MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET (7 page)

Chapter 14

  

Penelope sat on Max's couch and tried to think. The little pink plus sign from the Rapid Pregnancy Test kit she'd found in the bathroom danced before her eyes.

“Jesus, Max,” Penelope said to the empty room. She shook her head and tried to think about what to do. She loved Arlena and, by extension, her brother, but she was having a hard time thinking of Max as a father. He was still so young. A partier living in New York, enjoying the privileged life of a celebrity. She could not imagine Max settling down and starting a family.

Then she thought about Hannah, her mind skimming back over what she knew about her. Her parents were famous British musicians, and former heroin addicts. Their songs were constantly on the radio when Penelope was in school. The Devores had cleaned up their act and formed a successful record label since those days and were instrumental in shaping the current music charts. They'd discovered many well-known bands, molding young talent into hit makers. But it seemed Hannah was taking after the younger version of her parents, her wild behavior constantly documented in the tabloids and online. Penelope had seen more than a few pictures of Hannah looking wasted and wearing very little clothing while out on the town, surrounded by other young celebrities with similar appetites for excess.

Penelope brushed invisible lint from her jeans and stood up, deciding Hannah deserved the benefit of the doubt. Living with Arlena, Penelope knew how the entertainment media could twist things, creating an alternate version of events. If Max loved Hannah and they had decided to start a life together, it wasn't her place to judge them.

Penelope went back into the bathroom and carefully slid the wand back into the box, repositioning it under the tissues in the trash can just the way she'd found it. She washed her hands, then went back out to the living room and straightened the throw pillows on the couch. She took one last look around before pulling the door of the apartment closed behind her and heading back down the hallway to the elevator. Her finger paused on its way to press the L button and moved instead to press R, and the elevator moved swiftly up to the roof. Penelope had watched Max's show a few times while she was making dinner at home and knew the roof was one of the main hangouts for the cast. She thought it might be worth a look to see if Max or Hannah had decided to come up last night to stargaze or talk about their future, maybe falling asleep under the glass-enclosed porch on one of the large canopy beds.

The elevator opened up to the rooftop patio and Penelope stepped off to take a look around. The oversized hot tub sat in the far corner, its cover stretched tightly over the top. A row of unoccupied lounge chairs was lined up against the wall beneath the railing, the morning sun warming the stark white cushions. Penelope walked to the railing and took in the view, barely able to make out the top of the Empire State Building in the distance. There were hundreds of buildings housing thousands of people in just the few blocks surrounding Max's building. She thought for a moment about how difficult it was to find someone in the city, to locate just one individual within the millions who called this island home. She sighed and fought back feelings of fear, and of being overwhelmed by what might have happened to Max.

She walked to the corner of the roof where a row of rosebushes sprouted from a concrete planter on the railing. She leaned down to smell one of the pink flowers and noticed a little white moth had gotten caught in an invisible spider web between two leaves. It beat its wings uselessly against the web as it tried to free itself.

Penelope reached in, swiping at the web with her finger, being careful not to prick herself on the thorny stems. The moth fluttered away quickly, its tattered wings causing it to fly jerkily as it fled from the building. Penelope watched it go until she couldn't see it anymore.

  

Penelope walked back to the reception desk in the lobby to sign out of Max's building.

“All quiet upstairs?” the security guard asked. He pressed his earpiece farther into his ear and leaned back in his chair.

“Yes,” Penelope said, unnerved. “Max isn't home.”

She picked up the pen next to the logbook and jotted down the time that blinked on the digital clock next to it. It was just past ten in the morning, and Penelope didn't feel like she was any closer to finding out what happened to Max than she was the night before.

Another security guard emerged from a doorway behind the desk. Penelope could see it led to a darkened room with a bank of security monitors on the wall. He closed the door and muttered to the man in the chair, “I'm back on the clock, Jimmy. You can head out.”

Jimmy stood up and the men started talking with each other quietly, discussing their shift change and different tasks that one or the other of them would complete that day.

Penelope's eyes flicked up the sign-in sheet, looking for Max's name in the “GUEST OF” column. She didn't see any entries for him and flipped the page over to look at the previous day's log. Her eyes skimmed the rows, scanning the entries for names, times, and visitor signatures.

Jimmy reached over and closed the book, pulling it gently away from her. “Have a nice day,” he said quietly.

“Thanks,” Penelope stammered. “You too.”

Chapter 15

  

The door to Max's building clicked shut behind her. She was back on the street, contemplating her next move. She noticed the bookstore was now open, a steady stream of people entering through the double glass doors.

A young woman with spiky blond hair and a knit hat leaned against the front window smoking a cigarette, one of her dark brown UGG boots propped up against the glass. She tossed a glance at Penelope as she exited Max's building, then studied her thumbnail, her cigarette smoldering between her fingers.

When Penelope got closer, she saw the woman was wearing a nametag around her neck, its silver chain twisted with the lanyard from her neon blue eyeglasses. According to the tag, her name was Angel Trapp and she was assistant manager of the bookstore beneath Max's building, Read it and Weep.

“Hi,” Penelope said, approaching her. “Can I ask you a question?”

The woman shrugged. “Sure.”

“Do you know anyone who lives in this building?”

“I guess. Maybe,” Angel said, taking another drag from her cigarette. “Why?”

“I'm looking for my friend. I saw he had a couple of books upstairs. Maybe he got them here. Do you know Max Madison?” Penelope asked hopefully.

“I know Max,” Angel said, nodding slowly. “He comes in all the time for his magazines. Once in a while he asks me to recommend a book. I love his dad's movies.” She looked wistfully towards the street and took another drag of her cigarette. She glanced at the end of it, apparently deciding it had been smoked enough, and walked across the sidewalk to throw the remainder through a sewer grate in the gutter. She walked back to Penelope and stood, hands on her hips, glancing towards the doors of the store.

“When was the last time you saw Max?” Penelope asked. She wasn't sure what this woman could tell her, but was grateful to have someone to talk to about Max.

“Um…” Angel shifted her weight to her other hip and looked down at the sidewalk. Penelope glanced at her tights and noticed what she originally thought were polka dots were actually tiny hot pink skull and crossbones. “I'm going to say last Tuesday. He usually comes in on Tuesdays, because that's when we lay out the new book and music releases and refresh the newsstand. I can't be totally sure, but I think that was the last time he was here.”

Penelope's shoulders shrank in on themselves. She had no idea what she'd hoped, that maybe Angel would tell her Max was inside the store right now, drinking a latte and reading the Sunday
Times
.

“He was with someone last time. I remember because she bought an expensive book for him. He insisted on paying for everything, but she wanted him to have it as a gift. A book of Greek plays. I had to cancel the sale and ring it up again separately.” Angel patted her cigarette pack in her skirt pocket. She glanced at the door of the store again and watched a group of young hipsters enter. “I have to get back to work,” she said, and turned toward the doors.

“Wait, do you remember who he was with? What did she look like?”

Angel paused for a second to think. “Blond, cute. British accent. Handsy,” she said with a sly smile. “I accidently interrupted them. I came out of the bathroom and they were making out in the poetry section.”

“Was it Hannah Devore, by any chance?” Penelope asked.

“Who's that?” Angel asked, genuinely at a loss.

“She lives upstairs. British. Daughter of Niles and Chastity Devore. She's on the TV show with Max.”

“I don't watch TV. But yeah, I know who Niles Devore is, although I don't listen to pop music. Not sure about their daughter, but yeah, it could have been her.” Angel crinkled her nose in an expression of distaste. “We've got some of Niles' CDs back in the classic rock section. The girl Max was with had long blond hair with colored highlights. But they looked like those fake extensions you just stick on for the day.”

“Have you ever seen him in here with anyone else?”

Angel eyed her warily. “Are you checking up on him? You aren't one of those celebrity stalkers, are you?”

Penelope laughed sharply. “No, I'm a friend of the family, actually. I know him really well. We haven't heard from him lately and we're a little anxious about whether or not he's okay.”

Angel glanced back at the street and thought for a moment. “He usually comes in by himself. Likes to get a coffee in the morning…he's always friendly.”

Penelope deflated, not sure how to proceed. “Can I give you my number? Would you mind texting me or giving me a call if you happen to see him?”

Angel looked at her skeptically, her guard going back up.

“Wait,” Penelope said. “I can prove I'm not crazy…” She pulled out her phone and called Arlena.

“Pen, where are you?” Arlena said.

“I'm near Max's place, and I've just met a friend of his, who also happens to be a fan of your dad. But she wants to be sure I am who I say I am, so can you talk to her for a second?” Penelope nodded at the response and handed the phone to Angel.

Angel pulled the phone up to her ear, keeping her eyes on Penelope. She said “okay” a few times then said, “Your dad, Randall Madison…how old were you when he did
Rolling Thunder
?”

Penelope could hear Arlena's tinny response, even on the busy street. Angel nodded, apparently satisfied, and handed the phone back to Penelope. “You're supposed to call her back. And you're her chef, she described you perfectly. When I see Max again, I'll get a message to you.”

Penelope thanked her and scribbled her number down on a scrap of paper with a pen from her purse. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Angel said before turning away. “Come in for a coffee next time you're in the neighborhood. We always have something going on at the store.”

Penelope watched her go, pulling her phone from her back pocket and redialing Arlena.

“I promised that woman Dad's autograph,” Arlena said. “Don't let me forget. Did you find anything at Max's place?”

“It doesn't look like Max has been home since yesterday,” Penelope said, her mind flashing to the pregnancy test in the garbage can. She watched the traffic light turn red on the corner and a crowd of people cross from both sides of Bleecker Street. The city was waking up, the quiet Sunday morning slipping behind them. “I found something that's…well, I don't know how say it.”

“What?” Arlena demanded.

“I found a pregnancy test in his bathroom, in the trash,” Penelope said, lowering her voice. “Positive.”

Arlena stayed silent for so long, Penelope thought she had lost the connection.

“Hello?”

“Sorry, yeah, um…I guess we have a lot to talk about, then,” Arlena said, sounding stunned.

“I'm sorry, I don't know what it means, or who—”

“It's got to be Hannah's, right? I mean, who else could it be?” Arlena asked. “She's gotten her hooks into him, like all of Daddy's girlfriends.”

Penelope thought about saying, “It takes two people to make a baby,” but decided it might not be the best timing. She opted to stay silent for the moment.

Arlena recovered and said, “I talked to Daddy…he's still in the city. I gave him your number. I'll text his to you when we hang up so you can get in touch with him if you need to. Sam's about to leave for his flight, and then I'm coming in too.”

“Arlena, I'm not sure what to do next.”

“I had an idea. I tried calling Sienna, hoping she might be able help us find Max. Of course she didn't pick up…probably still asleep after her big night. But I got in touch with her assistant. At first he wouldn't tell me where she's staying, but when I reminded him of, you know, who I am, and that Sienna is designing a mini collection for me, he finally told me. She's at the V Hotel in Chelsea. I've been ringing the suite but there's no answer.”

“I'll head over there. Maybe they all crashed at her hotel last night and are still asleep,” Penelope said, a glimmer of hope lightening her mood.

“Thanks so much, Pen. I was going to go myself, but you can get there much quicker. Are you sure you don't mind doing it?”

“No, I want to help,” Penelope said. “Otherwise I'd be sitting around worrying about Max or stewing about Joey. I'll head over there and call you back.”

“I really love everything you do for us, Pen,” Arlena said before hanging up.

Chapter 16

  

Penelope walked through the lobby of the V straight to the bank of elevators. According to Arlena, Sienna was staying in a suite on the nineteenth floor, and she intended to go directly to it and hopefully find Max, give him an earful about how much they'd all been worried about him, and head home. Afterwards, she would try and set things right with Joey. In the best-case-scenario version of how she pictured the rest of the day going, she and Joey would make it to the show and to the romantic dinner he had planned for them before everything got messed up.

The elevator rose quickly and Penelope looked down through the glass at the lobby, watching the people get smaller and smaller as she climbed. When she reached the nineteenth floor, she stepped off and followed the room number arrows to Sienna's suite.

Penelope knocked loudly on the door, then put her ear close to it to see if she could hear anyone on the other side. When she didn't sense any movement after half a minute, she knocked again, louder this time and with mounting impatience.

“Ugh,” a muffled voice said from behind the door. “What?”

“Max? It's Penelope. Max, open the door,” Penelope said, knocking again. Her knuckles protested as she pounded them against the hard solid wood.

The door swung open and a thin shirtless man stood before her, glaring through smudged black eyeliner. “What?” he demanded, his palms raised upwards at the ends of his long bony arms. He had a blue, red, and yellow tattoo that looked like a kidney bean on one wrist.

“Sorry,” Penelope said, recognizing him as one of Sienna's runway models. He was missing his dog collar and his wave of sprayed hair had collapsed in sticky yellow clumps around his head, but she remembered him. “I'm trying to find Max Madison. Is he here?”

“Seriously? This isn't the time to be trolling for autographs or pulling some creepy stalker move.” The man pressed a palm against his forehead and laughed, swinging the door closed.

Penelope stuck her foot just inside and the door bounced off of her sneaker. “I'm not a stalker, I'm a close friend. I'm trying to find Max.”

The young man pulled open the door wide and glared at her again. “Right. Well, guess what, he's not here, so…” He made a sweeping motion with his hands.

Penelope stepped up on her tiptoes and looked into the suite behind him. Several full suitcases were opened on the floor in the main room, and there were clothes and swatches of material everywhere. Room service trays covered the tables, and she saw a stack of plates just inside the door next to the man's bare feet.

“Who's at the door, Jesse?” a woman asked in a gratingly raw voice.

“Sienna, it's me. Penelope Sutherland,” Penelope shouted over the man's shoulder from the doorway.

“Penelope?” Sienna asked, a confused expression on her face. She came up behind Jesse and put a hand on his bare shoulder, pulling him backwards and away from the door. She was dressed in a short pink nightgown that floated around her thighs. “What are you doing here?”

“Something terrible has happened…did you hear about Christian?” Penelope asked.

Jesse reluctantly stepped aside, leaving the foyer and heading back into the suite. It was even messier than Penelope originally thought, and she cringed when she saw a half-eaten plate of pasta with red sauce teetering on the cushion of an expensive-looking white chair.

Sienna blinked at her, a look of alarm on her face. “What's happened?”

“Can I come in?” Penelope asked, glancing up and down the empty hallway of the hotel.

“Of course,” Sienna said, clearing her throat. She led Penelope inside and motioned for her to sit.

“I'm sorry to tell you, but Christian is dead. Someone shot him, and now Max and Hannah might be in danger, too. At the very least, they're missing.”

Penelope was exaggerating a bit, but she wanted to see how Sienna would respond.

Sienna's face reddened and she took a deep breath. Jesse hurried over and put an arm around her shoulders, perching on the arm of her chair. “Look what you've done,” he said to Penelope. “You should go.”

“Jesse, stop being rude,” Sienna said, collecting herself. “She hasn't done anything wrong. We should try and help.”

“Sienna, I'm not sure how Max is involved, but we really need to find him,” Penelope urged. “I know he was there when it happened. I heard everything over the phone.”

Sienna looked at her, a glimmer of hope behind her eyes. “So Max might be okay, just hiding out.” Jesse continued to rub her shoulder, staring out of the room's large windows.

“How well did you know Christian?” Penelope asked, searching Sienna's face.

Sienna got up quickly without answering and hurried into the adjoining bedroom, murmuring, “Excuse me,” in a hoarse whisper. When she opened the door, Penelope could see a woman's bare legs in the bed, her dark skin a sharp contrast to the white sheets draped over them. She leaned over to get a better look, but Jesse stood up and pulled the door closed before she could.

“Who is that?” Penelope asked.

“My girlfriend. I don't want to wake her up, so keep your voice down,” Jesse said, walking back towards the windows.

After a few minutes, Sienna emerged from the bedroom. “I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me.” Jesse gave her a quick hug around the shoulders and went back into the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind him.

Sienna twisted a tissue in her fingers and stared at Penelope with red-rimmed eyes. She blew her nose and glanced at the kitchenette, spotting a mug with a tea bag label dangling against its side, and went to retrieve it. Penelope smelled ginger when she brought it closer.

“Sienna,” Penelope asked again. “How well did you know Christian?”

Sienna sighed and took a sip of her tea, which seemed to soothe her. “I hired him for my show through his agency. I've known him for a few months…he and all of the models met with me during that time for fittings. I've been working on this collection for months and had to make lots of alterations.”

“Was he the only model you hired through that agency?” Penelope asked.

Sienna nodded distractedly, staring at something in the corner of the room. “Yes, they came from all over through recommendations. Someone showed me his portfolio online and I booked him based on that. He had the right look, exactly the kind of man I pictured when I designed the collection.”

Penelope leveled her gaze at Sienna. “You only knew him through work though? You seem pretty upset about the death of someone you weren't involved with personally.”

Sienna placed her mug down on the table. “My work is very personal. It's an extension of me. And it's tragic when anyone we've known is killed. It's a shock.”

Penelope paused a moment to think. “Did you ever hear that Christian was involved with drugs?”

Sienna sniffed. “It's fashion. Everyone is involved with drugs. He worked as a club promoter, too. It was part of his payment sometimes.”

“How do you know that? Did he tell you something specific?” Penelope urged, excited about a potential new piece of the puzzle.

Sienna nodded. “He more alluded to it, but yeah, he said that's how it works sometimes.”

“Did he ever share any with you?” Penelope asked tentatively, unsure how far to step.

Sienna smiled tightly. “Of course not. I never saw anything, and for all I know he was just mouthing off, trying to impress the younger guys.”

Penelope sat back and thought about what she'd said. “I can't imagine everyone in the fashion industry is on drugs, Sienna.”

Sienna scoffed. “Well, of course not. But it's not like they're hard to find if you've a mind to. I don't allow it when they're working. I don't know why they do it at all, to be honest.”

Penelope rubbed her temples. “If you had to guess, where do you think Max and Hannah are?” Her eyes flicked to the bedroom door.

Sienna picked up her mug and avoided Penelope's stare. “I honestly have no idea.”

Penelope sat back for a moment and crossed her arms over her chest. “I saw Christian and Hannah together before your show. They were sharing a very intimate moment in the bathroom. Had you ever seen them together before?”

Sienna snapped to attention, her cheeks flushing. She looked slightly ill and held a wad of tissues up against her mouth. “No. She's only got eyes for Max, as far as I've seen. You must be mistaken.”

“I don't think so,” Penelope said. “I'm pretty sure it was her. It was definitely him. And it didn't seem like it was the first time they'd hooked up.”

Sienna took a deep breath and waved her off.

“So, maybe they see other people. What does that have to do with anything?”

“You have to admit it's a concern when one third of a love triangle ends up dead,” Penelope said.

“But that would mean Max is the guilty party. What's your theory…he went wild in a jealous rage and killed Christian?” She shook her head. “I have to lie down. I'm sorry I can't be more help right now, but I'm not feeling well.”

Penelope started asking another question but Sienna held up her hand, fending her off. “Please go. If I hear from Max, I'll get in touch with Arlena.”