“Thanks,” Eliza said. “So she definitely has the ring?”
“I watched her put it on her finger.”
“Great, thanks,” Eliza said. “I’ll give her a call then. She’s probably already left me a message, and I just didn’t see it. I was in such a rush to get back here.”
“Don’t worry, ma’am. It’s in safe hands.”
Is it? Eliza wondered dryly as she returned to her vehicle. She sat in the driver’s seat and pulled out her phone, looking for a message from Penny. It wasn’t there. Not entirely surprising, since the two women had had an entire car ride to discuss things such as lost rings.
No matter, Eliza mused. Penny could easily have forgotten she’d grabbed the ring, considering the rigmarole with Anne and Mark. A simple misunderstanding—that was all it was.
Dialing, Eliza ignored the impatient valet as Penny answered.
“Hey, hon,” Eliza said. “Any chance you found my ring at dinner?”
There was a beat of silence as Penny paused.
“I was wearing this black ring,” Eliza said. “You probably didn’t even notice. It wasn’t expensive, just a little sentimental. Roman bought it for me in Italy is all. Anyway, I thought I’d call both you and Anne to see if it’d turned up.”
“Gosh,” Penny said finally. “I haven’t seen it. I’d try Anne if I were you.”
“Will do,” Eliza said. “I’m sure she’ll have it.”
To the valet’s relief, Eliza hung up and drove away from the restaurant for the second time that evening. She headed home, her mind occupied with intriguing new thoughts.
Had Penny stolen her ring? Eliza’s knuckles gripped the steering wheel tighter. Why in the world would Penny steal her ring? It wasn’t as if there was a huge diamond on it that she could pawn off for lunch money. It made no sense.
As she drove, Eliza found herself doubting everything. She’d assumed Penny had been the one taken under by Roman’s charms, but what if it was the other way around? What if Penny took what she wanted, stealing freely, then played the innocent card? Was it possible she’d latched her pretty nails into Roman and gone in for the kill? Had she tried to get pregnant?
Preposterous, Eliza assured herself. That was ridiculous. No sane woman would go that far, ever. Full stop. And Penny wasn’t insane. Over the last few months, as Eliza had gotten to know Penny, she’d determined that the young woman meant well; she was just a little lost. Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Eliza was halfway to Beverly Hills when she reached for a water bottle and caught sight of a darkened glint against it in the cup holder.
Look at that, Eliza thought. Her ring had found its way home.
But Eliza wasn’t foolish enough to think Penny had softened between her theft at dinner and her apparent change of heart on the car ride to her apartment. Why hadn’t she just told Eliza about the ring? What was Eliza missing?
Feeling more befuddled than ever, Eliza decided she’d have to be a little less careless around Penny moving forward, and a little more attentive. Something about Penny Sands wasn’t quite right, and Eliza wasn’t going to be fooled…again.
Fool me once, shame on you.
Fool me twice…
TRANSCRIPT
Prosecution: Ms. Sands, it was established during Mrs. Wilkes’s testimony that you have what you call a “little hobby” of stealing things from others.
Penny Sands: I wouldn’t say it’s stealing. It’s… it’s adopting certain items that other people no longer need.
Prosecution: That’s stealing. Taking something from another without permission.
Penny Sands: Technically, that might be correct. But I never hurt anyone. And I mostly took stuff that didn’t matter to other people.
Prosecution: Like an anniversary set of utensils? As previously mentioned, Mrs. Wilkes testified that she found several items in your apartment that didn’t belong to you. A photo you’d taken from her house. A knife and spoon with Eliza’s and Roman Tate’s initials on it. How did those artifacts end up in your care?
Penny Sands: The picture was stupid. I was babysitting Anne’s kids and saw Roman, and I just… I don’t know. I took it. There’s no real monetary value to a photograph.
Prosecution: And the utensils? That’s what we’re interested in, Ms. Sands. The knife.
Penny Sands: It was the day I told Anne and Eliza that I was pregnant back in October. I was just so mad at Roman. So upset with him that I wanted to hurt him, just a little. Plus, it’s not like he needed an anniversary set anymore. He had an affair and got me pregnant. Eliza would never have stayed with him once she found out.
Prosecution: When were you planning to tell Mrs. Tate that her husband was the father of your child?
Penny Sands: I wasn’t.
Prosecution: Why not?
Penny Sands: Because I’m not entirely sure he is.
Prosecution: We’ll come back to that later. For now, I want to focus on the knife. How did you acquire it?
Penny Sands: How does anyone acquire anything? I picked it up and put it in my purse. Not exactly rocket science. It was in their kitchen drawer, just sitting there.
Prosecution: Interesting, Ms. Sands. Interesting how the murder weapon ended up in your apartment just a few months before Mr. Tate ended up dead.
Penny Sands: I didn’t have it when he was murdered.
Prosecution: Who did?
Penny Sands: I don’t know, but it was stolen from me.
Prosecution: When did you realize it was stolen?
Penny Sands: When it was entered into evidence as a murder weapon.
THIRTY
The Day Of
February 14, 2019
Eliza shuffled appetizers and finger foods onto platters. For the first time in many months, she had splurged. Instead of warming frozen appetizers and pretending the food was homemade, she’d had food catered for the evening. She was expecting over twenty industry guests at the book club event, so it was easy to justify as a business expense.
While Eliza hadn’t yet repaid the loan from Roman’s parents, she was finally starting to see promise in her company thanks to the imminent launch of Marguerite’s new book and the paychecks coming in from her client. If all continued as projected, Eliza would be free and clear of debt within six months. It wouldn’t make her life perfect, but it would be a step in the right direction.
Eliza popped a delicious gruyere-and-spinach quiche into her mouth and glanced at the clock. The ambiance was set with half an hour to spare. The attendees would be here soon enough, along with Marguerite Hill—guest of honor. Eliza studied the wine, the appetizers, the hint of elegant décor and was pleased with how everything had come together.
All that was left was for Eliza to shower and change into something nicer. Marguerite was thoroughly prepared for the event, thanks to the afternoon’s trial run in which Eliza, Anne, and Penny had grilled her on the content of Be Free. She had acceptably answered all their questions…until their discussion had turned to the subject of murder. That one had stumped the author.
It had stumped Eliza, too. And Penny and Anne. It must have been the wine Eliza had served or the fact that most of the men in their lives were acting unreasonably at the moment. Something had been in the air, and a little vent session had been in order.