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  “Oh, that. I noticed you were speaking with everyone at the theater tonight.”

  “I was.” Callie took a sip of her wine.

  “I noticed you didn’t ask me any questions.”

  Callie raised an eyebrow. “You wanted me to question you about a theft?”

  A smile toyed at his lips. “Why not?”

  “Okay.” Callie moved to the living area. “Did you see anything suspicious while you were on stage?”

  “You think that’s when it happened? During the play?”

  Callie thought about what she had learned so far from speaking with some of the cast and crew earlier.

  “Audrey locked it up after the first act. Peter believes the theater was empty at eight when he locked it up.”

  Greyson briefly pulled his brows together. “Believes?”

  “Unless he checked every nook and cranny…” Callie thought she saw a flash of admiration in Greyson’s eyes.

  “Good point. They could have simply let themselves out after the theft.” He stared over her shoulder for a moment as he considered it. “We need to know who showed up at the cast party and when.”

  “We?” Callie narrowed her eyes at him. “I work alone.”

  Greyson ignored her. “I was pretty busy talking to people for a while after the show. I didn’t leave right away but I noticed that some of the others seemed to leave not long after we all gathered backstage.”

  “Speaking of working alone. What exactly do you do when you aren’t starring in plays or playing the role of the understudy?”

  Greyson tilted his head as he looked at her. The laughter seemed to be back in his eyes.

  “Did anyone say they left early to go to the party?” he asked.

  Callie shook her head at his evasion of her question but answered him anyway.

  “Molly and Cliff.”

  “The college students?” Greyson began moving toward the kitchen. “So, they might be able to help with a timeline of who arrived and when.”

  “The thought had occurred to me.” Callie followed him to the kitchen out of curiosity.

  She watched him set his glass down and begin to open the bags. He pulled the food out and began plating it. When he wasn’t sure if she liked something he brought, he’d turn and show it to her first. She agreed to everything she saw.

  “What were you doing backstage?” she asked.

  Greyson turned to hand her a plate of food. “Excuse me?”

  “Nina said she saw you going from the office area to the prop room at one point when you weren’t on stage.” She had spoken to the set designer earlier in the evening. Callie sat at the dining table with her food.

  Greyson sat on her left. “That’s right, I did.”

  “Why?”

  Greyson looked like he wasn’t going to answer her for a moment but then gave a half shrug.

  “You’ll no doubt hear from someone else if I don’t tell you.”

  Callie’s mind quickly leapt to the most plausible conclusion.

  “You were speaking with Elliot?” Peter had reported seeing Elliot near the office during the intermission.

  “He is funding the play, right?”

  “Why?” Callie repeated.

  Greyson gave a quick shake of his head.

  “That, you’ll need to ask him.” He motioned to her plate. “Your food is getting cold.”

  Callie watched as Greyson picked up his fork and began eating. She joined him as her mind raced.

  “Have you worked with Peter before?” Callie asked after a while.

  “No. He seems really competent though. I get the impression he has a lot of experience.” Greyson took a sip of his wine. “What about you. How long have you been a private investigator?”

  Callie was still waiting to learn more about him. Maybe if she gave up a little, he’d reciprocate.

  “I started working for a private investigator about five years ago as an office assistant. It wasn’t long before Corky was letting me get more involved in the real work. He took me under his wing and showed me the ropes.”

  “And then, what? You went out on your own?”

  Callie dropped her eyes to her food. “Not by choice. Corky died in a car accident about a year ago.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah, thanks. Anyway, I started my own agency after that.”

  Greyson raised his brows. “And the rest is history?”

  Callie let out a laugh. “Not quite, no. The world has not beaten a path to my door, but I do okay. In fact, business has been picking up lately.”

  “Including the case with Anilese?” Greyson pushed his empty plate away.

  Callie thought again about how he had deftly dodged her every attempt to learn more about him. Her eyes narrowed.

  “Your turn.”

  Greyson smiled. “Wow. Look at the time.”

  Greyson stood and picked up his plate. Callie watched him carry it to her kitchen. He rinsed it in the sink before putting it into the dishwasher with his empty wine glass. She couldn’t fault his kitchen manners.

  She remained where she was for a few moments after he’d left and thought about what she’d learned. It sounded as though Elliot knew Greyson. It made sense. She couldn’t come up with any other reason why someone with his acting abilities would try out for a role as an understudy. It still left her clueless about why Elliot wanted him here or what he really did for a living when he wasn’t acting. Eventually, she stood and took care of her own dirty dishes, then fed the fish. Tomorrow was another day.

  Chapter Twenty

  Callie woke the next morning knowing that she wouldn’t see anyone at the theater again until later in the afternoon. She got caught up on laundry, but her mind remained on her former mentor. Maybe talking about him with Greyson had prompted it this time. Periodically, her brain would return to the case and leave her unable to focus on anything else.

  She went into the smallest spare bedroom, which she used as a home office, and pulled a large binder from her closet. It was where she kept some of the information that she had from the night that Corky Travis had died. She had a larger cache at the office but would periodically bring something else from the case home to review. She took the heavy binder out to the living and sat down with a glass of tea to read through it.

  Corky Travis was fifty six years old at the time of his death. Although the police considered the case suspicious, it remained unsolved due to lack of evidence. Callie flipped open the binder and read the newspaper article describing his accident. It was pathetically short.

  Callie often reviewed the case hoping to miraculously dig up new information that could move the case forward. The problem was, ever since the beginning of her investigation when she’d found the most obvious of clues, the rest of the information had eluded her. She rarely discovered anything new now.

  Callie had no idea why Corky would have been out in the middle of the night. She knew that he had stopped at a gas station in town and filled the truck at ten that night. Callie had spoken to the clerk working at the time, but they hadn’t seen him. He’d paid at the pump. The accident had occurred four hours later, at two in the morning. Stranger still, it had occurred at the crossroads of two county roads in the middle of nowhere about an hour inland. Callie had no idea what he was doing there or where he may have been going.

  According to Corky’s girlfriend, Maria Suarez, he was working on a case. Maria claimed that he hadn’t told her anything about it, but she was certain he was working something. Callie couldn’t believe it. He always told her about his cases. She worked most of them with him at that point and there had been a lot of cases. Corky had grown up in the area of Pomelo Cove. He had the network in place to run a successful business. Callie recognized the irony. She also had grown up in the area. For whatever reason, that same network wasn’t in place for her. She got some clients, but nothing like when Corky was alive.

  The police report said that there was some evidence that Corky had been hit fro
m behind. His truck ran off the road at a fairly high rate of speed. He hit a massive live oak and was pinned to his steering wheel. He obviously lived for a short period of time after the accident. Callie knew for a fact that he had. He’d used his key to scratch three letters into the dashboard. Those three letters haunted her. They were the first three letters of her name. She had no idea why he may have been writing her name.

  Callie closed the binder. She wasn’t getting anything accomplished by reminiscing. She had a lot of work on her plate at the moment, including who had killed Anilese and why. She knew it was tied to Ian. It had to be. Anilese had hired Callie to find Ian. She returned the binder to the closet and got ready for work. Then she went into the office to compile the notes on everything she’d learned the previous day. By the time the cast and crew began arriving for another practice session, she was ready to ask more questions.

  She saw her mother standing backstage when she arrived. A man she hadn’t had a chance to speak to the previous day was standing next to her. Callie walked over to greet them.

  “Darling, you’re back.” Margaret’s eyes narrowed when she first saw her daughter. “Are you alright?”

  “Fine, thanks.” Callie turned to the lighting technician. “Mind if I ask you some questions?”

  “Sure.” Hank turned to Margaret. “As long as you’re done with me.”

  Callie watched the older man’s face begin to color. Her mother was right again. Hank had a serious crush going.

  “Of course. I’ll go see if anyone wants to run through some lines.” Margaret headed off toward the stage.

  “You know about the theft of the ticket money, right?” Callie asked the wiry man. He wasn’t much taller than Callie. He kept his hair short. It was mostly dark but liberally mottled with gray.

  Hank rubbed a hand across a stubby angular face. “Your mom said you might be asking me some questions.”

  Callie offered a friendly smile. “I was at the play, so I already know that you were busy for most of the time, if not all of it. I know you were handling the lighting.”

  “Yeah. Even during the intermission, I was still working on the setup for the second half of the show,” Hank agreed.

  “I figured as much.” She watched a frown cross his face.

  Hank rubbed the stubble again with his hand and looked up.

  “What?” Callie could tell he was thinking about something.

  “I did see something odd. I mean, I doubt it has anything to do with the ticket money. I just can’t explain it, that’s all.”

  “What was that?”

  “Some of the wires I have up there for my lighting system were messed up.”

  “Messed up?”

  “Yeah. Like tangled. For no reason. I mean, I’m the only one who handles all that. I know I didn’t do it. It just doesn’t make sense that anyone else would have.” Hank shook his head, then waved a greeting as Steve walked in.

  Callie wanted to speak to the prop man. She waited until he walked over to join them, then introduced herself and explained why she was there.

  Steve didn’t look surprised. “Peter mentioned you might be asking us questions.”

  He wore his gray hair long and pulled back in a tail. His small wire-rimmed glasses were perched down on his nose. Callie assumed he only needed them for close work but didn’t want to deal with finding them when he needed them. Instead, he kept them perched at the end of his long nose. Whenever he needed to see something close, he tilted his head back.

  Callie asked him about his role during the play. He explained where he was and what he needed to do.

  “So, you didn’t see anything near the main office?” Callie asked, just to confirm.

  Steve scratched his cheek. “Well, now that you mention it, I did see something odd but it wasn’t until the next day.”

  “Odd?”

  Steven nodded and pointed up. “Most of the places you go in a theater don’t really have a ceiling like you’re used to seeing in a regular building, right? People like Hank need to work up there.”

  Callie nodded to show she understood.

  “But back by the main office and even in the front where they take tickets, there’s a drop ceiling, right?”

  “Right.” Callie wondered where he was going with this.

  “One of the ceiling tiles was moved,” Steve said.

  “From the drop ceiling?” Callie asked as she considered the ramifications. “Can you show me where?”

  Steve motioned for her to follow then headed down a hallway. Callie glanced in one of the rooms they passed along the way and saw a lot of costumes. Camille was inside working on one of them. Callie wanted to catch up with her today also.

  Hank stopped and pointed up. “That one.”

  Callie tried to orient herself. “The office is over on that side, right?” She pointed away from them.

  “You got it,” Steve agreed.

  Callie asked him a couple more questions before thanking him for his time. As she stood and thought about the location of the tile and the main office, the carpenter walked by.

  “Oh, hey! Wes, isn’t it?” Callie asked.

  Wes stopped. “Yeah, you’re Margaret’s daughter, right?”

  “Callie, right. I was wondering if you noticed anything odd around the time of the missing money?”

  Wes shook his head and he started walking away.

  “Not unless you call a missing hammer odd.”

  “Wait, what?” Callie took a few steps to catch up with him. She put her hand on his arm. “A missing hammer?”

  “Yeah. It was the strangest thing. I’d used it the day before. That would be the day of the matinee.”

  “The day of the theft,” Callie said.

  “Yeah. Then, like I said, it was gone the next day when I came back.” Wes looked over Callie’s shoulder. “Listen, I have to go. Nina needs me to do something.”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  Callie backtracked and found Camille with the wardrobe. She tapped on the door frame.

  “Do you have a minute?”

  Camille looked up. She had pins in her mouth. Another ball gown was on a form in front of her. Callie noticed that it was turned inside out. Camille dropped the pins from her mouth into her hand.

  “Sure, come on in. I know you’re here to ask about the missing money.”

  “I am.” Callie watched as Camille deftly pinned a small seam on the side.

  Camille looked around, then lowered her voice. “One of the actresses must have had a bit too much to eat. She split the seam.” Camille’s eyes danced with laughter. “It happens to the best of us.”

  Callie smiled back at her. She could understand why her mom had said she liked Camille.

  “Did you see anything unusual the day of the theft?” Callie asked.

  Camille shook her head. Reaching over, she grabbed a needle and thread from a pin cushion and began putting tiny stitches into the seam.

  “I was much too busy back here. It was total chaos, the way every play is. There were regular costume changes going on the entire time.” Camille’s hands stopped and she examined her work.

  “You and my sister amaze me,” Callie said.

  Camille didn’t look surprised. “Your mom mentioned that one of her daughters had a business making curtains. I was happy to hear it. Sewing is something of a lost art, that’s for sure.”

  Camille began removing the dress from the form. “At least I haven’t had to do many repairs for this production. I think besides this dress, the only other repair I made was for Rob.”

  Callie was still hoping to catch up with him. She thought of his slight frame. He was only a couple of inches taller than she was and probably didn’t weigh much more than she did. “I doubt that he split a seam.”

  “No,” Camille frowned. “I still haven’t figured out how he did it. He only has a small part in the play and doesn’t have any action scenes where he could have torn his costume.”

  Chapter Twenty-One<
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  Callie woke early the next morning. She pulled up her notes from the missing theater money case while drinking her first cup of coffee. After reviewing what she had written, she added notes for the interviews she had made the previous day including the ones about the cast party afterward and a timeline of when people had arrived. Then she thought about her mother on stage again and the gift that Elliot had given her. It was a gift that had touched many lives.

  It wasn’t just the actors and stage hands whose lives had been changed, mostly for the positive if you didn’t factor in the theft. She thought of the impact the acting opportunity had made on the young college students. The crew who had worked their lives in the theater and were now retired but given this chance to work in the field again had benefitted. And, she thought of her nieces and the rest of the audience who had enjoyed the experience of seeing a professionally produced live play right here in Pomelo Cove. Curious if there had been any reviews from the play, Callie began searching on the Internet.

  She found a digital copy of the headlines for The Pomelo Cove Herald. Because she didn’t have a subscription to the paper, she was only given a teaser for the article but from what she could tell, the review of the play was positive. That was good news. She’d have to get copies of the paper to share with her mom and sister.

  Scrolling down through the headlines, she saw one regarding the bank heist that her stepmother, Leslie, had mentioned. Again, she was only able to see a teaser for the article, but it was enough to learn that the police were beginning to think it was an inside job. That didn’t surprise her. It was an all too common theme with many types of crimes, including something like identity theft.

  Her mind returned to the theft of the ticket sales. The one person she wanted to speak to first was Rob Shaw. She tried using a search engine to learn more about him but the name was too common and her search returned hundreds of hits. None of them looked like a match to the one she wanted. She knew the search was going to require a more advanced and diverse collection of skills than what she possessed. Fortunately for her, she knew exactly where to find the people who had those skills. She quickly finished getting ready for work. After a brief stop, she walked into her office with two specials of the day from The Bean.