Read Online MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET by Shawn Reilly Simmons - Free Book Online Page B

phone.
    â€œTomorrow? We have the room for more than one night?” Penelope asked, twisting the phone cord in her fingers.
    â€œYes, your room is reserved through tonight with a checkout scheduled for Monday at one o’clock. Also, I have a note here from the concierge that your dinner reservations are confirmed for La Modern, and you can pick up your tickets for the show after two this afternoon at the desk.”
    â€œOkay,” Penelope said, more confused than ever.
    â€œMay I assist you with anything else?”
    â€œNo,” Penelope said, trying to think. “Wait, yes, can you tell me where the nearest Manhattan Cellular is? I have to replace my phone.”
    â€œThere are two right near here,” the woman said, quickly rattling off the addresses. “If you need a map of the city or transit information please stop by the front desk.”
    Penelope hung up and sat down on the edge of the bed, feeling even worse about everything that happened. Joey had planned a romantic weekend in the city for them, complete with dinner and a show, and now it had blown up in spectacular fashion.

    Â Â 
    After taking a hot shower and putting on clean clothes, Penelope felt better, at least physically. When she stepped out the front doors of the hotel, she breathed in the morning air which still smelled fresh from the previous night’s rain, and walked in the direction of the nearest phone store. Half an hour later, new phone in hand, she stepped back onto the sidewalk and called Max. The call went straight to voicemail. Penelope sighed. “Max, please call me or Arlena right away. I’m worried about you.”
    Penelope hung up and stuck the phone in her back pocket before ducking into a busy French patisserie for a cup of coffee. She wanted to sit and think about her next move and craved more caffeine. As she stood in line, her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her back pocket quickly, hoping to see Max’s name there. Instead it was Arlena’s picture smiling up at her.
    â€œHi, Arlena,” Penelope said.
    â€œPenelope! There you are. I’ve been trying to call,” Arlena said, a note of alarm in her voice.
    Penelope stepped out of the coffee line and walked to the front window of the patisserie. “My phone broke last night. I just picked up a new one.”
    â€œI got your messages when I woke up. I couldn’t understand what you were talking about, just that you were worried about Max. What’s going on?” Penelope could hear Sam’s voice in the background but couldn’t make out what he was saying.
    â€œI was worried about Max because I got this strange message from him. It sounded like he was in trouble, so I went out to try and find him.”
    â€œPen, you know how Max is. I’m sure it was nothing. He drunk-dials me all the time. I’ve learned to turn my phone off when I know he’s going to be out clubbing.”
    Penelope closed her eyes and perched on one of the tall stools lining the front window, leaning her elbows on the narrow wooden counter. “It’s not nothing this time. Arlena, the police found Christian dead in his apartment last night.”
    â€œWhat happened?” Arlena demanded.
    Penelope told her everything she could about the night before, starting with the call from Max and ending with the police finding Christian’s body. She kept the part about all of the blood in the apartment to herself, thinking that it wouldn’t do any good to send Arlena into a panic.
    â€œAnd we don’t know where Max is,” Arlena said. She pulled the phone away from her ear. Penelope could hear her relating the news to Sam. There was a moment of silence and then she said, “What did the detective say when he heard the message from Max?”
    â€œHe never heard it. My phone broke when we were at Christian’s apartment and the message was lost. He only has my word that Max is in trouble, and I