Penelope's Suitors

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Spring, 2006

Ted wasn't as lucky with spaces near his building, and after once around the block said to hell with it and put it in a garage. He was looking forward to giving himself a late lunch from whatever was in the fridge, but as he started rummaging through leftover takeout the phone rang.

"Ted—it's Penelope. How are you doing? I've never hired a detective before, so I don't know the etiquette. However, I was wondering if it's too early to expect a report for my dollar."

"Actually, I've been busy, and I have learned some interesting things. Also, I've decided I'm not Sherlock Holmes. I'm now Sam Spade, and later today I'm buying a new trench coat and a snub-nosed revolver."

"Aren't we funny."

"Seriously, I've spoken to a number of people, and got a few interesting leads. I don't know where they go, however. I don't even know if any of them relate to William."

"Are you free to talk about it over dinner tonight? Why don't you come to my apartment for dinner at 6:30. Bring wine."

"Sounds good."

Over the phone, he heard yelling. "Another crisis—see you tonight."



At 6:35 Ted found himself outside her apartment house, one of the grand old buildings on Central Park West, with a lobby that could have contained a small orchestra. He had written to her there when she first moved to New York after college, but had never been there. Her doormen, he noticed, had nattier uniforms than his, and were a shade more deferential.

"Ted Jellinek to see Ms. Tolford," he told the doorman.

"One moment, sir." He buzzed up. "Mr. Jellinek to see you…Very good." He hung up. "Apartment 7C, elevator in the back." The door to 7C was propped open when Ted got off the elevator.

"Come on in," she yelled from inside the apartment. He entered and closed the door behind him. "I'm in the kitchen." The apartment, he saw, was as generous as the building's lobby, with tall ceilings not found anymore, even in the most expensive new buildings. The living room window had a full view of the Park, and Ted stopped to take it in. A moment later, Penelope came out of the kitchen, drying her hands on a dish towel.

"Everyone is taken in by the view. Last Thanksgiving, Dad, Ariadne, Karen and I watched the parade from this window." She joined him to look at the darkening park. "I felt terribly guilty living here when I first moved in, but got over it. Dad practically made me move in by buying me this place as a law school graduation present. It's bigger than I need—I turned an extra bedroom into a home office. But Dad said it was a good investment, so I might as well live here."

"It's really smashing. And you've decorated it nicely." She had chosen light-colored woods and a few landscapes on the white walls, to emphasize the light and air.

"Simple and clean. It's my Danish ancestry coming through. Join me in the kitchen."

After considerable thought, he had stayed in the same chinos and blue blazer he had worn all day. Penelope, he saw, had dressed down in faded jeans and a white v-neck shirt that contrasted with her black braid.

"I hope you didn't go to a lot of trouble for dinner."

"I went to no trouble. Cooking is a rarity here, just reheating. Barbecue chicken from the deli, and various side dishes." Take-out containers and bags littered the counter space. "I was just keeping the chicken warm in the oven." She opened it and bent down. Without even thinking about it, Ted found himself looking at her slim rear, hugged so nicely by the Levis. She stood up, and he quickly pulled himself together.

"As requested, wine."

"That's a nice bottle," she said, looking at the label. "Thanks!"

"I'm learning. It's what you ordered for us at the Four Seasons."

"Is it?" She arched a delicate eyebrow.

They carried the food out to the dining room table. Ted opened the wine and poured it while she served the chicken and corn.

"The salad is mine from scratch. But the dressing is Paul Newman's." Ted raised his glass.

"To the memory of Maxwell Tolford, and to his lovely daughter." She smiled and cocked her head in acknowledgment.

"To be honest, I felt a little guilty going back to work so soon."

"I wasn't surprised. I couldn’t imagine you pacing around your apartment or that mansion for days after the funeral."

"You think you know me that well?" she asked, and he tried to decipher the look on her face. "Anyway, you're right. Dad was dying for months. When he finally went, it was a release, not a surprise. Ariadne wanted to get back to Karen, and as you said, hanging around this apartment alone or that huge mansion of his was unbearable."

"I can't say I blame you." They ate in silence for a while. When she spoke, it was a question about his stint in London, and his writing, and then he asked about how things were going at her legal aid office. It took a while to return to the reason she invited him.

"Barbecued chicken takes me back," said Ted, "back to the lake, and cookouts over charcoal. Is that why you got it?"

"It was the featured item tonight. But perhaps my subconscious was at work." With the sun gone, the room was dependent on just one corner torch lamp, and it highlighted the angles of Penelope's face. Ted suddenly remembered the lake, to sitting next to her, and watching the way the lake sun played over her face. It was still pale, still striking against the black eyes and hair.

"So you said you had some success?" She prompted.

"Yes, and a chance to catch up with some old friends. Remember Vic? I hadn't seen him in years."

"Oh Vic," she smiled and shook her head. "What's he up to? Didn’t he go to work for his father?"

"Yup. On Wall Street."

"Is he still a tomcat?"

Ted laughed. "At heart. He's married, with children, but he still misses Laurie."

"Along with every other male at the resort that summer."

"Unfortunately, he couldn't remember all the comings and goings that night. Except that William disappeared pretty early—maybe with a girl. But there was one other thing." Penelope leaned back in her chair, and looked at Ted over the rim of her wine glass. "He seemed to remember that you showed up during the course of the evening." He let the observation hang there. Ted knew that sooner or later, most people talked, if only to break the silence.

"I may have. Probably trying to see if Ariadne was getting into trouble."

"Was she?"

"I don't recall. I spent half that summer looking for her. There were a dozen teenaged girls that week. She may have been in the cabin with one of them. At any rate, I wasn't down long. I headed straight back to the house afterward. Is it important?"

"Probably not. Anyway, after I spoke to Vic, I looked up that girlfriend of William's, the one I think William may have disappeared with early that evening. Sarah helped me track her down."

"Sarah's a gem. She's been running the office for years now."

"She sounded very efficient on the phone. Thanks to her, it was just a couple of calls and I had Denise on the phone."

Penelope stood up. "Coffee? I have decaf. I'll get it started now."

"Please. Let me help clean up." Neither had eaten much. Ted followed her into the kitchen and put the leftovers back into their takeout containers as Penelope busied herself with the coffee maker. She filled the coffee basket and water dispenser with practiced efficiency. She saw him watching her and smiled.

"I drink too much coffee, so I'm good at this. Do you take milk? Sugar?"

They took their mugs of coffee into the living room. The sun was gone now, and Penelope hadn't turned on more lights. They sat in the semi-dark room. Penelope was a contrast of shadows, the shades across her cheekbones, the black braid now in front, across the white shirt, and her dark eyes disappearing into her too-pale face.

"You were saying about Denise? William's girlfriend then?"

"I met with her. She came about a week into August. She dressed in black and wore too much make-up. She quickly worked her way up to chief groupie, and my limited investigation so far has revealed she very possibly was the last person to see William alive."

"Oh yes, she was a funny little thing—I remember her now. What did she have to say for herself?"

"I can't tell, really. I think she's half-lost in a fantasy world. But she led me to believe there is more to William than meets the eye."

"Do you think she killed him?"

"That's a very dramatic question. I don't think we've even established he was murdered." Penelope didn't respond. "Anyway, she said she was his girlfriend. I think it was mostly her chasing him, as far as my memory goes. She might've killed him. I think she feels things deeply and is very emotional, but I don't think she'd have been smart and cool enough to cover it up effectively, and if he was murdered, someone was both smart and cool."

"Or lucky. You know I worked in the Manhattan D.A.'s office before going to the Center, and I found out that sometimes criminals are just plain lucky."

"I bow to your expert opinion. But about Denise, there were some things that just don't fit, and I can't believe anyone's memory is so off. Unless she has a strong reason for revising the past, but I can't figure it out. Not until I talk to some more people. However, I've been able to find out more about William. I tracked down his kid brother and his old guitar teacher."

"You have been busy. I'm impressed." He smiled and blushed in the darkness, but waved it off.

"It's nothing, some time on the Internet, that's all. I found his brother, Henry, running the family construction company in the wilds of New Jersey. He misses his brother, but never thought it was anything but any accident. His teacher thought he could've been a professional musician—he was that good. Not much of a people person, though. Seemed to have a very casual attitude to personal relationships. Nothing, no one, came before his guitar. And I have to tell you, I haven't found anyone with any reason to kill him. More than that, he doesn't seem the kind of person who would inspire someone to kill him."

"So you're going to stop?" she asked, softly. He shook his head.

"No. There was a chance I'd learn enough in the city to conclude this was an accident, but actually, there's plenty to explore. I want to know if anyone remembers more about his relationship with Denise—I can't figure that out. There was a lot wandering around that evening, and I'd like to see if I can pin them down. I want to speak to a few more people. I thought I'd drive up to the lake Sunday evening and spend a few days seeing who's around. Didn't you say Ariadne still knew some of our old colleagues?"

"Yes. And of course, Stanislaus is still running things, and so technically is Joan, although she really works directly for Ariadne now. She can even put you up, although you might prefer to stay at the Mohawk Hotel. They completely refurbished it; it's quite elegant, they say, with high-speed Internet connections in the room. Mention the Tolford name there. They knew my Dad. Tell them to just send the bill to me."

"Thank you."

"It's what money is for. And, I should add, Ariadne has met up again with your old love, Mary-Lou." Her familiar mocking tone was back, and her could see her superior smile.

"I'll probably want to talk with her, but I may not be terribly welcome there."

"There's a story there, and I won't embarrass you by asking for it. But I will ask you about that girl in your office—Miranda, wasn't it? Are you serious about her?" He smiled.

"It's early days yet. But how about you? Seeing anybody?" He tried to sound offhand about it.

"No, I'm between relationships right now. Isn't that what I'm supposed to say? Because you're an old friend, I hope I can count on you not to laugh when I tell you my last relationship was with a not very successful actor. And before that was a not very interesting corporate lawyer." Ted neither laughed nor commented.

"Miranda asked me if I had a crush on you when we were teenagers."

"What did you tell her?"

"It's a horrible breach of journalistic ethics for one reporter to lie to another."

"Ahh." They sipped their cooling coffee.

"Tell me, Penelope. I've always wanted to know, were you afraid that Matthew and I were only interested in you for your money?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh no, I thought you both just wanted me because I was stunningly beautiful." The answer took Ted by surprise, and he tried to think of an appropriate response. "Ted, the correct thing to say to a comment like that, is 'Yes, that must've been it. Because you were so gorgeous.' But I wasn't pretty, was I?"

"You were the most beautiful girl I knew," he said.

For God's sake, he thought, I've only had one glass of wine.

"Yes, you really thought so, didn't you? But I wasn't really. That was the summer Ariadne became more beautiful than I was. Anyway, I'm sure you and Matthew just loved me for me. You were both far too bourgeois to live off a wealthy woman."

"I'll take that as a compliment." He gazed into the dregs of his coffee, and then into Penelope's eyes. She had curled her legs under her, and she sat Sphinx-like in her chair. He'd given anything to know what she was thinking.

"There's one other thing Vic mentioned," Ted said, quickly, before better judgment kicked in. "He told me he kissed you. Not that summer, that summer before."

"Jealous?" she asked.

"Curious."

"So was I. I wanted to see what it was like to be kissed. So when he tried, I let him. Just once. He only kissed me because I was there, not because he had any affection for me at all. He didn't even find me attractive."

"Perhaps I should've tried to kiss you." His heart was beating, and her smile was inscrutable.

"Perhaps you should've." He waited for her to say more, but realized this time she'd let the silence hang between them forever.

"It's late," he said, looking at his watch. "Thank you for dinner. Before I go, is there anything else you want to know? I'll keep you posted from the Lake."

"No, nothing else. Thanks for coming. I appreciate this." She unfolded herself from her chair and stood up. Ted took in her long torso, her braid flowing between her breasts. He watched the half-light play across her face. "Let me show you out." A moment later, he was outside her door. He saw a tendril of hair had escaped, and slipped across the bridge of her nose. I am going to flick it away and then kiss her, he thought. But even that quick thought wasn't quick enough—she gave him a quick peck on his cheek, and he was alone in the hallway.

A new but equally helpful doorman was on duty. He asked Ted if he needed a cab. Ted thanked him, but said no, and started walking.



Summer, 1986

The Hall was empty, except for Matthew banging away in the back. Mary-Lou gathered up her lunch trash and walked around the counter to throw it away. Then she suddenly stopped, gave Ted a kiss on the cheek, and strolled out the door before he could react.

Vic and William came back shortly after Ted had heaved the last tent onto one of the floor-to-ceiling racks in the back wall of the Hall. William grabbed a Coke from the commercial-size fridge, but Vic started rooting around. "Did we sell the last Sprite? There's got to be one more left...whoa, what's this?" He produced a bottle of California champagne from deep in the back of the fridge. "Have we gone into the liquor business?"

Ted grabbed it from him. "That's mine, and it's here in the back instead of the cabin so you guys wouldn't find it." Vic watched, grinning, as Ted jammed it into the back of the fridge again. He walked out the front door onto the dock, where William had begun to play his guitar.

Vic followed him. "It's for tonight, isn't it? You're going to get Mary-Lou drunk."

"Why bother," said William, not looking up from his guitar. "Give me an hour and I'll teach you how to play a simple song. Girls love it when guys play them a song."

"Well thank you all for the advice," he said. He was blushing again, and angry because of it. "I'm just planning a romantic evening in one of the cabins. End of story."

William just shook his head and resumed playing.

"I suggest cabin 11," said Vic. "The bedroom window has a clear view of the lake and the mountains. But Laurie likes cabin 12 better.”

“Why?” asked Ted.

“Better mattress. Anyway, there are clean sheets in the bedroom closet."

Ted peered at the beach, at Mary Lou's small figure on the lifeguard chair, her hair shining in the sun. He turned back to Vic. "I admire your organizational skills," he said.

"Semper paratus," said Vic.

Matthew joined them on the dock, mangling a greasy rag in his hands. "When one of you guys has a sec, I need to get another motor back on the boat."

"I'll help," said Ted, glad to get away from the Vic and William.

After long practice it had become routine, half holding, half dropping the motor onto the rocking boat, while bracing against the solid dock. Ted waited for Matthew to test the machine. But after he was done and had powered down the outboard, he just sat there, staring at the churned water.

"Did you have a good time last night?" he asked Ted, looking up and shielding his eyes from the sun.

"Oh, last night...well we just went for a canoe ride. Up the bay as far north as the little stream by Glenview Resort. There's a little beach there no one knows about..." he let the sentence trail off.

“So she's your girlfriend?” Matthew asked, as he fiddled needlessly with the gas hose. His voice had the same forced casualness as when he had asked about Penelope showing up at the fire, at the beginning of the summer. Oh God, thought Ted, we haven’t fallen for the same girl again?

“Well, yes” said Ted slowly.

"I had thought…never mind." They were quiet for a few moments.

"You thought I was Penelope's boyfriend, is that it? I'm not. Never was."

Matthew gave an embarrassed grin. "It's Ariadne. Her sister with the big mouth. You know, this is a small town. I guess it became an open secret that I asked her to the prom. And she said no. Anyway, Ariadne said she had…someone from New York who was interested in her—and after you and I met, she sort of implied you were a long-distance boyfriend."

"Well Ariadne told me that you were my great rival, and might even win out in the end."

Matthew laughed. "Poor Penelope. Stuck with a little sister like that. Anyway, when I saw you were going with Mary-Lou, I thought that you and Penelope were through." And maybe she was now available, was the unfinished thought.

"Penelope and I have only been friends," said Ted.

Matthew shook his head, and they started walking along the dock back to the Hall.

“What was Penelope like in school?" asked Ted. "I’ve only known her summers.”

“We were on the student council together, and a couple of classes,” said Matthew. “She was nice, but not really outgoing. I don’t mean stuck up—if you spoke to her, she’d be polite and friendly, but that was it. She worked hard on the council, but every month we’d have a pizza social with Mrs. Ebersole—she was the faculty advisor. And Penelope never came. Maybe it was just to have something to put on a college application.” He shrugged.

They reached the Hall. William was in his usual place in the shade, intent on his guitar, and Vic was somewhere inside. Matthew kept going without any prodding from Ted, as they stood in the sun and faced the mountains on the east shore.

“At the beginning of senior year I started having a lot of problems with history. And I knew I needed at least a B to get into college. The teacher saw I was serious, and without even telling me, asked Penelope to tutor me. She was getting an A in history. Hell, she was getting an A in everything. So I drove to her house one day a week after school for help with ‘Europe in the 20th Century.’ She got me through it.” He looked a little embarrassed for a moment.

“You know, she wouldn’t take anything from me, I wanted to take her out to dinner to thank her, but she said no. I asked her to the prom. I finally bought her a book of poems. We were reading poetry in English. She wrote me a thank you note. She had this fancy blue stationery.”

Tell me about it, thought Ted.

“Did you get your B?” he asked.

Matthew brightened. “A B+ actually. Thanks to Penelope. You know, she didn’t want to be my girlfriend, but I was probably her best friend anyway. It’s funny—Ariadne was different. It’s a small school up here, you know everyone, even kids in other grades. She was a lot more outgoing. Even if she was a pest. But still I don’t think she had a lot of friends either.”

“Why not?” asked Ted.

Matthew looked surprised. “It probably doesn’t mean much to you, coming from New York, but the Tolfords have more money than anyone here could even imagine. Everyone knew it.” He shook himself out of his memories, walked quickly into the Hall, and looked at the big clock on the wall.

“We’re low on motor oil. I’m making a run to the marina.” He pulled his car keys from his pocket and disappeared out the back door. Ted was left alone with his thoughts, interrupted by Ariadne's afternoon arrival, for her daily diet soda. She had an issue of "Seventeen" clutched in her hand.

“Your soda, Miss Tolford,” said Ted, with exaggerated patience, as he handed her a can. She looked up at him, a little startled. Under the fluorescent lights he saw she was wearing make-up to—what had Laurie said—bring out her less-than-prominent cheekbones.

“You've really enjoyed telling stories about me to Matthew. And about Matthew to me. That was naughty, setting us up against each other.”

“Well, just a little gossip," she said, pretending nonchalance. "You could've been her boyfriend. So could he. Enough people have seen you with her, and Matthew with her."

“Didn't they tell you gossip was a sin? You ought to learn a little discretion.” Ariadne set her jaw in the classic form of teenaged stubbornness.

“You can’t tell me what to do. Your work for my father.” She stuck out her lower lip—a silly girlish look on the face of a lovely young woman.

“Don’t threaten me with your father. All I have to do is tell Penelope. And then God help you.” He had the satisfaction of watching her pale behind her tan. But she was determined to have the last word: "Fine. But just remember: She doesn't care for either one of you."