by Jenny Kales
She glanced toward the dining room doors anxiously, but whipped her head back around when Allan Browne grasped her forearm.
“Who would do this to my theater company?” Allan said, his face flushed and his breathing becoming labored. Callie realized with a shock that he wasn’t horror stricken over Tammy, as she had thought he was.
Allan Browne was angry.
“Who would do this?” he repeated, his voice gaining volume. Callie jumped as he reared back in his seat and stood, facing the buzzing audience.
“Which one of you did this?” he bellowed, his eyes narrowing and his curly red mop of hair quivering with rage. “I’ll find out. So help me I will! And when I do ...” Allan broke off with what could only be described as a roar and stormed towards the restrooms that doubled as actors’ dressing rooms.
“Callie, don’t let him get away,” Sands cried, busy with Tammy and the paramedics, who thankfully, had just arrived.
Are you serious? Callie thought. The guy was clearly unstable. She was just starting towards him, when Hugh stopped her.
“I’ll go,” he said. “You stay here. That guy is nuts.” Callie didn’t know if he meant Allan Browne, Sands, or both. Hugh jogged to the back of the room, where Callie could still hear Allan Browne screaming and yelling.
The paramedics took Tammy away on a gurney. Sands said a few words to one of the police officers who had just arrived on the scene, then walked over to Callie.
“They seem to think Tammy might be under the influence.” Callie gasped in shock. “They’ll do tests.” Sands frowned and looked about the room. “Where’s the director?”
“Hugh offered to go after Allan, and I let him. It sounded like they were headed towards the ‘dressing rooms’ aka the restroom.”
“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in harm’s way. I just really need to keep an eye on that guy.”
“No problem,” Callie said. “I’ve put myself in harm’s way many a time.”
Sands cleared his throat, a small smile quirking up the corners of his mouth. “You certainly have. Right now, I need to get these people interviewed.” He gave Callie a rueful smile. “‘Murder mystery night’ is becoming a bit too realistic for my liking.”
***
Tammy under the influence? Callie couldn’t quite accept that theory as she submitted to yet another police statement and watched as the play attendees were questioned and released to go home. Why would you get drunk before you were supposed to perform in front of lots of people? Tammy didn’t seem like the type to get stage fright.
Callie shook her head. What did she know? Maybe all the actors had a drink together before each show, though it didn’t seem like a good idea to her. Raine would know, Callie thought. She knew Sands was most likely planning to question Raine, but Callie planned to ask her a few questions of her own as soon as she had a chance.
Callie scanned the room. Raine was sitting by herself, sniffling into a white cloth napkin, obviously taken from one of the place settings. Hugh was nowhere to be found. Was he still keeping a lid on Allan Browne? Either that or he was being questioned by the police.
Raine looked up as Callie approached, attempting to smile through her tears. “I just can’t believe this,” she wailed. “Don’t think I’m horrible, but I was looking forward to my acting comeback. I guess what happened tonight, plus Holly’s death, will just about shut down the theater troupe.”
“What makes you say that?” Callie asked in a gentle voice, but inside she was feeling anxious. Hugh would be back any minute and would probably not take too kindly to an interrogation of his wife.
“Allan Browne told all of us that we had to “kill it.” Sorry, that’s actor talk,” she said when she saw Callie’s expression. “Let’s just say he told us we’d better be excellent tonight or the murder mystery play was cancelled for the rest of the summer. He couldn’t afford any more damage to his reputation.”
“Nice guy,” Callie muttered. Clearly, Allan wasn’t too worried about the fact that one of his young and talented actresses had been killed in cold blood.
“He really isn’t so bad when he isn’t yelling about our acting,” Raine retorted. She blew her nose. “This is all such a tragedy. I really can’t even believe it.”
“It certainly is,” Callie agreed. She hesitated. “Raine,” she said sweetly. “What about before the show? Do you have any rituals? Like, do you sing a song…say a prayer…have a drink or two?”
Raine put down her napkin/handkerchief and stared at Callie. “Whatever are you talking about? We didn’t sing, say a prayer … or drink. Why would we do that? Especially me? I only just learned my lines!”
“Don’t worry about that. I want to know about Tammy. Did you see her right before the show?”
“Yes, I did. She mentioned she thought she had a summer cold coming on, and I told her it was probably stress. She drank a cup of tea to help soothe her throat.”
“Tea? She had tea before the show, and that’s it?”
“Yes!” Raine narrowed her eyes at Callie. “She drank a cup of tea. That’s not a crime, is it? A lot of the actors drink herbal tea and such before performing, sometimes with honey. It helps clear the voice. That’s the strongest thing I ever saw anybody drink, by the way. Not booze, for goodness sakes.” Raine exhaled loudly, the bangs of her flapper wig blowing upward.
“OK, OK, my mistake,” Callie soothed. She noticed that a group of the actors she’d met at the Beats on the Bay event were huddled in a corner, whispering. Allan Browne was not among them.
Callie decided to quit while she was ahead. “Take care of yourself.” She stood up to leave.
“Sure thing,” Raine said solemnly, nodding. “You, too.”
After asking around for several minutes, Callie located the room Sands had appropriated for taking statements, but the officer standing outside wouldn’t let her see him.
“He’s going to be here awhile.” The officer was stern.
“Well, can you tell him Callie Costas left and that I’ll be in touch?”
The officer nodded, clearly not in the mood for delivering lovers’ messages.
Callie’s legs felt leaden as she walked to her car, thankful that she and Sands had driven separate vehicles. So much for getting the scoop on Holly. Tammy’s medical emergency had blown her plans to dig into Holly’s death right out of the water.
Or had it? Callie was deep in thought as she drove home. The night sky was inky black but dazzlingly clear. Stars twinkled as she drove past the bay and the relaxing sound of waves gently lapping the shore calmed her mind.
Tammy being under the influence of drugs or alcohol could have many ramifications, Callie considered. However, if all she had consumed was tea, could somebody have spiked it with a dangerous substance? Say, Lisa, for example? The only question was, why?
Or perhaps Tammy had taken a drug or had a drink without anyone seeing. She could simply be upset about the tragic loss of Holly, her fellow student and colleague, and felt she needed a way to cope. Or was she feeling guilty?
Callie shuddered. She had a hard time picturing Tammy in the role of killer. Then again, she had witnessed some animosity between Lisa and Tammy as well as Allan and Tammy. The questions kept circling in Callie’s mind. Why would Tammy have killed Holly? None of it made sense, especially now that she had possibly been dosed with who knows what.
Once again, Callie’s mind strayed towards the house where she had discovered Holly’s body. Sands had said that homes in the area were being broken into and ransacked. Callie was sure she’d missed something on her first visit to the house. For one thing, she hadn’t known what significance it would play in her life, and Holly’s death.
Callie slowed down the car and pulled to a stop under an oak tree. She sat for a minute, deep in thought. She wanted to go back to the house where she’d found Holly, but she couldn’t do it in broad daylight. It would have to be now. That is, if she didn’t want to get caught.
The reasonable side of her nature tol
d her to stay away from the house. If she was found there, she could wind up in big trouble. Sands would be disappointed in her. Still, she argued with herself, Olivia was sleeping at a friend’s house, so she didn’t have to worry about rushing home to her. She knew she needed to take Koukla out but what Callie wanted to do shouldn’t take long, no more than an hour.
Olivia. She had begged her mother to help find out what happened to her teacher and Callie had promised.
That did it. Callie picked up her cell phone and dialed a familiar number with trembling fingers.
“Max,” Callie said when he answered. “I know it’s late but I need your help. I want to go and check something out and I shouldn’t do it alone for safety reasons. Can you come with me?”
“I guess?” Max said, sounding uncertain. “What’s up?”
“I can be at your house in 10 minutes. I’ll tell you once we’re on the road. By the way, do you have a flashlight?”
Eleven
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Max asked for around the fifteenth time since she’d picked him up at his apartment on the south end of Crystal Bay. He’d produced the requested flashlight without batting an eyelash but had peppered her with questions. Callie had simply explained that she needed to revisit the house where she’d found Holly.
“Have you considered that the killer might be watching the house?” Max sputtered. “Anyway, who knows what Holly was doing there? How do you know the house has anything to do with her death? It was empty, right?”
“The killer can’t watch the house twenty-four/seven,” Callie argued. “And as far as the house being important, I don’t know if it is or not. The whole thing just seems strange to me. Why was Holly even there? I feel like something is staring me in the face, and I just can’t see it. Maybe this will help. I’m not breaking in. I just want to look around the grounds.”
“Uh, Callie, I hate to point it out to you, but isn’t it your boyfriend’s job to find the killer? Why the undercover spy routine?”
They stopped at a light and Callie turned to Max. “I know. But I promised Olivia I would help. She’s devastated.” Max started to interrupt, but Callie put a hand on his arm. “This is probably a long shot, but I feel like this recent rash of break-ins is no accident. Something is going on with these fancy homes, and I want to know what it is. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. If you want me to bring you home, I will.”
“If I go home, are you going right back there alone?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I thought.” Max shook his head and chuckled softly. “Fine. I’m coming with you.”
The rest of the drive passed in silence. As they got closer to the house, Callie explained that she would park the car several blocks away in case any neighbors were out and about. She didn’t want someone to see a strange car in the driveway and call the police.
The neighborhood was quiet, with a gentle summer breeze and the chirping of crickets the only sounds. A nearly full moon shimmered from behind a wispy cloud. Max and Callie walked quickly but quietly towards the house, Callie leading the way. They kept the flashlight off as they approached the hedge-lined driveway.
“Now what?” Max whispered.
“I’d love to get inside the house,” Callie was wistful. “But I know that I can’t do that. Let’s take a walk around the house and give a look to the backyard. I’m not exactly sure what I’m looking for.”
“But you’ll know when you find it?” Max asked wearily. He gestured toward the yard. “Lead the way.”
The house was eerie in the moonlight. The tall white pillars gave off a ghostly glow and Callie shivered, despite the warm evening.
“Flashlight,” she whispered to Max and he handed it to her. Quickly, she pointed the beam of light into the large window on the first floor. The shadowy images of a fireplace and empty rooms stared back.
Turning off the light, she hurried to the front door, Max on her heels, but yellow crime scene tape stopped her. “Darn. I should have known,” Callie hissed.
“You aren’t thinking of breaking crime scene tape?” Max asked.
“No. Of course not. I told you, I don’t want to disrupt the investigation.” And betray Sands was Callie’s unspoken thought.
She motioned to Max. “Let’s go around the back and just look around. You never know.”
Max seemed to be getting into the spirit of the enterprise now that he knew for certain that breaking and entering wasn’t on the agenda. “Yeah, let’s go.”
They tiptoed to the backyard, Callie trying not to look at the bushes where she’d found Holly. The bushes were surrounded by a small makeshift fence, also covered in crime scene tape. The spearmint scent she’d encountered when she’d found Holly’s body brought back the chilling memory with the force of a blow. Callie grew dizzy. She took some deep breaths and forged ahead.
Callie and Max stood looking at the back of the large, elegant house. She turned and scanned the yard. Tall hedges protected her and Max from the sight of any visitors on either side. The lush lawn sloped gently toward the water and the home’s private pier, which now stood empty.
“Well?” Max whispered.
“I don’t know.” Callie forced herself to walk back to the area where she’d found Holly. Max walked toward the back of the yard, where it sloped towards the bay. The spearmint smell made her feel faint. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to remember that day. She remembered seeing the tracks on the dusty floor and the swipes through the dust that had made it look as though Holly had been dragged.
With a chill, she remembered seeing beautiful Holly lying lifeless on the ground.
“What were you doing here, Holly?” Callie realized she’d said it aloud.
“Did you say something?” Max was suddenly at her shoulder and she jumped, stifling a scream.
“Gosh, sorry!” Max whispered an apology. “Did you find anything?”
“No. Not yet.”
“There’s a tool shed back there,” Max said. “It’s open, but there’s not much here. Just a couple of rusty rakes and a snow shovel.”
Callie nodded and stepped closer to the house. It loomed over her and despite its elegance, it looked sinister in the shadowy moonlight. She scanned it, waiting for some epiphany to strike. Sighing, she turned to leave.
Wait. What was that?
Callie pointed Max’s flashlight at the top windows, stopping when she reached one on the far right of the massive house. “Look!” she whispered as loudly as she dared. Max was walking the perimeter of the yard, but he stopped and ran over to her.
“Look!” she repeated pointing, but more quietly this time, training the flashlight on the broken pane just long enough for Max to see it. Extinguishing the light, she peered around to see if the flash had attracted any neighbors, but the tall hedges and trees in the back yard seemed to offer excellent cover. For the killer, too, Callie thought.
“I think that window has a broken pane,” she whispered excitedly to Max. “If the police had seen that the day of the murder, wouldn’t they have boarded it up?”
“Do you think somebody has been going inside the house through that window? It’s one way to bypass the crime scene tape,” Max offered.
“Maybe. But why?”
The two of them crept closer to the house.
“What if we just climb up and look inside?” Callie suggested. “We might see something. I’m not sure how we’ll get up there, though. There’s got to be a way.”
Max was already running in the direction to the tool shed. Callie followed him, wanting to shout out questions but keeping her mouth shut. Suddenly, Max disappeared behind the small wooden structure.
“What are you doing?”
Max’s voice was muffled. She heard the rustle of grass and then the clink of metal.
“Max!”
Callie heard some grunts and groans and an “ouch!” but soon, a sweaty but smiling Max emerged. He was dragging a rusty step ladder.
“Thin
k this might work?” Max asked, clearly triumphant at his find.
“Perfect!” Callie nearly hugged him.
Max dragged the ladder to the house and positioned it underneath the window with the broken pane.
“I’ll go,” Callie said before he could argue. Carefully, she climbed the rickety ladder as quickly as she could, the flashlight stuck into the waistband of her jeans.
Reaching the top of the ladder, she tensed as she felt it sway, but relaxed when she felt Max steady it. Callie shone the flashlight into the broken window pane. Oddly, it looked as if it had been neatly cut. No jagged edges poked out at her.
The high-powered flashlight revealed that Callie was looking into what looked like a library. She could see empty built-in bookshelves against the far wall.
Callie squinted and shone the flashlight around the room, spotting only a few dusty chairs and a desk.
The ladder gave a violent shake.
“Callie!” Max stage whispered. “Get down!”
“What?” Callie sputtered.
“Just get down! Now!”
Callie stuck the flashlight back into her waistband and scuttled down the ladder, her heart in her throat.
As soon as she had reached the ground, Max grabbed her by the hand and started running toward the back of the garden. Callie stumbled along behind him. She stopped for a minute, her breath coming in gasps.
“Max. What is it?”
“Shhh. We have to hide.” He pulled her behind a tall hedge. “Somebody is out here.”
Callie felt like someone had thrown an ice bucket over her. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. I heard somebody sneeze.”
“A sneeze?” Callie was incredulous. “Was it nearby?”
Max squeezed her arm like a vise and didn’t answer. She wrenched her arm away, but Max grabbed her again and pointed toward a break in the hedge.
A dark figure, of medium height and wearing what looked like a black or navy hooded sweatshirt was walking across the lawn, headed toward the ladder they’d just vacated.
Twelve
Callie and Max looked at each other.