MURDER ON A DESIGNER DIET by Shawn Reilly Simmons

around midnight, one o’clock.”
    â€œThat late? Are you shooting exterior scenes?” Penelope asked, already doing the math in her head about how many dishes they’d need to make, when to start cooking, and how much sleep she was going to miss.
    â€œExterior, on the balcony, location is still The Crawford. You’re in the basement.” Penelope could tell he was anxious to get off the phone. He probably had several more calls to make.
    â€œOkay, see you tomorrow night.” He clicked off without saying goodbye. She was beginning to regret agreeing to this project. So far everything seemed loose and unprofessional, definitely not how she was used to working.
    Irritated and distracted by the phone call, she sat down on the lid of the toilet and put her head in her hands. Underneath the counter was a small silver trash can with a few tissues inside, the corner of a pink box sticking out from underneath. She leaned over to get a closer look and her heart did a quick series of beats against her ribcage.
    Penelope recognized the logo, a blue circle with the letters RPT in script, right away. Grabbing a piece of toilet paper, she reached down and gently eased the box out of the trash can, hearing the plastic wand rattle around inside. Penelope tilted the box and slid the wand out onto the countertop, watching the bright pink plus sign spin around twice before coming to a stop.

Chapter 14

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    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.
    â€œJesus, 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