Murder on a Silver Platter (A Red Carpet Catering Mystery Book 1) Read Free Page B

craft table with cereal and juice, some granola bars, too.”
    “You got it. We’ll be ready.”

      
    Penelope lit the charcoals underneath her omelet grill, a six-foot-long skinny basin that she could fit ten pans on at a time. Next to it was a collapsible table with glass bowls full of chopped vegetables, cheeses and meats. She could make ten omelets to order at a time as the diners filed through the line in front of her. She’d had a friend from culinary school custom-build the grill to her specifications, just the way she wanted it. It was much easier taking orders out in the open behind the grill than leaning through the window of the food truck and using the flat top grill to make omelets one at a time. She worked out in the cold this way, but efficiency had won out over comfort.
    Various cast and crew members nodded and offered mumbled greetings as they came through her line, shivering in their jackets and watching the eggs bubble up in the pans in front of them. She greeted them warmly as she prepared their omelets, grateful to be getting their long day ahead started.
    When breakfast service was over and the cast and crew went to work on the morning shoot, Penelope and her chefs cleared down and began prepping for lunch. Francis, Penelope’s sous-chef, was in the kitchen truck, searing off chicken breasts and filleting salmon. The rest of her team was in the adjoining tent prepping vegetables for salads and sides. The film’s production company was paying a local restaurant to wash their dishes after each meal, so they only had to deliver the bus trays full of dirty dishes and pick up fresh plates and glasses before lunch, all ready to go in drying racks wrapped in plastic. While expensive, it saved her team so much time and effort. After working on a few movie sets Penelope understood the reason behind the multimillion-dollar price tags that even small movies racked up. A movie set was like a portable city, and each moving part had its own cost.
    Her crew well underway with the lunch prep, Penelope decided to take a break and check in on Arlena in makeup. She grabbed an orange out of the fruit bin, lightly patting one of her chefs on his shoulder as she passed. He nodded but kept his focus on the cutting board in front of him, his sharp chef knife slicing quickly through a large red tomato. Penelope pulled off her long black apron, set it down at the edge of his station and zipped up her fleece jacket. She ducked out from under the flap of the tent and headed towards the trailers grouped at the back of South Point’s municipal parking lot. The makeup, talent and wardrobe trailers were grouped together in the center of their temporary trailer park. It was an unwritten rule of every crew Penelope had worked with to set them up that way to limit the access of long range paparazzi camera lenses or every day lookie-loos who hovered near the edges of a set, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone famous.
    When Penelope entered the makeup trailer, she saw Arlena reclining in a chair with cucumber slices over her eyes, her wet hair wrapped in a towel. She wore a bathrobe over silky pajamas and big fuzzy slippers, all in matching shades of blue. Kelley, the head makeup artist on the film, was sitting on a short stool at her side, massaging one of her hands. Arlena’s body stiffened when she heard the door open.
    “Sorry, it’s me,” Penelope said, closing the door quickly to keep the frosty air outside.
    “Oh, hey,” Arlena said, relaxing back into the chair. She pulled the cucumbers off of her eyes with her free hand.
    “I brought you an orange,” Penelope said.
    “Thanks. Can you dip it in chocolate and deep fry it for me?” Arlena asked, laughing weakly.
    “No, but I can peel it for you. You want any, Kelley?”
    “Thanks, I’m fine.” Kelley continued to knead Arlena’s hand, gently pressing on pressure points in an attempt to reduce her stress. Kelley’s hair was bright purple today and cut in a cute