“I’m afraid I can’t confirm that.”
Penny had already heard from one of the participants on the show that it was happening, but she couldn’t show her cards. On the other hand, she could imagine the producer being wary of disclosing details over the phone. For all Laurie Moran knew, Penny wasn’t actually Penny. She could be a reporter seeking out information. She decided to press forward.
“Well, in the event the story is true, I wanted you to know how to reach me. Virginia Wakeling was my employer, as was her husband, Bob, before he passed. My mother was Bob’s secretary for more than fifteen years. I was very fond of both of them.”
Penny smiled to herself, confident that she had struck the right tone. Caring, but not personally invested. And the detail about her mother’s work for Bob might help convince the producer that she was not an imposter.
“Do you still work for the Wakeling company?” Laurie asked.
The question struck Penny as odd. Surely the producers would have asked that question of the Wakeling family by now. She realized that the woman was testing her, still unsure about her identity.
“No. I’m still in the real estate business, but not with the Wakelings. I found more challenging opportunities elsewhere after Virginia passed.” All of the time Penny had put in working for women of a certain class, she liked to think that some of their airs had rubbed off on her. She sounded so mature and dignified.
“Were you with Mrs. Wakeling the night she died?”
The question was obviously another test. “Not on the roof with her, of course,” Penny said, “but, yes, I attended the gala.”
Laurie must have been satisfied that Penny wasn’t some crackpot calling in with false claims, because she said, “Well, we’re always looking for fresh angles on cold cases, and the Wakeling murder is certainly a compelling mystery. Any chance you’d be willing to meet with me to talk about what you remember of that night?”
“I suppose I could make the time, if it might be helpful. Anything for dear Virginia.”
“I can come to you at your home or at work if that’s convenient,” Laurie offered.
The only space Penny had at work was a tiny cubicle next to the coffee machine, and the last thing she wanted was for a television producer to see her shabby studio apartment in Flatbush. Before she even realized what she was doing, she was rattling off a different address, this one of a luxury apartment in Tribeca. “Or, you know what, I don’t want to trouble you to come all the way downtown,” Penny offered. “I’ll go to your office.”
“It’s no trouble,” Laurie said. “You’re doing me a favor, Penny. The least I can do is save you a trip. What would be a good time for you? It’s short notice, but I’m free this afternoon and this evening.”
Penny held the phone away from her ear and used her thumb to flip quickly through her calendar, and then returned to the conversation.
“Sorry, but I’m all booked up today. I can meet you at my apartment tomorrow at one-thirty. How does that sound?”
“One-thirty tomorrow. Perfect,” Laurie said.
They exchanged cell phone numbers in case either of them was running late. As Penny hung up, she prayed that Laurie ran right on schedule. The apartment’s owner would be gone tomorrow afternoon from one until five, and Penny had already arranged for the buyer to arrive at three o’clock with her contractor to take measurements needed for a planned remodel. They’d have to speak quickly.
34
Laurie had just hung up the phone when she noticed Ryan lingering in her doorway. She waved him in.
“What’s up?”
“I just got back from PUNCH, where I spoke to Ivan in person. Consider him properly chastised. He won’t be talking about the show to his clients, or anyone else for that matter.”
“Thanks. Did he say anything more about who Penny’s mystery boyfriend might have been?”
He shook his head. “He said he never noticed any kind of flirtation between Penny and either Carter or Peter. His initial reaction was to remind me that Tiffany came across like a crackpot with a wild imagination.”
“She was eccentric,” Laurie said, “but she had a distinct memory of Penny saying something about her maybe being involved with someone in the family. I see no reason for Tiffany to lie about that.”
“Fair enough. I did press Ivan on it, and he certainly conceded the possibility. He said Carter was the more likely of the two, since he was always dating around. He said he’d never heard a word about Peter being unfaithful to Anna, but he also said it wouldn’t surprise him if Peter got tired of being—quote—‘bossed around by Queen Anna.’?”
“Another thought dawned on me after you left,” Laurie said. “What if Tiffany was talking about Ivan?”
“That doesn’t make any sense. The entire reason Ivan named her as a suspect was because Penny didn’t take his side after Virginia was killed.”
“Maybe she didn’t take his side because she didn’t want the family to know she was seeing Ivan behind her boss’s back.” Laurie was thinking out loud now, the way she used to with Alex. “Or she could have suspected Ivan after the fact and tried to keep her distance.”
“Then why did Ivan point us toward Penny?”
When she had these brainstorming sessions with Alex, each of them would build on the other’s observations, getting closer and closer to the truth. But, with Ryan, every statement felt like an argument, as if his immediate instinct was to shut down her ideas.
“He didn’t point us to Penny,” Laurie said. “Not really. He gave her to us as an alternative suspect, but didn’t tell us where to find her.”
“Speaking of which, I heard you call whoever was on the phone by the name Penny. You found her?”
“She contacted me, actually. She saw the write-up in Page Six.”
“So Ivan helped us after all.”
“Accidentally, yes.”
“You’re meeting her tomorrow at one-thirty?”
Laurie made a mental note to start closing her door during phone calls. “Yes, at her apartment down in Tribeca.”
“Great. I’m free. I’ll swing by here at one. We can take my car.”
35
That afternoon, Laurie sat alone at her conference table, studying the binder she had received from Detective Johnny Hon. Specifically, she was looking at photographs taken of the exhibit space that night, after Virginia Wakeling’s body had been discovered in the snow behind the museum. Technically, the costume exhibit being celebrated at that night’s gala wasn’t an actual crime scene. Whatever caused Virginia to fall to her death had happened on the museum’s roof.