by R A Wallace
“Do you know his name?”
Callie smiled. “No, but he was the waiter the other evening when some friends of mine were here. They said he was phenomenal. It was a special night for them. I was hoping to speak with him and set something similar up for another night real soon.” Callie leaned forward a little. “I was planning to propose.”
“Any of our wait staff would be able to assist,” Alec said confidently.
“Oh, but this was very special. There was music and champagne. I would really like to talk to this particular waiter.” Callie offered her most pleading look.
Alec relented. “I believe I was on duty that night. The waiter you want to speak with is Julio. I’ll see if he’s free.”
Callie waited for a few moments until a young man appeared in front of her. According to his name tag, he was Julio. She knew he was busy and didn’t want to lose her chance. Quickly, she pulled out the photo of Ian. She saw the recognition on Julio’s face immediately.
“You remember him?” Callie asked.
“Sure. That was a good tip.” Julio looked behind him to make sure Alec hadn’t heard his comment. He lowered his voice. “His lady friend was really nice, too. Very polite.”
Callie thought of Anilese. Those weren’t the first words she would expect a male to use when describing her.
“Yeah? What did she look like?”
Julio stole a look in the restaurant area to check on his tables before answering.
“Well, she was tiny, probably four or five inches shorter than you. Brunette.”
Callie felt her brows raise. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Like I said. Good tip.” Julio looked back into the restaurant. “Listen, I have to go. You need anything else?”
“No, thanks.” Callie watched Julio go back to work.
She remained where she was for a moment longer as she thought about his answers. The woman he described was definitely not Anilese. Frowning, she went outside, got back into her car, and headed for the docks. It was time to find a boat.
The gulf coast wind pulled at her hair as soon as she stepped out of her car. Callie found a band in her purse and pulled her hair back to contain it with the band. She walked slowly up and down each dock, searching for a boat that matched the name Anilese had given her. She realized that if she didn’t find it, it wasn’t definitive proof that it didn’t exist. It could simply mean that the owner had taken it out on the water.
Finally, after several long minutes of searching, she saw a large boat bearing the name AniLove. As she approached the boat, her heart sped up when she realized it was occupied. Could she really be so lucky as to find Ian Rubio so easily?
Callie stopped when she reached the AniLove and frowned at the man aboard it.
“Can I help you?” The man calling over to her from inside the AniLove was definitely not Ian.
“I’m looking for the owner of the boat,” Callie said loudly enough for him to hear her.
“You found him.” The man appeared to be in his fifties. The lines on his weathered face implied long hours spent out on the water.
Callie didn’t want to keep shouting. “Permission to come aboard?”
The man smiled and held out his hand. Callie leapt as gracefully to the boat as possible.
She pulled out the photo of Ian Rubio and asked if the man knew him. He shook his head. Callie then described Anilese. The man responded that he didn’t know her, but he’d like to.
After a few more questions, Callie left more confused than she’d been in a very long time. What was Anilese up to? Nothing she’d told Callie had been correct. Callie thought about the photo of Ian Rubio that Anilese had given her. Was he even real?
Chapter Seven
He arrived at the theater early. The practice was set to begin at six and at this point would typically run until nine. Peter didn’t mind the late hours. He preferred sleeping in whenever possible and, after being in the business for decades, had grown accustomed to the night life that was the theater. Although necessity had required him to take other jobs in the real world at different times throughout his long career, the theater was really the only life he had ever wanted to know.
The production they were currently working on was a mix of professionals and amateurs. He had been surprised at the quality of some of the cast and crew until he’d been told that the bankroller had deep pockets and was funding the production to amuse a lady friend.
Peter figured that was as good a reason as any to put on a play. It kept him in work and, at his age, he’d take what he could get. When he reached the office, he grabbed his clipboard and reviewed the notes he’d made for script and prop changes. Once he had everything fresh in his mind, he left his office, clipboard in hand. It was his custom to walk out on stage as early as possible and touch base with the others who were trickling in to ready themselves for the evening practice. He found that he wasn’t the first one on stage today.
“Hello, Peter.” Nina was a forty-something woman with short black hair, glasses, and a fondness for creating an atmosphere of make-believe on stage that helped an audience to see inside the mind of the director. As the set designer, she was responsible for coordinating the work of members of the crew to magically create it.
“Is he in yet?” Peter asked.
Nina didn’t have to ask who Peter was referring to. Neither one of them had known the director before working with him on this play. They’d heard the bankroller had brought him in.
“Haven’t seen him. Do you have any changes I need to know about?” Nina walked over to stand next to Peter. As the stage manager, he kept track of what everyone else needed to be doing.
Peter held up his clipboard and began running through the changes. There weren’t many new ones that Nina needed to hear about since the last time he’d given an update. The first performance was scheduled for the following weekend. The advantage of having a bankroller with deep pockets and hiring the best skilled cast and crew possible meant that the team had been on top of things from the beginning. They’d been practicing for weeks and everything had come together better than he had hoped. He wasn’t anticipating any major problems at this point.
Peter stopped speaking as more of the crew arrived to join them. He waited until the others had formed a circle around him before giving the rest of the updates that pertained to them. By this time, the crew had been working together long enough to have a comfortable camaraderie and Peter was happy to see that they seemed to be a good group. There had been no difficult characters requiring special hand-holding for either the cast or crew. Really, it was probably the best production he’d ever been involved with.
Peter greeted each of the crew by name. Many were old timers like Peter and he had worked with them on previous productions. By the time Peter was done with the updates for the crew, the cast began arriving including a particular redhead. If he had to guess, he’d say Margaret Milne was the woman they all had to thank for their current job.
“Good evening, everyone.” Margaret stood center stage and marveled at the feeling it gave her. She’d have to thank Elliot again for his gift. Being involved in the play had been a blast so far. She smiled at the others gathered on stage. Over time, she had learned all of their names.
Hank, the lighting technician, was around Margaret’s age. He was a quiet man who tended to blush whenever around her. She thought it was adorable.
Wes, the carpenter, was closer to Callie’s age. He worked in construction when he felt like it, but Margaret got the impression that the mood didn’t strike him often.
Steve handled the props. She knew that he was retired from whatever vocation he had in his youth but wasn’t yet certain what that was.
“Margaret, if you have a chance, I’d like you to try on a costume for me before the session begins tonight.” Camille handled the wardrobe.
Margaret was thrilled. Having costumes designed just for her had been so exciting. “Of course. I’m ready whenever you are.”
She followed the other woman to a room behind the stage area. She assumed Camille was somewhere in her sixties. Every time she saw Camille, the other woman had a tape measure dangling from her neck.
“How are things going with you so far?” Camille asked.
“I won’t lie, it’s been a lot of fun. Have you been involved with the theater for long?” Margaret loved hearing about the lives of others.
Camille entered a room and flipped on some lights. “I was a seamstress for years both in the theater and elsewhere. After I retired from my real job, I decided I wasn’t yet ready to call it quits. This keeps me amused.” Camille pulled a gown from a large clothes rack on casters and handed it to Margaret.
“I went with a nice green. It should show well on stage for that particular scene and will offset your red hair.” Camille gestured to a divider that Margaret could use.
Margaret changed as quickly as possible behind the divider. Camille was pinning a few places on her costume when the door opened and another woman close to Margaret’s age stepped in. Audrey handled the ticket sales at the front office. She was one of the people who knew about Margaret’s connection to Elliot, but Margaret suspected it didn’t matter either way. Audrey seemed to be friendly to anyone she met.
“They’ll be ready for you in about ten minutes,” Audrey said. “Oh, that will be lovely on stage.”
“I could get used to all this attention,” Margaret said with a smile. “I’ll be out as soon as Camille is done.”
“Done.” Camille straightened after inserting the last pin. “I’ll leave you to change back to your street clothes. I think we’re good with all of your costumes now.”
Margaret thanked her warmly and quickly changed back to her regular clothes. As she stepped back out into the hall, she ran into John Laslo, the director. He was an attractive man in his mid-fifties.
John continued walking toward the stage as he spoke with her. “Margaret, hello. All ready with your costumes?”
“I am. I should thank you again, John, for taking on this play.” Margaret kept her voice low. She assumed that others suspected her connections but didn’t want to flaunt them.
“Whatever Elliot wants. You know how persuasive he can be. I must say, though, we have a great cast and crew. You can’t fault Elliot his taste.” John smiled down at Margaret.
Margaret chose to deflect. “Yes, our leading man has really been impressive. Have you worked with him before?”
John took her change of focus amiably. “Not the leading man, no. He’s actually local to the Pomelo Cove area. I’ve never spent time in this part of the country before.”
Margaret had known that John Laslo was not local to the southeast, though where Elliot had found him was beyond her.
“I know I don’t have much experience with all of this, but it seems that we should be in good shape for our upcoming performances.” Margaret stepped on the stage behind John.
John stopped and looked around the stage with a satisfied smile. “I agree. Everything has fallen into place. I don’t anticipate any problems with this production.”
A small corner of Margaret’s mind wondered if such a bold statement would prove to jinx them all.
Chapter Eight
Callie stood in front of her refrigerator with the door open and made a mental note to stop at the grocery store. She could live without a lot of things, but she was out of sugar and tea bags which meant no homemade sweet tea. She was also low on food. She grabbed an apple and a container of yogurt and ate them both as she stood in front of her aquarium. She had a variety of fish including guppy, black molly, and dwarf gourami. Her single betta was the most colorful of the group. As she sprinkled the fish food into the tank, she thought again about getting an automatic feeder. At the moment, she just couldn’t justify the cost. Perhaps if her income ever stabilized. Currently, she was having doubts that would ever happen.
Callie thought about the jobs she had held over the years as she finished getting ready for work. Before joining up with Corky, her resume had boasted a fairly long list. She’d worked different jobs all through college and had continued doing so after she graduated as she struggled to find something that interested her. It wasn’t until she’d had the chance to work with Corky that she had discovered the one job she really wanted.
She wondered how long she would be able to remain doing it. She’d been happy when Anilese had walked into her office. It was the second paying job in one week and Callie had taken that as a sign that things might be turning around. She wondered now if that were true. Her mind returned to her meeting with Anilese as she drove to her office. The woman had appeared to be genuinely concerned about the welfare of her boyfriend. She had described with detail the various places that she had frequented with him. Yet, according to what Callie had learned, none of those events appear to have actually happened. What could that mean?
She parked her car on the side street and greeted Sierra and Michael as she entered the office.
“How did things go yesterday?” Callie asked as she crossed to her desk.
Michael had his ear buds in and his focus was on the computer in front of him. As far as Callie could tell, he was totally unaware of her presence.
“Good. We got another contract,” Sierra said without looking up from her computer.
Callie wished she had the same aptitude and interest that the two of them had. Jobs seemed to fall out of trees for programmers, though she wasn’t certain she liked the requirements. Sierra and Michael often sat for the entire day in the very same position as they typed on their computer. Callie preferred her own work environment where she got out and spoke with people from all walks of life during the course of her typical work day.
She checked her messages and found none from Anilese. She tried calling the number Anilese had given her. After her confusing conversations the previous day at the coffee shop, restaurant, and the dock at the cove, she needed Anilese to explain what was going on. There was no answer and it was the only contact information Anilese had given her.
She was about to look up an address for Anilese when her cell phone rang. She could tell by the ring tone that it was her mother. A short time later, she was parking her car in her mother’s drive.
“Are you okay?” Callie asked as she entered her mother’s house. She’d gotten there as quickly as she could.
Margaret was pacing her small living room.
“I need your help.”
Callie looked around the house wondering what the problem could be.
Margaret stopped pacing. “It’s the play.”
Callie managed to control her voice. “I just rushed here and nearly got killed at the intersection of Broadway and Main.”
“Callie, I know what you’re thinking. This isn’t about helping me to learn my lines or anything like that. It’s serious. And it isn’t about a fabricated job for you funded by Elliot. Something has happened, and it requires the services of a private investigator.”
“Okay. How about I get us some sweet tea and you can tell me about it?” Callie went to the fridge and pulled out the empty pitcher. She stared at it for a moment wondering why there seemed to be such a shortage lately every time she desperately needed a glass. Then she pulled out the pot her mother used to make tea and began making another pitcher.
“How has practice been going?” Callie asked. Her mother had taken a seat at the dining room table.
“It’s been an amazing experience. Truly, Elliot knows me so well. This was the perfect present for me.”
Callie saw the slight frown form on her mother’s face. “But?”
“The leading man has disappeared.”
“Maybe you should start at the beginning?” Callie suggested.
“The first performance is scheduled for next weekend. Everyone has been working for weeks on this production.” Margaret worried a napkin between her fingers. “We all arrived last night for another rehearsal.”
“You’ve been practicing in the evenings
and on weekends, right?” Callie tried to remember what her mother had told her about the play.
“Yes. Some of the cast and crew have day jobs, including the leading man, for that matter. We don’t have practice every night of the week either. But we do get together several nights each week and then again on the weekends.”
Callie measured the sugar into the water to first make a simple syrup. She put the pot on the stove and turned the heat on.
“Can I assume someone tried contacting the missing leading man?”
“Of course. There are a lot of people involved with this production, Callie. To have the leading man not show up like that was very odd. Of course, since this is extremely important to the entire cast and crew, and Elliot is funding the play, he has agreed to pay for your services.”
Callie wasn’t surprised. It wasn’t as though she didn’t appreciate Elliot’s concern about her well-being and that of her fledgling business. She just wished that she didn’t need his assistance so often.
“So, was practice cancelled last night?” Callie asked. She could see how everyone would find that annoying.
“Oh, no. Of course not. The understudy stepped right into the role.”
“Understudy?” Callie wondered just how large this production was. She’d assumed that it was a very small production designed solely to keep her mother both busy and amused.
“He really is truly divine,” Margaret said with a smile.
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. Anyway, the understudy stepped into the role and the practice went on as planned. But Callie, I think something must be wrong with the leading man. I want you to find him.”
Callie narrowed her eyes at her mother and tried to gauge if this was another one of Elliot’s contrived jobs for her.
“He’s really missing?” Callie asked.
Margaret’s face looked guileless when she nodded her agreement. Callie had seen it too many times before to assume it was sincere now. In a lot of ways, her mother really was suited to a life in the theater.
