Chapter 40

  

Penelope stepped inside the diner and smelled the fresh roasted coffee brewing behind the counter. The older woman who had waited on them a few days earlier offered her a tight smile and nodded at the counter stools. “Nice to see you again.”

After filling a mug for Penelope, she sauntered down the counter to check on a customer at the other end while Penelope pretended to look at the menu. She pulled out her phone and searched Doxylamine, finding it to be the main ingredient in several over-the-counter sleep aids.

“What’ll it be?” the woman asked when she returned.

“Um, a piece of lemon meringue.” Before she could step away again, Penelope said, “You mind if I ask you something?”

Penelope watched her defenses go up, but her smile stayed in place. “Sure, hon. What can I do for you?”

“Is Mr. Pears here?” Penelope asked. “He’s not at the newspaper right now.”

“No, he’s out on assignment somewhere. But I’m his wife, Shirley, if you want to lodge a complaint or fill out a compliment card.” Shirley smiled wider, revealing a silver bridge along her gums.

“In that case, maybe you can help. I’ve been approached to invest in a company called Herring – Steele, and I was told Jacob was one of the first investors. I wanted to ask him about the company,” Penelope lied—she’d thought up the story right before she walked in the diner.

“Well, I believe that’s our mortgage company,” Shirley said. “Can’t say either of us would know much more about it than that.”

Penelope deflated. “Do you expect Jacob back soon?”

Shirley shook her head. “No, today is his reporting day. He mentioned something about visiting that movie set at the inn. You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“I am,” Penelope said. “I’m one of the chefs.”

“Well, la-di-da,” Shirley said, with a small laugh. She wandered away and returned, sliding a good-looking piece of lemon meringue pie in front of Penelope. “How much longer do you reckon you all will be hanging around? Not that I’m complaining—we’ve had a nice little bump in business.”

“Not much longer,” Penelope said vaguely, spearing a piece of lemon curd.

Shirley grabbed the orange handle of the coffeepot and whisked over to a newly seated booth, taking orders and bringing the ticket to the kitchen window. When she came back Penelope said, “I thought Herring – Steele was a privately held restaurant investment company. Are you sure that’s where you pay the mortgage?”

“Let’s see,” Shirley said, thinking. “I suppose ‘mortgage’ isn’t the correct term. They’re the folks we bought the diner from, in a lease-to-buy arrangement. We’ve got years left to pay, a lot of years, if we live that long.” She put her hands on the small of her back and did a little stretch. “I guess it’s what you call an umbrella company. Lots of businesses represented by an overseeing management team.”

Penelope thought about the arrangement. There wasn’t anything obviously criminal about it, even if it was a bit unorthodox to sell shares of a company privately.

“Can I get you anything else?” Shirley asked, ripping off a green ticket from her pad.

Penelope shook her head. “Great pie.”

Shirley smiled widely again. “Glad you like it. You can take a whole one back for the movie stars. Just $12.99 each.”

  

Penelope walked out of the diner and saw Denis walking up the sidewalk.

“Denis,” Penelope said.

“Penelope,” Denis said. “How are things? Oh, I meant to tell you I’ll be by on my usual day next week with some new bottles.”

“Good, but you won’t be meeting with me. There are some changes happening at Festa, which will probably involve you eventually. They’re bringing on a new chef.”

Denis’s face went blank for a minute, then he seemed to catch up. “I’ve been off this week, out of town. It’s funny Ava didn’t let us know though. I haven’t checked my messages yet. I just got back.”

“It’s a fairly recent development,” Penelope said, wondering why a vendor, someone who wasn’t an employee of the restaurant, would expect to be kept in the loop on hiring decisions. “Did you get my message about your check? The one that was stolen from my room?”

“No,” he said, confused. “What check?”

“I found a check in that box of wine you left the morning after Jordan died,” Penelope said. “I’ve been trying to call you.”

Denis put his hand to his forehead and stared at her. “This retreat thing, it’s supposed to be a complete destress experience. Rule one is you have to unplug. Oh man. If I’m late on my payment, I lose my share of the equity.”

“So Herring – Steele is your mortgage company too?” Penelope asked.

“No,” he said slowly. “It’s my shares of Festa.” Denis looked at her as if she should already know this. “I’m listed in the portfolio as part owner, bronze level.”

“Oh,” Penelope said. “I didn’t know they sold shares.”

“I’ll have to explain to Ava, get a new check to her today,” Denis said. “If I miss a payment, or I’m even a week late, I get thrown off the portfolio, lose out on all of the returns I have coming to me.”

“Returns?” Penelope asked.

“Yeah, I get a quarterly return on my investment,” Denis said, nodding. “It’s not much right now, but Ava says down the road the revenue will be huge.”

“Sounds like a good investment,” Penelope said, trying to work it out in her mind. Was Ava crowd-funding Festa’s operation? “I’ve got to head back to the set.”

“Sure. See you at the restaurant,” Denis said.