penelope asked.

“I'll do better than that,” Jimmy said, standing up from his seat. “Wait here.”

Twenty minutes later, Jimmy entered the café, followed by Hannah Devore. She looked contrite, but there was still a glimmer of defiance in her eyes.

“Hannah,” Penelope said tightly. “Thanks for coming.”

“I didn't have a choice.”

Penelope looked at Jimmy as he retook his seat. “She had a choice. She could either come and talk to you, or I could let some folks know about the contraband housekeeping found in her apartment. Hannah's parents are very clear about it. If she's caught with any illegal drugs, she's shipped right back home and into rehab.”

“It was just a little weed,” Hannah said, rolling her eyes. “One joint.”

Jimmy smiled at her. “Still technically illegal, and still something they'd want to know about. So,” he glanced at Penelope, “talk.”

“Take back what you're saying about Max,” Penelope said.

“Why should I?”

“Because it's a lie, and it could ruin his life.”

“And why should I care about ruining his life when he has no regard for mine?” Hannah sniffed.

“I know about Sienna and the baby, and I know it must be hurtful for you,” Penelope said. “But you can't do this to him just because you're jealous and upset.”

Hannah stared her in the eyes. “The old hag can have him. I've moved on. I never loved him anyway. I just don't want to be seen by the whole world as the one who got dumped.”

Penelope shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. “So this is just about your reputation? Your heart isn't broken over Max and Sienna?”

“No, I really don't care,” Hannah said, smiling. “But you should ask yourself why he's lying and saying that baby is his. Immaculate conceptions don't happen often.”

Jimmy chuckled. “I have to get back. See you around, Hannah.”

Hannah rolled her eyes at him. “You want me to recant my statement about Max? Fine. I'm sure it will take more than that to get those charges dropped.” She stood up and walked away from the table, leaving Penelope more confused about Max than ever.

She sat for a few minutes, staring into space and letting her coffee go cold. Her phone buzzed on the table, bringing her back to reality. She saw Mrs. Sotheby's name on the screen and answered quickly.

“Hello?”

“Penelope, dear,” Mrs. Sotheby said in a voice just above a whisper.

“Hi, is everything okay?”

“Yes, well, maybe. Something is going on next door.”

Penelope sat up straighter in her chair. “What's happening?”

“I'm not sure. I saw a man going in and out of the upstairs apartment all morning, like he was moving his things in. Do you think that awful woman would have someone new living there so soon?”

“Well, we think she's trafficking children, so that seems minor in comparison,” Penelope said.

“You're right about that. But then I'm sure I heard some shouting, and that young man from the bodega stopped by and got into an argument with the new tenant. He was trying to deliver groceries but the man wouldn't let him in.”

“Did you call Officer Gomez?”

“Oh!” Mrs. Sotheby cried suddenly. Penelope heard a faint crackling noise over the phone.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, standing up from her chair.

“I just heard a gunshot!”

“Mrs. Sotheby, hang up now and call 911,” Penelope said.

“Oh no,” Mrs. Sotheby said, suddenly breathing heavily. “Penelope, help me.”

Penelope heard the phone receiver drop on the floor and then silence. She grabbed her purse and jacket and bolted towards the door.

Chapter 35

  

Penelope dialed 911 from the back of the cab, giving them Mrs. Sotheby's address.

“What is the nature of the emergency?” the operator asked.

“I don't know. Maybe a heart attack,” Penelope said. “Please hurry, she's there by herself.”

A few minutes later the cab pulled up outside Mrs. Sotheby's, and Penelope was shocked to find she had beaten the ambulance there. She pounded on the front door. “Mrs. Sotheby! It's Penelope!”

When there was no answer, she went around the side of the brownstone to the kitchen door. She tried the knob and it turned freely in her hand. She yanked the door open and ran into the house, taking the main stairs two at a time until she reached the office. She heard the ambulance siren outside just as she found Mrs. Sotheby on the floor next to the desk, her face tinged with blue.

“Mrs. Sotheby,” Penelope said, placing her fingers on her neck and finding a faint pulse.

“Emergency medical,” someone yelled from downstairs as they knocked on the front door.

Penelope took one last look at her friend, then hurried down the stairs to open the door. “She's up there,” Penelope said, stepping aside so the EMTs could get past her. She followed them up the stairs and stood in the doorway of the office as they knelt on the floor, assessing Mrs. Sotheby. Penelope closed her eyes and said a quick prayer, fighting back tears as they lifted her onto a gurney and wheeled her downstairs to the ambulance. One of the EMTs handed her a card. “We're taking her to Chelsea Med.”

Penelope took the card and nodded. She watched numbly as they lifted Mrs. Sotheby inside the ambulance, closed the doors, and sped away, siren blaring. Penelope's hands started shaking as the shock began to wear off and she headed back upstairs.

She looked down at the courtyard, at the side entrance to Christian's apartment and the padlocked storm doors leading to the basement. Remembering the sound of gunshots over the phone, she scanned the patio but didn't see anything out of place, no evidence of a struggle or fight. Anger burned through her chest as she stared at the house that had caused so much misery for herself, her friends and who knew how many innocent children. She pulled her phone from her pocket and called Officer Gomez.

When she answered, Penelope filled her in on what happened to Mrs. Sotheby.

“I'm in the neighborhood, I'll check in with the hospital,” Officer Gomez said.

“She called me about hearing…” Penelope trailed off.

“Penelope?” Officer Gomez asked after she'd gone silent. “You there?”

“Yeah,” Penelope said, looking down into the courtyard. She watched Jesse enter through the gates, slinging an empty duffle bag over his shoulder. “Something is going on next door.”

“What?”

“I'm not sure,” Penelope said. She reached down and touched her purse on the desk, feeling the outline of the pistol underneath the leather, thinking about what Mrs. Sotheby said about hearing a gunshot. She watched Jesse pull open the side door and push his way inside, disappearing up the stairs. “The model I told you about, the one who was talking with Joyce this morning, is going up to Christian's apartment.”

“Maybe he's the new club promoter. Christian's replacement.”

“Maybe. He knows me. Maybe I can get inside and look around some more,” Penelope said.

“Penelope, don't,” Officer Gomez warned. “I'm in the neighborhood if you need—”

“I'm just going to say I'm there to follow up on the models for Arlena,” Penelope interrupted. “I'll be fine. Gotta go.”

“Watch your back,” Officer Gomez warned as Penelope hung up.

A few minutes later, Penelope pressed the buzzer at MUI, peering in through the glass doors. When no one answered, she twisted the knob, but it was locked. She pressed the buzzer again, longer this time.

Jesse came in through the main room with an irritated look on his face, which relented somewhat when he saw it was Penelope at the door. He leaned out, his hand loose on the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Hi,” Penelope said, taking a quick glance over his shoulder. “Jesse, right?”

He nodded tersely, pressing his lips together, silently urging her to state her business.

“I'm here to follow up with Joyce. My employer is hiring some models.”

“Right,” Jesse said. “She's not here right now, so you'll have to come back later.” He began to close the door.

“Where is she? Do you know if she'll be here? Because I can wait,” Penelope said quickly.

“I'm not sure how long she's going to be. Probably a while, so…” Jesse looked over her shoulder someone walking past on the sidewalk, then back at Penelope.

“Do you work for Joyce now?” Penelope asked quickly. “Signed with the agency?”

Jesse shook his head, then began to nod slowly. “Yes, I'm one of hers now. They had an opening.”

Penelope cut her eyes towards the courtyard. “You're taking Christian's place?”

Jesse stepped back and opened the door wider. “You know about a lot of things around here,” he said with a faint smile. “You ask a lot of questions, I guess that's why.” He began to close the door again.

“Wait, I'd like to leave a note for Joyce,” Penelope asked quickly.

“You can just tell me the message and I'll make sure she gets it,” Jesse said, becoming more irritated.

“No,” Penelope said forcefully. “It's confidential…from my boss.”

Jesse's face tightened but he didn't lose his smile. “Sure, come in,” he said, stepping aside.

Penelope went to the front desk and jotted something down on a pad of paper, then ripped it off. “Where is everyone today?”

Jesse raised his palms upward and shrugged his shoulders. His shirt cuff rose up and Penelope saw the tattoo on his wrist, and something clicked together in her mind. “Is that Venezuela?” she asked, nodding at his arm.

He looked down at the tattoo and back up at Penelope. “Yeah.”

“Are you from there?” Penelope asked, her heartbeat quickening.

“I am,” Jesse said. “But I don't remember it. I've been here since I was a child. Do you need anything else, because I should get back to work.” He nodded towards the front door.

“Water,” Penelope said, faking a cough. “I've been in an accident and I have to take my medicine.”

Jesse sighed, and his shoulders caved. “Okay,” he said finally. “Wait here, I'll get some.”

“Thanks,” Penelope said. She watched him push his way into the kitchen and hurried to the door after it swung closed, following him inside.

Jesse stood up straight in front of the refrigerator, a bottle of water in his hand.

“I was hoping to get a couple of crackers too, if that's okay. My medicine makes me sick if I don't eat,” Penelope said, laughing a little. “Sorry to be a bother.”

Jesse shook his head and handed her the water bottle. He turned toward the cabinets and began pulling them open one by one.

Penelope's eyes flicked to the basement door and saw the padlock was undone, just hanging loosely on the latch. She looked at Jesse's back and then down at the floor where she saw the duffle bag he had been carrying earlier.

“Here, I found some crackers,” Jesse said, turning back around. He followed Penelope's gaze, then put the box of crackers on the table.

“Thanks,” Penelope said, taking a step closer to the bag. When she first saw the dark blue canvas bag over Jesse's shoulder from across the courtyard it appeared empty, but it definitely wasn't now. “You moving in upstairs?” Penelope asked, attempting to keep her voice casual.

“No,” Jesse said quickly, then changed his answer. “Yes, actually. I wasn't going to at first, but it's a great apartment.”

Penelope's mind skipped back to the blood on the floor upstairs and she shivered inside. She looked again at the bag on the floor and noticed a red spot on the side, which appeared to be growing.

“Thanks for the water,” Penelope stammered, taking a step backwards towards the kitchen door. She felt the weight of the unloaded gun in her purse pulling on her shoulder. Jesse looked down at the duffle bag, then back up into Penelope's eyes. She saw his expression harden, and then he lunged for her.

Penelope spun around and pushed through the door, bumping her injured wrist. She called out in pain and ran, hearing Jesse right behind her. Right as she got to the front door, he grabbed her from behind in a bear hug.

“Where do you think you're going?” Jesse hissed in her ear.

“Let me go,” Penelope said sternly, refusing to allow fear into her voice.

“I don't think so,” Jesse said, pulling her back from the door. Penelope braced herself against him and tried to twist away. He reached down and grabbed her wrist, squeezing it in his hand.

Penelope yelped in pain then cried, “Help!” to the empty sidewalk. Jesse wrenched her around to face him, still holding onto her injured arm.

“You're nosy, and you don't take hints very well,” Jesse said, looking down at her wrist.

“You're the one who pushed me?” Penelope asked.

“And yet here you are, still poking around in things that don't concern you,” Jesse said. He yanked her closer so their faces were almost touching. “You've seen way too much, and now—”

His expression turned to surprised pain as Penelope stomped as hard as she could with her boot down onto his foot. He stumbled away from her, howling in pain, trying to raise his foot up to his hands. Penelope fumbled with the doorknob and finally got outside, skittering down the steps on wobbly legs. She looked up and down the empty sidewalk.

Jesse tackled her from behind, pushing her down to the sidewalk. She skinned her hands on the cold pavement blocking her face from the impact.

“Get off! Help!” Penelope shouted, hearing her voice bounce off the building across the street, the steel gray windows hiding everything behind them.

“Shut up,” Jesse demanded, hauling her up from the ground. He pulled her towards a parked car on the street, once again by her injured arm. Her hand had gone almost totally numb from the pain. “Get in,” he demanded when they reached the car, reaching into his pocket for his keys with one hand and popping open the truck. He released her wrist and pushed her square in the back towards the rear of the car.

The feel of his hands on her back ignited a rage in Penelope, the image of the yellow cab approaching the intersection dancing before her eyes. She turned towards Jesse and reared back, shoving him away from her with both hands, using all of her strength. Stars of pain shot through her vision, but she ignored it and charged toward him, pushing him again. Jesse lost his footing and fell against the side of the brownstone, twisting awkwardly and hitting his head on the concrete. Penelope reached into her purse and pulled out Mr. Sotheby's antique gun, aiming it at Jesse while holding her numb hand up against her chest.

Penelope heard a car pull up on the street behind her and a familiar voice say, “Penelope, what's going on?” Officer Gomez spoke with calm urgency. “Let me have the gun.” She stepped towards them carefully, glancing from Penelope to the trunk to Jesse, who was pulling himself up to a seated position on the sidewalk, dazed, blood dripping from his forehead.

Penelope handed Officer Gomez the gun. “It's not loaded. He tried to stuff me in the trunk,” Penelope said shakily. “And there's a bag in the kitchen with a body in it. Where are the girls?” she shouted at him.

“They're free. Sinay took them up to the bodega to wait for me. I'm going to make sure they're all safe,” Jesse said in a daze. “No one helped me, but I'm helping them get away.”

Officer Gomez's eyes widened, and she tucked Mr. Sotheby's gun into her belt at the small of her back. She handcuffed Jesse, who offered no resistance, and eyed the cut on his forehead as she called for an ambulance and backup. She pulled him to his feet and sat him in the backseat of her patrol car. He laid his head back against the seat and closed his eyes.

“You said there's a body inside?” Officer Gomez said, gazing up at the brownstone.

“Yes, it's Joyce,” Penelope said. “Jesse's got a tattoo of Venezuela on his wrist. I saw it at the hotel suite, but I didn't know what it was until I saw a map of the country and the colors of the flag at the bookstore. Jesse might be one of her victims.”