Now that Penny had Laurie Moran on the phone, she wasn’t entirely sure what to say to her. She didn’t want to sound too eager to be involved in the production. “Ms. Moran, I’m calling because I read in the Post that you’re working on a special about the murder of Virginia Wakeling.”
“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.