A comedic romp that follows aspiring actors as they take on undercover roles posing as friends, lovers, or family of clients who don’t have any. It’s a steady paycheck, but can these thespians keep their love of drama out of the workplace? Previously… Camilla, Beth and Richard’s new client at Richard’s Private Eye Agency, didn’t show up for her appointment. They’ve just discovered that she may have been kidnapped.
Beth chose to stand in the darkest patch of a shadow, nestled in the corner of Camilla’s office, away from the burning gaze of the sun. It felt like a haven that could cloak whispers and secrets in its heavy pools of stillness, which was exactly what she needed. Detective Maloney would be returning any moment, so she needed answers now.
She wanted to know Richard’s plan—if there even was one—and who Richard Crawford was exactly. In the garage, he told her he was kicked out of the detective unit for ‘technically’ leaking classified information, but that there was more to the story. That’s all she could get out of him before Maloney interrupted.
With a tilt of her chin, a gesture her mother complained was too strong and stubborn for its own good, she beckoned him to come closer. Soon the cool shadows were filled with his heat and gaze.
“What’s your strategy right now? We don’t know anything about a ransom note.”
“But I was right, wasn’t I?”
“This is someone’s life. We can’t pretend to know that she wrote a ransom note for herself. What if she was legitimately taken against her will?” She began to grow uneasy as they stood, entwined in shadows and soft vapors of heat. Was this all a tremendous mistake? She didn’t know anything about Richard really. All she knew was he could be reckless, uncannily brilliant, and devastatingly charming….the recipe for breakthrough or disaster, depending on how the pieces fell into place.
“I never said she wrote the note.” His gaze was soft as he tucked himself deeper into shadows and closer to her.
“You didn’t argue otherwise when Maloney inferred it.”
“I need to see the note first—” He reached for her hand and held it in a slack grip. “We need to see the note first, before we can make any guesses as to who wrote it and why.”
Beth felt her breath catch in her throat. She could tell by the cavernous openness in his eyes, the way they drank her in like a child ravenously gulping down a chilled glass of milk, that he wanted to kiss her.
The door swung open, and Richard shot out of the corner. Maloney traipsed in and halted at the center of the ruby colored Persian rug that covered most of the office’s mahogany floor. A woman in her mid-thirties, whose muscular frame formed sculpted waves under her navy blue dress shirt, was right behind him. Beside her was a short, skinny man. His small beady eyes darted about the room as though someone or something was going to jump out at any moment.
Maloney didn’t bother introducing them, although they clearly recognized Richard, for better or worse. In the detective’s hand was a crisp, white piece of paper. Although she couldn’t make out the words, she could see that the penmanship was clean and neat. The note was written in black ink. He handed it to Richard, who gaped at it in surprise. She moved to his side and gasped.
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