"I don't have much time, Mr. Jankowski," Andrew Donovan said as Carter and Callie entered the office. "Hello, -" he said, smiling at Callie with curiosity.

"This is my partner, Callie Harris, Mr. Donovan," Carter told him.

Donovan shook her hand. "Miss Harris."

"It's Mrs. Harris," she told him. "I'm a widow." She looked at the photograph of the red and white sailboat on a wall. "What a lovely sailboat. I don't think I've ever seen one with red sails."

"I haven't either," Donovan sighed. "Not since I lost that one in a storm off of Padre six years ago. Never had the heart to try to replace her. Penny and I spent the first two weeks we were married on that boat, never hit port once. We took her back down to the coast every year until that day."

Callie glanced at Carter, who took a the photographs out of his pocket. "Mr. Donovan, were you aware that your boat was in the painting -"

"No, I - I never really looked at the painting - well, except for - you know - at Penny. Or what I thought was Penny. I don't remember seeing the boat. It's so small, it would be understandable if someone missed it. Don't you agree?" He shook his head. "Now, as I said, I'm very busy, and am due in a meeting for a multi-million dollar project right now. If you'll both excuse me -" he extended his hand toward the door, his earlier amiability gone.

Callie and Carter had no choice but to leave the office. As they left the secretary's office, Callie told Carter, "I think he knows more than he's saying."

"I'm sure of it," he told her, taking her arm as they left the building. "How would you like to meet *Mrs.* Donovan?" he asked, opening the passenger door of the Jeep.

"Penny? I've been looking forward to the experience," she answered with a huge smile.

"Then I'd better drive," he decided, helping her into the passenger seat.

Callie wasn't surprised by all of the statuary and paintings that depicted people in various states of undress as the maid showed them through to the sun room. From beyond the closed door, the woman's voice was saying, "Oh, that does feel good, Johnny. Your hands are magic," she said with a sigh.

The maid tapped on the door before opening it and stepping aside. A massage table was set up in the middle of the room, and a muscled, tanned young man with white blonde hair was expertly massaging Penny's bare back - which, like the rest of her - was uncovered. "Your guests, ma'am," she said before closing the door behind them.

Penny turned her head to the side, smiling. "You're back sooner than I thought you would be, Carter," she said. "Not that I'm complaining, of course." Her smile moved to Callie. "And you must be the homebody that he spoke of."

"Callie Harris," Callie said.

"Did he tell you that I invited the both of you to my next party? She's lovely, Carter," Penny purred, sitting up and taking her time about wrapping a towel around herself. Reaching out, she touched the massuer's chest. "Why don't you get the sauna nice and hot, Johnny? I'll join you in there as soon as I've finished with my company - unless I can convince them to join us." Johnny smiled, giving Callie a smile as he left the room and went out to the patio. As he walked out of the door, the towel he was wearing low on his hips slipped, leaving all three with a view of his buttocks. "He's such a show off. You should see the front view, dear," she told Callie.

Aware that she was being teased, Callie smiled. "I'm sure. Maybe some other time."

Penny slipped off of the table and moved over to a bar in the corner. "Would either of you care for something to drink?" she asked as she poured herself a glass of something.

"Not at the moment, Penny," Carter said. "I have a question for you about the painting."

"My favorite topic," she sighed, dropping into a chair and indicating that they should be seated as well. "What's the question?"

He pulled out the photographs. "Is the sailboat in the painting -"

"Oh my," she said, handing the photos back. "You finally saw that tiny detail. Most people don't, of course. Yes, it was our boat - The Painted Lady. That was the name of the boat - it was named that when Andrew bought it."

Callie asked, "A bit of a coincidence that the boat just happened to be out there on the day Mateo painted that canvas, wasn't it?"

Penny laughed. "Coincidence? Not at all! Don't you see? That's how Andrew knew I was the one in the painting. He was out there in the water, watching! He knew I went out there early mornings for a swim and to take some sun before the crowds took over the beach. He was there to watch me -" she smiled. "There's no way that he didn't see Mateo painting me - or what happened after he finished working that morning. But then, dear Andrew has always preferred to be a spectator rather than a participant."

"Did you know that Mateo was married?"

"Oh, yes. He told me all about her. She was a poor, repressed little thing who refused to give him a divorce on - religious grounds, I believe. I've often wondered what happened to her after Mateo took his little walk into the ocean that day. He did it on the same beach where we met. It makes me feel even closer to him, somehow." She lifted her almost empty glass. "To Mateo." Finishing the drink, she stood up and went over to the bar again. "Was there anything else you wanted to know?" she asked. "Johnny's waiting for me in the sauna."

"No, I think that was it," Carter said. "We'll see you at the opening of the showing, I trust?"

She squared her shoulders and turned to face them with a smile that didn't *quite* reach her eyes. "I wouldn't miss it. Even though it means I'll have to put up with seeing Andrew again. But I'll survive the experience. It was a pleasure to meet you, Callie. Take care of this hunk."

"I'll do my best," Callie told her.

Back in the Jeep, Callie sighed. "Such a sad, lonely woman," she said.

"Lonely? Callie, you *did* see the guy she's going to share a sauna with, right?"

"And you know as well as I do that just because she's entertaining a gorgeous hunk doesn't mean she's not lonely. Allie's a good example of that."

"You really think that Allie would say that she's lonely?"

"No, I'm sure she would deny it. But there's a lot to be said for having someone, well, special, around to talk to and -"

"And?" he prompted, giving her a sideways grin.

"We'll discuss it when we get home," she told him.

"Promises, promises," he sighed.

They barely got into the loft when Callie threw her arms around Carter's neck and gave him a long, sexy kiss. "How's that for a promise?" she asked, pulling his shirt from the top of his jeans.

Carter grabbed her hand to pull her toward the bedroom - only to have a telephone start to ring. Sighing, Carter grabbed his cellphone. "It's Mateo's agent," he told her, pressing the button to answer the call. "Hello?… Mr. Patel, yes, do you have the in - … I see. How long do you think it will take?... I need that information as soon as possible, sir…. Very well. Thank you."

"He can't get Mrs. Almanzo's contact information," Callie guessed.

"The bank wants him to submit the request in writing and they will contact her to get permission."

"She won't give it to him if she finds out why we want it."

"I told him I was a reporter doing a story on Mateo because of the showing here at the Carrington, that I wouldn't use anything she told me without her permission."

She put her arms around him, tucking her hands into the back of his jeans. "*Very* smart idea," she told him. "Now, where were we?"

"Almost to the stairs," he told her.

This time, she took *his* hand and pulled him to the stairs and up to the bedroom.

"Do you believe what Penny said about her husband being a spectator?" Callie asked Carter some time later. They had moved back down to the living area, with Carter typing on the computer while Callie perched on the sofa wearing an oversized tee shirt

"That's hard to say. Did Andrew give you that impression?"

"I don't know. He did lie to us about not having noticed that boat in the painting -"

"Or maybe Penny was the one who was lying," Carter suggested.

"How so?"

"Well, Andrew told me that Mateo said Penny wasn't the woman in the painting, remember? What if Penny was the one on the boat, watching the beach that morning and saw Mateo painting someone else?"

"What would she have to gain? For all she knew, it could have been anyone on that beach with Mateo - for her to claim she was the woman -"

"Bragging rights?" he suggested. "It would give her a certain cache to claim that she had posed in the nude on a beach for Mateo - Especially with the crowd she claims to be part of. Mateo did tell Andrew that he didn't care if people *thought* it was Penny, remember?"

"Well, I still don't understand why the painting would have been switched. Or *when* it happened."

"Well, as for why - I asked the other owners what painting in the showing they would want if they had a choice. Almost all of them had the same answer."

"Belleza al Amanecer," she guessed. "So one of them might have arranged for it to be changed to get their hands on it without having to pay for it?"

"You and I both know that Penny will never agree to sell the painting for any price. It's her claim to fame, as it were. The only way anyone else will get it is to steal it." Callie nodded, considering his words. "Did you get the list of those invited to the first night of the showing?" he asked.

"Yes," she went over and picked up the folder she had been putting things about the case into. "Here it is. All of the owners of the paintings in the show, as well as the museum's bigwigs and financial supporters."

Carter scanned the names. "I have a connection at the local paper here - the society pages. I'll call tomorrow morning and see what I can find out. You know, most thefts like this aren't done by the visible-"

"Visible?"

"People who are well known - who have countless eyes on their every move for whatever reason," he explained.

"As opposed to the invisible," she nodded, understanding what he was saying. "Cleaning crews - " she glanced at the list. "Or caterers. I do have a few things to discuss with Mr. Linden tomorrow, don't I? I'm sure the museum uses a cleaning service for the galleries. And that they'll hire a caterer for the opening night. I also think that I might need to talk to Larry Kelso again. I'd like to a blow by blow about the transport of those artworks from their owners to the museum."

Carter pushed the chair back from the desk and pulled her into his lap. "That's tomorrow. Do you have any plans for tonight?"

"Hmm. Let me think about it - I'll probably spend the evening with my favorite fella," she told him.

"That sounds promising," he said. "Any preferences about where to go for dinner?"

"I don't really care. Surprise me."

"Riing! Riing!"

Callie groaned as the noise pulled her out of a deep sleep. "Is that yours or mine?" she asked Carter.

"Yours," he muttered.

"Riing! Riing!"

Fumbling around on the nightstand, her fingers finally closed around the cellphone, and Callie pushed the button without looking at the screen. "Hello?"

"C-Callie, it's Allie."

The hesitation in her friend's voice woke Callie immediately, and she sat up. "Allie. What's wrong?" All kinds of possible scenarios ran through her mind.

"I-I'm fine, but - Marty -"

"Dad? Something's wrong with Dad?" Carter was sitting up now, and turned on the light beside the bed.

"There was an-an accident," Allie said. "He didn't want me to call, but -"

"Where is he?" Callie asked.

"Presbyterian," she answered.

"I'm on my way as soon as I get dressed," Callie told her, hanging up the phone.

Carter had already pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed a t-shirt, making note of the time. It was almost two in the morning. "I'll bring the Jeep around to the front door," he told her, slipping his feet into a pair of tennis shoes. When Callie was just sitting on the edge of the bed, he went over to her and pulled her to her feet and into his arms. "He'll be okay. Get dressed."

She nodded, and he watched for a moment as she gathered her clothes before he got the keys from her purse.

Callie deliberately shut down her thoughts as she methodically got dressed, grabbed her purse and locked the loft door as she left. As promised, Carter was sitting in the Jeep, waiting as she came out of the building. "Which hospital?" he asked.

"She said Presbytarian. It's on -"

"I know where it is," he told her. "We went there a couple of months ago to see that friend of yours, remember?"

Callie nodded. "He has to be okay," she said. "I can't imagine what would happen if -"

Carter reached over and took her hand. "Did Allie say what happened?"

"She said something about an accident. That Dad didn't want her to call."

"That's a good thing, isn't it? It means he's awake and making decisions."

"Why wouldn't he want her to call me and let me know?" Callie asked. "And for that matter - why was Allie there to begin with?"

"You can ask both of those questions when we get there," he told her.

He offered to let her off at the Emergency entrance, but Callie said no, fully aware that she wanted him with her in case things were worse than Allie had claimed they were. When they entered the ER waiting area, she saw Allie immediately. She had a sling around her left arm, and had obviously been crying. But Callie's main focus was on her father's condition. "How is he? What happened?"

"Why don't we sit down over there?" Carter suggested, moving both women toward a small alcove area with seats that was empty, and thought he saw Allie give him a smile of thanks at the brief reprieve from answering the questions.

"Allie -"

"His right leg is broken below the knee," she said. "And he's bruised from the airbag - I'll probably have a few of those myself tomorrow - my shoulder's bruised, and they wanted to do an xray, but I said I wanted to make sure Marty was okay first - and to talk to you."

"What happened? I can't believe that in this big city the two of you would have crashed into each other -"

Allie sighed. "We've been doing that for years," she said. "We were in his truck," she said. "Another car pulled out in front of us when we were leaving the restaurant."

"Dad's restaurant?" Callie asked. "Why were you -"

"No. Antonio's," Allie corrected. Antonio's was an upscale restaurant that catered to the late night crowd.

Callie shook her head. "You said you were going out to celebrate your promotion tonight - with your mystery man. Allie -"

Carter rose to his feet when Callie did, taking her arm. "Callie, now isn't the time -"

"Where's Dad?" Callie asked. "I need to talk to my father."

"He's -" Allie began, but Callie turned and left the alcove, heading toward the desks at the far end of the waiting area.

Carter told Allie, "You wait here. I'm going to try to calm her down before she sees Marty."

"He was afraid of this. It's why we didn't tell her - he was worried that she wouldn't understand."

He turned and followed Callie. A nurse was telling her where Marty was, and they both went through to the room where Marty was laying in a bed, a temporary cast on his leg. "Daddy," Callie said, quickly moving across the room to him. "Are you okay?"

"Broke my damned leg," he said. "Got a few bruises, but I'll be okay. Have you seen Allie? She needs to get her shoulder looked at -"

"I'm not worried about Allie right now," Callie told him.

"Allie's in the waiting room," Carter told him. "Once we know you're okay, I'll make sure she gets seen."

"Thank you," Marty told him, giving Callie a look. "I guess she told you that she and I -"

"I don't want to talk about that right now," she insisted. "Nothing matters but that you're going to be okay."

"Callie, honey," Marty said, his tone firm, "I didn't tell you because I knew you'd react this way -"

"We'll discuss it when you're out of here," she told him. "The accident - you hadn't been drinking -?"

"You know me better than that, honey. I don't drink if I'm going to drive. I had - have a bottle of champagne chilling at the house - We were supposed to be celebrating Allie's promotion, after all."

The nurse entered the room. "We have to take him to have a cast put on his leg," she told them. "You can wait in the waiting area and we'll let you know when we put him in a room."

"I'm not staying here overnight," Marty insisted. "Put a cast on the leg and let me go home."

"You can discuss it with the doctor," the nurse said, "*after* we put the cast on."

Allie met them as they came out. "How is he?" she asked.

When Callie didn't answer the question, Carter did. "They took him to get a cast on the leg and they want him to stay the night."

"He won't like that," she said.

"Nope. He wants you to get that shoulder taken care of," Carter told her.

"I will - after I talk to Callie."

But Callie walked away, clearly not inclined to talk to her oldest and best friend, leaving Carter to take her arm and guide her back to the still empty alcove, ignoring her angry glare. "I don't think that this is the place for us to talk about this," she said, pulling away from Carter.

"I don't care. Listen, Callie, I've had a crush on Marty since I was sixteen and he escorted us both to the Father-Daughter Dance. But I was also smart enough to know that he was too old for me at that time, so I moved on. Several times," she admitted, and when Callie didn't respond to her self-depreciating smile, she sighed and continued. "Don't blame your father. When I started pursuing him, he fought it - he insisted that I was like a second daughter to him, that you'd never understand, he found every reason in the book to *not* get involved with me. Do you remember when I offered to help him get the books in order?" Callie nodded, a sharp, jerky movement. "We were alone at the restaurant that Sunday afternoon and I told him that if he could give me one kiss, and not want to kiss me again, I'd drop it and never bring it up again. We did a little more than kiss that day," she admitted. "What I'm trying to say, if you want to blame anyone, blame me."

"He could have said no," Callie told her.

"You know, Callie," Carter said in a quiet tone, "you once told me that Marty dating women your age didn't bother you as long as he was happy. Do you think he's been happy over the last year or so?"

"Or is it that it's me that bothers you?" Allie asked.

"I'm confused," Callie told them. "Dad's in the hospital - you -" she looked at Allie. "You're hurt - and all of this is just - more than I can process right now. Carter, make sure she gets in to see someone about her shoulder, please?"

"I'm going," Allie said. "I already gave them my information - I was just waiting -"

"Come on, Allie," Carter said, taking her uninjured arm. "I have my orders."

"She can be a little bossy, can't she?" She looked at Callie. "Still friends?"

"Of course," Callie told her. As Allie and Carter moved away, she sat back, still trying to wrap her mind around everything that had happened. Between the convoluted case they were handling, and then finding out that her father and best friend had been - involved for at least a year, it was too much.

The doctor ordered something to make Marty go to sleep because of the pain in his leg, and in the end, they had decided to keep Allie as well for much the same reason. Her shoulder had been deeply bruised, and it was extremely painful. So Callie and Carter returned to the Jeep and started home once she had promised her groggy father to contact Maria and to open the place up so they could handle the lunch run, since it wasn't likely that he would be there. She had also agreed to call Allie's boss and let him know where she was and what had happened.

"At least neither of them were seriously injured," Carter said as he drove. "I saw you talking to the police officer -"

She nodded. "The other driver was drunk when he pulled out in front of Dad," she told him. "He barely got a bruise. But that's not usual."

"No, it's not," he agreed, reaching over to take her hand. "How are you doing?"

"I wish I knew." She glanced at him in the dimly lit interior. "You knew, didn’t you?"

"I suspected," he clarified. "I didn't tell you because I figured one of them would, eventually."

"I was a cop for five years," she said. "We're supposed to be trained observers. But it never dawned on me that Allie's mystery man and Dad's secret lady friend were each other."

"You were too close to it," Carter told her.

"Like the forest and the trees?" she asked. "You're probably right. But - we both grew up with him always there. When we were in college, her car broke down, and she called Dad."

"What did she call him?" Carter wondered. "When you were growing up, I mean."

"Mr. Cantwell until we were, oh, I guess he told her to call him Marty while we were in high school. He and her mom had traded driving us to school every day until her mother started working the mornings, and since Dad didn't have to be at work until we were at school, he took over. Even picked us up."

"You didn't notice the crush she said she had?"

"Oh, I noticed it, and I wrote it off - especially since she was Allie. Every guy in our class was fair game - you heard what she told you. And it was worse after we graduated and went to college. I guess that's why I feel a little sorry for Penny Donovan - if Allie had come from a privileged background, she might have ended up as a younger version of Penny. Or so I thought. Turns out, she's been pining for my father all this time."

"So is she right? That if it had been someone else your age, you would have been fine with she and Marty -"

"Maybe. I don't know," Callie sighed, feeling tears of tiredness and uncertainty behind her eyes. She raised her free hand to wipe them away before they could fall. "I'm tired," she said, glad that they were close to the loft.

They entered the loft and Callie drifted toward the bedroom. Carter was right behind her, waiting for her to climb back into the bed before he joined her and pulled her back against him. "I love you," he whispered.

"Love you," came the reply in a soft, shaky tone.

He smiled. It wasn't much, but he'd take it.

Carter made toast and a scrambled egg for breakfast, and took it, along with a fresh cup of coffee - up to the bedroom. "Wake up, love," he said, balancing the tray with one hand as he touched her cheek. "Callie," he said, and she stirred, blinking her eyes.

"What -?"

"Breakfast in bed," he told her, waiting for her to sit up so he could prop some pillows behind her back, and then placed the tray over her legs.

"I need to call -"

"I called the hospital. They're both fine. Marty's threatening a lawsuit if they don't let him out of that dad-blamed place," he quoted. "I also called Maria and Joe, telling them what happened last night - the accident. It's Marty's place to tell them who he was with." She nodded, silently agreeing.

"And Allie's boss?"

"Allie gave me his name and number. So that’s taken care of as well."

"You're too good to be true, you know that?"

"Just being helpful. I figured you needed to get some rest after last night."

"Thank you. Do you know when they might release Dad?"

"I figure around lunch time."

She winced. "I'm supposed to have lunch with Ms. Jamison," she reminded him.

"It's not a problem. We can take our cars to the restaurant and you can let me in and get the safe opened - I'll stay until Maria or Joe or Luca get there. Then I'll come back here and try to find out what I can from my contact at the paper, and go get Marty and Allie when they're released."

"You have everything planned out, don't you?"

"Just wanting to be helpful. If you don’t agree with it -"

"No, I think it's fine," she told him, setting the now empty tray on the bed beside her. "It makes sense, really. I'm still not sure that I'm ready to see either of them yet." When Carter shook his head and sighed, Callie shrugged. "I know I'm probably over-reacting, but -"

"I understand," he assured her, reaching out to touch her cheek. "Now, I figure that if you go take your shower right now, you'll be able to stop at the restaurant and still be at the museum on time to talk to Mr. Linden about the caterers."

Callie slipped out of bed. "Well then I'd better get going. I'd hate to mess up your well laid plans." Her smile told him she was teasing as she gathered her clothes and disappeared down the steps to the bathroom.

"I haven't used this key in forever," Callie told him as she inserted it into the lock on the back door of La Via Roma. "Dad's always here before anyone else." They entered the kitchen area as she continued to talk. "I used to tease him about putting a bed in his office so he could stay here 24/7. He told me that
he couldn't very well bring dates here."

"Where's the safe?" Carter asked, aware that she was most likely thinking that the lack of a bed hadn't stopped Allie from seducing Marty in that office.

She gave him a half-smile. "The office," she said, seeming to square her shoulders as she turned in that direction. "I just hope he did the bookwork before leaving last night. Sometimes he waits and does it in the morning -" she opened a ledger book sitting on the desk. "Good. He did. So all I have to do is the money out and put it into the till in the bar."

"I still don't believe that you operate everything out of the one till," he said, watching as she knelt down to unlock the floor safe in the corner behind the desk.

"It makes sense, if you think about it," turning the knob. "Wow. First time in five years and I got it on the first try," she declared. "We have a code for restaurant and another for the bar to keep the receipts separate. The servers present the bills at the tables, then go into the bar to finish the transaction, returning the receipt to the customer. Less money to keep up with." Carter followed her out to watch as she placed the money into the cash register, then closed it. "Okay, that's it."

"Is there anything I can do to help around here before one of the others arrives?"

"I don't think so," she said, looking around the dining room. "They got the tables set last night - Luca will probably get here before any of the others, and he knows how to open the place up almost as well as Dad does."

"Would anyone object if I make a pot of coffee?" he asked, nodding toward the machine behind the bar, sitting beside the soft drink machine.

"They'd probably be grateful," she told him, turning to put her arms around him. "Come to mention it, so am I."

"You can thank me properly later," he said. "If you've a mind to."

"That sounds like your oh so subtle way of telling me I need to get to the museum," she said.

"I suppose we could always go into the office -" he suggested, just keeping himself from wincing as she pulled away.

"No, that's okay."

As she would have turned from him, Carter pulled her back into his arms and gave her a long kiss. "I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

She nodded. "I really should be going. I'll see you later - at home."

"I'm looking forward to it. Be careful," he told her as he walked her to the Jeep.

"You're sure it wouldn't be better for you to take the Jeep to get Dad?"

"He's wearing a cast, remember? The Jeep's a bit high off the ground for him to get into easily. I think he can manage with my car."

"You really need to get another car," she told him.

"I will, when I find what I want." He gave her a kiss and closed the door, waving as she left the small parking area before going to take his laptop out of the Taurus and carry it into the restaurant. Might as well get some writing done while he waited.

"Caterers? Why are you asking about the caterers?" Derek Linden asked. "We haven't had a catered affair in at least six months. I take that back. Three months. When we purchased the Monet, we had a small gathering to celebrate the acquisition."

"You mean you didn't consult with anyone from the caterers about the Texas Artists showing? We *are* supposed to be auditing all of security measures, and that should include any contractors."

"Of course I consulted -" He drew a deep breath. "We use the same company for all of our catering needs," he told her. "I'll go get the card from my office."

Callie wandered around the still empty gallery while he was gone, making note of the small pieces of paper affixed to each light fixture, with the name of a painting on it. Apparently Mr. Linden had finally decided where to put each of the canvases for the showing.

"Here you go," Mr. Linden said, returning and holding out 2 business cards.

"Cathy's Caterers," Callie read. The second surprised her. "Dallas Cleaning Crew?"

"You don't think that the floors are shiny and there's no dust on fixtures by chance, do you? They handle the cleaning after closing."

"Thank you. I do remember your mentioning the cleaners during our first meeting. I have a few questions about how the paintings were delivered to the museum from their various owners?"

"Kelso's, of course. They have a specially armored van for use in transporting valuable items. They always arrive with new items around the time we open, - I'm sure Mr. Kelso can give you the details."

"I'll speak to him about it," she said.

Linden glanced toward the still open door into the gallery, moving to look into the hallway before coming back to where Callie was standing. "Mrs. Harris, are you at all close to finding that painting?"

"We're close, Mr. Linden," she assured him, knowing that she was lying through her teeth. "Tell me, were you aware that Mateo Almanzo was married?"

"Married?" he repeated, his eyes wide with shock. "No. Are you sure?"

"They were separated, but still legally married when he disappeared into the ocean," she informed him.

"Mateo. Married," he said, shaking his head. "Considering all of his patrons - I would have thought he had no attachments of that nature."

Lunch with Inez Jamison was an eye opener. The young woman was totally different out from behind that French Provencial desk. She preferred modern music, and told Callie that when she wasn't at work, she always wore jeans and tee shirts and sandals.

They had lunch as an Asian-fusion restaurant that Callie had never heard of before that day, and Inez seemed well-known by the staff. "I worked here when I was high school," she confessed.

"Tell me about the people you work with," Callie suggested.

"Oh, I -" Inez hesitated. "I'm not sure that I should -"

"It's my job to find out as much as I can about the museum's security measures, remember? Part of that is gathering information about employees. Such as - oh, Jerome Billings."

"He's a dreamboat. He keeps saying he's too old for me, but I don't care, you know?" Callie nodded in agreement, putting thoughts of Allie and her father aside. "But I keep telling him that I can help him to get ahead at the museum. I see and hear lots of things because most people overlook me."

"Help him get ahead - how?"

"He would love to take over as Director of Special Projects."

"Mr. Linden's job?"

"Yes. And I think he would be perfect for it. When Mr. Linden decides to retire, of course. He's been there - well, forever and been passed over more than once for a move into the main director's job."

"Why do you think that might be?"

"He's so nervous and jumpy. Hiring your agency for one thing - everything's going along as it always does when he suddenly decided that he needed to have a security audit? It makes no sense."

"I'm sure it does to Mr. Linden," Callie pointed out.

"Jerome's convinced something's going on. I don't suppose you can - tell me about, can you?"

"Mr. Linden's a client," Callie told her. "And that means I'm required to keep his confidences."

"I thought you'd say that," Inez nodded. "I gave it a shot, anyway."

"I'll forgive you," Callie told her.

Larry Kelso gave Callie a tour of the armored truck that the agency used for secure transportation. "I even accompanied each painting from starting point to the museum," he informed her, showing her the bench seat along one side of the back of the vehicle. "Sat right there every time for twelve paintings. And after the showing, we'll do it in reverse."

"Do you remember anything unusual happening on any of those trips?" she wanted to know.

"They all went like clock-work - except that Mr. Linden got a phone call right after we arrived with the final painting - that sea-scape with the naked lady."

"Belleza al Amanecer," she said, and he nodded.

"That's the one, I guess. Reminds me of something you'd seen on the wall of an old west saloon, you know? Didn't leave much to the imagination."

Callie ignored the lewd grin on his face as she asked, "What was the phone call about? Do you know?"

"It was his wife, something about her car having been stolen. She was pretty upset from what I could gather from his side of the call. He kept telling her to calm down, and that he would be home as soon as he possibly could to take care of things."

Callie's next stop was to the police department, where she tracked down someone in records to find out if there had been a report about a car being stolen from and Mr. or Mrs. Derek Linden. After getting an answer to her inquiry, she returned to the museum.

After suggesting that they go into the storeroom, Callie studied the paintings again before looking at Mr. Linden. "Why didn't you report the theft of your wife's car to the local police?"

His eyes widened and he nearly dropped the clip board in his hands. "Oh. Oh. Well, we were told not to report it," he said.

"I think that statement needs a bit more of an explanation, Mr. Linden. Who told you not to report it?"

"The - the people who stole it, of course." He sank down into the only chair in the room. "My wife was leaving her hairdresser when she saw a young man at her car. Well, he was Hispanic, and she didn't want to go over to the car alone. But another young man came up to her and told her that they were going to take the car - asking for her key. She was terrified, afraid they might have a gun, so she gave them the key. The man told her to wait until they were gone and then get a cab to take her home, where she was to call me, and then wait. That under no circumstances were we to call the police, because we would never see the car again."

"Is there something - special about the car?"

"It's a Porsche 9-11," he said. "My wife's dream car."

"So she took a cab home and called you here," Callie prompted him to continue.

"As soon as Mr. Kelso and his van left, I let the cleaning crew in and left for home."

"Who lets the crew out?" Callie asked.

"Oh, well. I usually do, but I called Jerome Billings that night, and asked him to take care of it since I was tied up."

"Waiting for the car thieves to call you."

"Exactly."

"And when did he call?"

"Early the next morning. He told me to *sit tight* and wait for him to call again. That I wasn't to go to work until I had the car back in my possession."

"How much did they want to return the car?"

"That was the strange thing," he told her, and Callie shook her head. The entire story was more than a little *strange*. "He didn't ask for any money. I called in to say that I had a private family problem and I would be back in a few days as far as I knew. They called again and told both of us to fly down to Brownsville and the car would be waiting at the airport for us to drive back."

"That would have only taken you a day at the most -"

"Not with the route they insisted we take. The map was in the car - and we were told the car had a tracker on it. That if we deviated from that route, they would find us and we wouldn't make it back home. It took us three days to get home. Austin, San Antonio, El Paso - After that, I had to settle my poor wife's nerves. She was so upset by what had happened -"

"Why didn't you tell me this before now?" Callie wanted to know.

"I was - embarrassed to admit that I'd been so foolish. And I thought all's well that ends well. The car is back, and our only expense was the flight out and the drive back to Dallas."

"And a missing painting at the end of the drive," Callie pointed out.

Derek Linden sighed and nodded. "Yes, you're right."

"I spoke to the supervisor for the cleaning crew that came in that night, and she swears that no one else was the museum while the crew was there," Callie told Carter once she had filled him in on what she had discovered."

"I wouldn't have expected there to be. *If* the painting was switched at the museum, it didn't happen until just before Mr. Linden returned to work."

"If?" she asked. "When was it switched out if not at the museum?"

"Let me get some more information before I answer that," he said. "Aren't you going to ask about your dad and Allie?"

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready. I guess you got them out of the hospital?"

"I did. We stopped on the way to your dad's house to get some things from Allie's apartment. She's going to stay with him and take care of him -"

"With a bad shoulder?" Callie questioned.

"It was his idea. Anyway, Marty wants to you call him when you get a chance. And he'd like for you to go over and clear the register and lock up the restaurant until he gets a walking cast on his leg."

"How long will that be?"

"About a week. Give him a call," he said, pulling her into his arms.

"I will," she told him, "Later."

"The only real information I got from my source," Carter told her, "was the fact that Penny Donovan's parties are the stuff of legend. Most of their neighbors were really hoping that Andrew would get the house in the divorce, if my source can be trusted."

"Can she?"

"It's a he, and yeah, I think he can be. He also told me that the main hold up on the final degree hinges on one *particular* item."

"Let me guess: that painting."

Carter nodded. "Precisely, my love. Penny insists that since she's the woman on the beach, Mateo would want her to have it, and it was bought with community property."

"And Andrew claims that if she wants it that much, she should sell the painting and split the proceeds or buy him out."

"With the current value of the painting, for her to buy his interest would have almost cost her the price of the house."

"It's all so crazy," Callie sighed. An idea suddenly occurred to her. "How about this for an idea?" she said, and Carter turned to look at her, "What if Andrew found a way to change the original for the copy *after* it had been authenticated and before it was sent to the museum?"

"And then he could sell it and keep the entire amount for himself," Carter continued her thought. "It's a possibility," he nodded. "And along the lines of what I've been thinking -" he was cut off as Callie's cellphone began to ring. "That is probably your father."

She grabbed it and grimaced as Carter narrowed his eyes in her direction, and then pressed the button. "Hi, Dad! How are you feeling?"

"Frustrated," Marty growled. "This darn leg is driving me crazy." Callie managed a smile. Marty had always been an active man, and the idea of him not being able to do anything but sit in a chair or lay in bed had to be driving him slowly insane. "I'm seriously thinking about finding a wheelchair so I can at least go to the restaurant."

"Did the doctors tell you that you could do that?" she asked.

"They didn't say that I couldn't. Callie, honey, you know me. I've been at the restaurant every day it's been open for the last twenty years. Even when your mom was so ill, she insisted I go in and work."

"Because you made *her* crazy by hovering," she reminded him. "She knew how much that place means to you."

"And how much she meant to me - how much you both meant to me. I loved your mom."

"I know you did, Dad. And she knew it, too."

"Callie, honey, we do need to talk, and I'd rather do it in person, not over the phone -"

"I'll go by and make sure the money's done and the place is locked, Dad -"

"Thank you. But that's not what I'm talking about, and you know it." She recognized the tone of voice. He'd used it after she had refused to see or talk to anyone after Greg's death. He'd used that tone while standing on the other side of the front door of the apartment that she and Greg had shared. "You can't run away from this. We're going to talk this through and get it sorted out."

"We're working on a case, Dad," she began.

"Carter was able to take a few hours off - this won't take that long. In fact, we could do it this evening - I'll call the restaurant and order some food for all of us - you two can pick it up and bring it over here -"

"Dad, I -"

"Callie, as soon as I hang up this phone, I'm going to make that call. The food will be ready at six. We'll expect the two of you here at six-thirty. Love you."

"Dad -" Callie said, but he had already hung up, and she sighed heavily. "It looks like we're having dinner at Dad's," she told Carter. "We have to pick up the food at six."

"No problem," he told her, watching her. During the call, he had started typing into the computer, but now, he closed the program and came over to the sofa. "Hey. Cheer up."

"I'll try," she said, resting her forehead on his shoulder. "You were about to tell me your theory about why the painting was switched," she reminded him.

"I need to talk to Mrs. Almanzo before I say anything more," he told her. "But whatever the reason, I think that Mr. Linden's car was stolen and he was kept out of town in order to make everyone *think* that it had happened at the museum."

"Well, someone has gone to a lot of trouble to cover it up. If the museum hadn't checked the authenticity for their insurance, no one would have known about the switch." She frowned. "When do you expect to hear about Mrs. Almanzo?"

"Tomorrow, hopefully."

"I think it might be time to talk Mr. Linden into going ahead with the showing," Callie said.

"You're both insane!" their client declared, clearly not troubled that others might hear him. Callie, however, went over to the door of the small gallery and closed it after looking to make sure no one was in the hallway.

Carter raised a hand. "Mr. Linden, please. Hear us out."

"I cannot put that painting on display -"

"Why not?" Callie asked. "None of the guests on the list that you gave me are appraisers. They're owners of the other paintings, and museum supporters and staff -"

"I'd be a nervous wreck!" he declared. "Terrified that at any moment someone would discover the truth -"

"We'll both be here, Mr. Linden," Carter told him. "As your guests." They had shown him the note that had been left on Callie's car. "This could be our only hope to find out who made the switch - and when."

"When? It was during that week," he reminded them. "The week when I was getting my wife's car from Brownsville after it was stolen." Linden looked from one to the other. "Unless - do you think that it happened before it got here? If that's the case, why don't you go talk to the Donovans -"

"It will easier for us to do it this way, Mr. Linden," Callie said, taking his arm. "And you'll be *so* much help to our solving the case if you agree to have the showing as planned."

Carter put his arm across the other man's shoulders. "You might even be called a hero after it's all said and done."

"I can't believe that you convinced him to let the showing take place so easily," Callie said as they drove away from the museum.

"Everyone wants to be a hero," Carter told her. "I'm sure that Mr. Linden sees it as a way to keep young Billings away from his job for another few years, at least. Or maybe as a stepping stone onto the board."

"You didn't see that I was crossing my fingers behind my back, hoping that 'all said and done' finds the painting and how it was stolen."

"I guess I need to drive to the back door to collect the dinner order," he said, nearing La Via Roma.

"It'll be easier than carrying it out through the front door," she confirmed. "Dad was talking about getting a catering truck awhile back, but was afraid the food at the restaurant itself might suffer."

He turned into the back delivery/parking area, backing the Jeep up to the door out of the kitchen. "I'll go in and get it," he offered.

"I'll help. I need to see how things are going. Dad'll want to know. And I'll reassure them that I'll be here to lock the doors at closing."

"I have a feeling that Marty's probably already called ten times today to find out 'how things are going'."

Luca confirmed Carter's statement with a wry grin as he supervised several orders. "Every fifteen minutes, he calls," he told them. "I've started having Maria run a register check just before he's about to call so I can tell him what it says and he won't have to wait."

Callie glanced through the doors out to the dining room. "Looks like you've been busy."

"We have been," he confirmed. "Watch that sauce, Toni," he admonished another cook. "I'd never realized how much your father did - keeping an eye on everyone and everything is exhausting. Make sure you tell him that we'll be glad when he's able to come back."

"So will he," Callie said. "Just think of all the experience you're getting in the meantime, Luca! You'll be ready to go out and open your own place!"

"No, thank you," he said, shaking his head. "More likely I'll need a vacation to recover. Seriously, give him my best -"

"And mine," Toni said, her words echoed by others in the kitchen.

Callie grabbed the last of the meal Marty had ordered. "I'll see you later," she told Luca.

"We can eat out of the styrofoam, Callie," Marty called out when she went to get real plates out of the cabinet. "No reason to mess up dishes that will need to be washed."

Callie left the kitchen and returned to the bedroom. "I can stay and put them into the dishwasher," she told him. "You're the one who's always told me that food never tastes the same on styrofoam as it does on China. And I for one refuse to use plastic forks for veal or pasta."

He sighed, waving her off. "Very well. Use my own words against me. But I'll hold you to the offer to do the dishes!" he called, grinning at Carter, who shook his head and went to help her.

"Does Marty have any trays or -"

"There are some TV trays in the living room," she told him. "And a bed tray - " she paused, nodding toward the kitchen table. "There. I have to wonder how on earth Allie's been getting that tray into the bedroom with one hand."

"Didn't you tell me she worked at the restaurant in high school just like you did?"

"She waited tables - and she learned how to carry a tray loaded with meals with one hand."

"Some things you don't forget how to do," Allie said as she entered the kitchen. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"I don't think so," Callie said abruptly.

Carter went over to the silverware drawer and took out the utensils. "Think you can carry these?" he asked, holding them out toward her.

"I think I can manage," she said, giving him a grateful smile.

"I'll be right in with the TV trays for the three of us to use," he told her, watching her through the doorway. "Callie -"

"Don't," she said, continuing to put the food on plates. "Don't you think you should take those trays in? I'll have this ready soon - and then I'll just need the drinks -"

"Did we get that gallon of sweet tea?" he asked, looking around.

"I put it into the fridge," she told him.

"I'll come and get the drinks after I take the trays in and get them set up."

Mealtime was slightly strained, with Marty telling Callie what he needed her to do at the restaurant. "I won't ask you to place the orders with the vendors, honey, but I'll need Luca to do an inventory of things we need and get it to me no later than Monday morning."

"I'll remind him," she promised. "He can probably bring it over here on Sunday."

"And if you'll take the spare key on the rack in the kitchen to him -"

"I don't mind going over - I have to get the money anyway -"

"Luca can bring it over on his way home. He comes this way, remember? He lives in Pleasant Grove."

"That's where Carter's mom and stepdad lived," Callie said.

Carter nodded. "Pop had a construction company out there," he said. "I really need to stop out there sometime and see how they're doing."

"Carter owns the place, but he's got someone else running it," Callie told them

"I remember you mentioning it," Allie said, finally speaking up. "Didn't you tell Callie that you were an architect when you first met her?"

"I let her think I was an architect because I told her I studied it in college. It *was* my minor," he clarified. He looked around the room. "I'm not sure I've mentioned this, Marty, but I really like this place. Do you have any idea who designed it?"

"Nope. Eileen and I bought it when we got married. Just a standard tract home. I've been thinking about selling it," he confessed. "Maybe get someplace closer to the restaurant - an apartment or a condo -"

Callie looked surprised at his words. "I told you that you needed to sell it when I left for college," she reminded him.

"I wasn't ready then," he told her.

She glanced in Allie's direction. "But now you are." The comment was hard to read. "Is this your doing?" she asked her old friend.

"I haven't given an opinion - even though I have been asked about it. It's Marty's decision, not mine." She shrugged, then winced and lifted her right hand to her left shoulder. "Ouch. I have to remember not to do that."

Marty smiled. "It could be worse," he told her. "You could have broken it."

"Don't even suggest it," Allie replied. "Been there, done that."

"You've broken your arm?" Carter asked.

Callie answered the question. "She broke it when she fell off of a jungle gym at school. We were ten. She was hanging upside down by her knees -"

"Wearing a dress and showing my panties to all the boys," Allie added. "When the teacher saw me, she yelled for me to come down. I did. On my arm. But it was my right arm that day, not my left." She held up her straight right arm. "Mother was *so* angry with me." She grinned. "Especially when she found out the details. And Mrs. Dettweiler was only too happy to share those with her."

"The only thing that bothered you about it was that your mother found out. If you could have kept it from her, you would have been quite pleased with yourself," Callie pointed out. "I have to wonder what she would have had to say about -"

"She would have been furious," Allie agreed. "But you know what, I wish she was still here to *be* furious." Standing up, she grabbed her empty plate. "Excuse me. I'm going to take this to the kitchen."

"Allie -" Marty said, reaching out toward her, but she left the room without another word.

Carter quickly grabbed his plate and Callie's, putting them onto the bed tray, then picked it all up. "I'll go get these into the dishwasher," he said, aware of the strong undercurrents in the room and wanting to get out of the way.

Once alone with her father, Callie got up and wandered over to the photograph of her and her father, taken at her high school graduation. "Callie, honey," Marty said, "Come here." He patted the edge of the bed.

"I can hear you from over here," she told him.

Marty shook his head. "Stubborn. No idea where you got that from," he said with a self-depreciating grin that Callie returned. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, "Very well. I told you last night not to blame Allie. It was as much my fault as it was hers."

"She told me what happened, Dad," Callie said. "That she practically forced herself on -"

"And at any time, I could have said no. But I didn't. I give you my word, honey, until that moment, nothing had ever happened between us. To me, she was simply your best friend, the person who kept you from hiding away at home. I was always grateful for that - she helped you in ways I didn't know how to. But that day in my office, I didn't see a girl who practically grew up in my house. I saw a desirable woman who was asking me to kiss her. I know that probably doesn't make much sense to you, but, it's the truth." When Callie didn't respond to his words, he sighed. "You know, I think what's really bothering you is the fact that we didn't tell you that we were seeing each other."

"It does bother me a little that the two people that I trusted most in the entire world other than Carter kept their relationship a secret from me," she had to admit. "I feel so stupid - I should have guessed that you were her mystery man."

"I wasn't sure how you would react, honey," he said, holding out his hand again. This time, Callie crossed the room and took it, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Allie wanted to tell you, but I wasn't sure. We even stopped seeing each other for a little while because of it. Then she called and apologized, said that she could wait until *I* was ready to tell you. I think she missed me."

"That was the impression I got the other day when we had lunch," Callie told him. She stared at their hands for a moment. "Dad - is, I mean, are you serious about - I mean -"

Marty's laughter made her smile and look at him. "That's something we're still trying to work out. But now that you know, it might be easier to do that. But first, she and I need to get well. I'm taking advantage of that to keep her here instead of letting her go back to her condo." He moved his hand to her wrist. "Callie, you owe Allie an apology about her mother. You, of all people know how it feels to lose your mother - and even though Allie and Louise never got along, she *was* still Allie's Mom."

"I know," she sighed. "And I'll apologize. I shouldn't have mentioned her."

"Well, you had to, once you told that story about how she broke her arm. But you left out the part that I was the one they called before they were able to find Louise."

The soft tap on the door was quickly followed by Carter's head appearing in the doorway. "Just wondering if I needed to find a hat to toss in," he said.

"I don't think that will be necessary," Marty said, "Will it, honey?"

"No. Dishes all done?"

"Yep. And coffee is made - and I have dessert plated up and ready to serve," he told them. "Just making sure you two were ready for it."

Callie stood up. "Do you need some help?"

"Probably. Allie's getting frustrated with me. I refused to let her try to carry four cups of hot coffee on a tray with only one hand."

"Then you shouldn't have left me alone in the kitchen," Allie said, entering the room with the aforementioned tray, which Callie took from her and placed on one of the TV trays. "I did leave the dessert for you to bring in, though."

"Well, allow me to get it," Carter replied, leaving the room.

Callie gave her father his coffee, then took one to Allie, pausing afterward. "Allie, I'm, - sorry for what I said about your mom - I was out of line."

Allie's eyes flickered from Callie to Marty, then back again. "No reason to apologize. I'm fine. Really."

"And -" Callie began as Carter returned with another tray. "Well, I want to tell you that as long as you're happy, and Dad is happy, I'm okay with you two - seeing each other," she finished.

"Seeing each other," Allie repeated with a huge smile. "Is that what we've been doing, Marty"

"Among other things," was his comment as Carter handed him the plate of tiramisu. They all laughed as Callie's cheeks reddened.

"I wish I could give you a hug," Callie told her friend. "But I don't want to hurt your shoulder."

"Just hug my right side," Allie said, standing up to accept the hug. "Now, Carter, I'm ready for some of that scrumptious tiramisu."

"Coming right up," he assured her, placing it and a fork on her TV tray with a flourish. Then he picked up the third plate, but instead of giving it to Callie, he sat down.

"Carter?" Callie questioned, standing over him, her hand on his hips.

"Hmm?"

"What about my dessert?"

"Oh, it's there on the tray," he told her. "And your coffee is -" he began, pointing toward the other TV tray.

"Really?"

Carter laughed softly, handing her the plate in his hand, then taking the fourth one. "There you go, my love."

Callie quickly glanced at her father and then Allie, then studiously ignored their smiles of approval as she sat down to enjoy her dessert.

Callie woke the next morning to the sound of Carter's voice on the telephone. "You're sure of that, Mr. Patel?" he asked. She grabbed the teeshirt from the bottom of the bed and slipped it over her head before leaving the bedroom. Carter gave her a smile as he continued to talk to the artist's agent. "Do they have any idea where she might be?… I see…. Mr. Patel, do you by chance have a photo of Mrs. Almanzo?… Yes. Let me give you my fax number."

Pouring herself a cup of coffee, she brought the pot over to refill Carter's cup as he finished the call. "What did he have to say?" she asked once he hung up.

"The bank wasn't able to reach her because she's away from her home in Matamoros. They did give Mr. Patel her telephone number, and he called to talk to one of her servants, who told him that she had gone on a trip to the north. He's going to send me a photo he has of her and Mateo via fax -" the landline began to ring, and the facsimile machine picked it up. "That should it be it now."

Callie walked over to machine and waited for it to finish printing the black and white photograph of a beautiful young Mexican couple smiling into the camera. "I can see why Penny spent so much time with Mateo," she told Carter as she brought it to him. "He was very handsome. And she's beautiful."

"Mr. Patel told me that they took it for a newspaper article, but Mateo insisted that they reshoot it with only him - that Margarite was too shy to do an interview."

"Hard to believe she was shy as beautiful as she is. I mean, I guess she's probably still a beauty. It's only been fifteen years." Callie frowned. "Why did you want to see a photo? Mateo's probably dead - and Margarite has no reason to come to Dallas."

"Really? You don't think she might want to see her late husband's best-known work?"

"I simply can't believe that I let you talk me into this - this insanity," Mr. Linden told Callie and Carter as they watched Jerome Billings and his fellow workers place each of the paintings on the walls of the gallery.

"Relax, Mr. Linden, Carter said. "Everything will be fine."

As she watched Jerome turn the lamp on over each painting, she moved over to him. "I see you replaced the bulb," she noted, nodding toward the lamp over Almanzo's work.

"The same afternoon that I warned you about it," he nodded, giving her a smile.

"Is the security system armed now?" she wanted to know.

"No," Mr. Linden answered before Jerome could say anything. "I have to arm the system. Once it's done, if any painting is removed from the circuit, the alarm will sound." He indicated the wire attached to the frame. "There's a metal strip around the back of each frame that conducts the signal."

"And how is this different from the paintings in the main gallery?"

"Each of those -" Jerome began, then stopped. "Forgive me, Mr. Linden. It's just that I've spent a lot of time with that system."

"By all means, young man," Linden said. "Do continue."

"As I was saying, each of those spaces are set up to an individual circuit. If someone were to remove a painting in there, the alarm would go off with each painting with a code of what painting was gone. In here, the system isn't as detailed, since it's a much smaller space."

"Thank you, Jerome," Linden said, basically dismissing the younger man. "Once all of the paintings are in place, you and the crew can go."

"Yes, *sir*, Mr. Linden," was Jerome's reply as he turned back to help with hanging the last canvas and frame, an arid West Texas landscape.

"Impertinent young man," Linden sighed as Jerome and the others left the gallery. "How he thinks he can possibly do my job I have no idea."

Callie exchanged a swift smile with Carter at the comment before Carter asked, "And how do you arm the system?"

Linden smiled and took a key from his vest pocket, carrying it over the light switch beside the door. One side held the usual switches for the overhead lighting. The other was covered and he opened it to reveal a slot which fit the key. Putting the key into the hole, he turned it, removed the key, and closed it once again. "Now it's armed." He flipped the switches, turning the overhead fixtures, leaving only the lamps over the paintings to illuminate the room. "There will be flowers delivered on Monday," he told them. "And we'll place them around the room, but the focus will be these glorious paintings - and one fake. Oh, I don't know that I can do this, Mrs. Harris."

"Buck up, Mr. Linden," Carter said. "Just think about the accolades you'll get for helping us resolve this," he continued, putting his arm around Linden's shoulders. "I can see it now - Derek Linden, newest member of the Board of Directors."

"Oh. Do you really? Oh my, oh my," he sighed dreamily. "I'll do my best," he assured them.

"I knew we could count on you, Mr. Linden," Callie told him. "Now, if you need us before Monday, you have the number. We'll be here early -"

"The showing begins promptly at six p.m.," he said. "And it's black tie."

"You'll be surprised how well she cleans up," Carter said, winking at Mr. Linden, who managed to chuckle, clearly unsure that either of them knew what the term meant. "We'll see you on Monday, if not before."

After spending most of Sunday helping Marty and Allie, Carter and Callie went back to the loft. "Do we need to call and rent a tux for you to wear tomorrow evening?" Callie asked.

"And what makes you think that I don't already have one?" he asked.

"I haven't seen it in your closet," she told him.

"It's with the books in storage. I've attended a few award ceremonies over the years. And some of them were black-tie. I had it dry-cleaned and stored it in an airtight bag, so it should be good to go. I'll get it tomorrow morning."

"What if it needs cleaned again?"

"That won't be a problem. There are several places around here that offer same day service." He studied her for a moment. "You almost sound as though you're not sure that I can wear a tux."

"I never - I never considered it one way or the other. All I did was ask a question about renting one. It makes sense now that you would own one - I hadn't thought about how your being a journalist would make it necessary." She smiled and kissed him. "I'm looking forward to seeing you all decked out."

Dressed to the nines, with Callie wearing a jade green floor length evening dress and Carter dressed in the tux, they arrived at the museum at 5:30 so they could observe the other arrivals. While Carter circulated around the main gallery and hallway, Callie remained close to Mr. Linden as he greeted the guests. Most were simply names that she had seen in the newpaper or on local television.

But when the vice-president in charge of art procurement arrived, he wasn't alone. The woman with him was an attractive woman of Hispanic origin, wearing a simple black long sheath. He introduced her to Mr. Linden as an 'old friend' - with no name given.

As the couple moved toward the gallery area, Callie asked Mr. Linden, "Do you know who the woman with Mr. Duval is?"

"No. I've never seen her before. I'm wondering where the Donovans might be. They know that we have to begin at six, and it's six right now."

"I'm sure they'll be here any moment, Mr. Linden," she assured him. No doubt Penny was simply waiting until everyone was there so that she could make an entrance. "If you'll excuse me, I need to speak to Mr. Jankowski."

"Of course," he replied, looking out of the glass doors as though willing the final guests to make their arrival.

Callie entered the hallway, moving to join Carter at the closed door into the gallery. "What's the hold up?" he asked.

"He's waiting on the Donovans," she told him, pulling him away from the crowd while looking for Mr. Duval and his plus one. "I need you to tell me if I'm right about something -" she nodded subtly toward the woman in the black sheath. "Who does she look like?"

Carter took a drink of the sparkling water that he'd asked a waiter for while he studied the woman. "Well, if you add a few lines and some gray hair, she looks like Margarite -"

Callie nodded. "That's what I thought. He didn't give her name when they came in -" Both of their attention was caught by the arrival of the last pair of guests. While every other woman had opted for a floor length gown - Penny Donovan had gone a totally different route.

The dark-haired woman was wearing a bright red dress that revealed far more than it covered. The strapless dress began low across her breasts and ended well above her knees. Even from the back of the hallway, Callie could see Andrew's frustration at his wife's determination to be the center of attention.

She certainly was the object of whispers and lecherous grins as Mr. Linden came down the hallway with the other guests behind him. Taking the key from his pocket, he turned to face the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming to this opening of the Carrington's celebration of Texas artists. The twelve canvases in the room behind me were chosen from many wonderful works. And now -" he unlocked the door with a flourish, and opened it, revealing that overhead lighting was off - leaving the paintings on the wall illuminated only by the lamps above them. It was only after all of the guests were inside the gallery that he turned up the overhead lights, but not to full power.

"There's my painting," Penny declared into the quiet murmurs, breaking the spell. She went to the painting. "I never tire of looking at it."

"Keep your eyes on Mr. Duval's friend," Carter told Callie in a quiet whisper. "She's not at all impressed with Penny Donovan, I think."

"I'll be glad when this showing is over and it's back where it belongs," Penny was telling someone, and Callie saw a smirk on the other woman's face that was quickly replaced by a bored expression.

"You're right," Callie replied. "And she's amused by something."

"Penny's antics, possibly?" Carter suggested as Penny posed beside the painting for the museum photographer.

"She moves the wrong way, he's going to be taking x-rated photos," Callie muttered, and Carter chuckled softly.

His laughter faded. "Andrew and possible Margarite just exchanged a look," he told her.

"A look?"

Carter nodded, looking from Andrew to Margarite and then to the painting. "I think I know what's going on," he told her. "I'm just not sure how to prove it."

"Explain to me again why we're following Andrew and not Margarite?" Callie asked as she followed Andrew's Lincoln Town Car back toward Highland Park.

"Because I don't think the transfer has taken place yet. At some point, he'll have to meet up with Margarite or her agent before she leaves for Matamoros."

"Transfer?" Callie asked. "Transfer of what?"

"Think about it, Callie."

"Not the painting. Why would Andrew Donovan give that painting to Margarite Almanzo?"

"Maybe he's not giving it to her. Maybe he's selling it to her. Think about it. He switches the original with a fake just before it's moved to the museum, never realizing that the museum will have it re-appraised and discover the switch. We know he wants to sell the thing - it's public record that the painting is the main point of contention in the divorce. So what if he's decided to sell it back to Margarite and make some cash under the table with Penny none the wiser?"

"And what if she has it appraised again at some point?"

Carter shrugged. "By then, it won't matter. He'll give up all claim to the painting and the divorce will be final, and it will be up to *her* to prove he was in any way responsible."

"Oooh, that's good," she said as Andrew's car turned into the mansion's gates. She drove down the road and turned around, parking far enough back from the gate so not to be noticed, turning off the lights. "Keep an eye out for city patrol. They don't usually like cars parking this way."

"I doubt we'll have to wait very long for him to come back out," Carter said. "He wasn't very happy with the way she was acting at the museum. I figure he'll make his apologies and leave to get to his meeting."

"*If* there's a meeting," she told him. "I'm still not convinced -"

"He's coming back out," Carter interrupted.

Callie let the dark car pull onto the road and get far enough away before pulling onto the road and turning on the headlights to follow. "I'm still not convinced that he's going to go anywhere but his apartment."

"We'll see when he gets to Inwood. If he's going to the apartment, he'll make a left hand turn. If he goes any other direction-" When Andrew drove straight through the intersection, Carter smiled. "He's not going home."

"So where *is* he going?" Callie wondered. "We're close to Love Field - I wonder if Mr. Duval has a private plane?"

Carter pulled out his cellphone and dialed a number. "Mr. Linden, Carter Jankowski - Yes, sir … apparently we did get away with it… Yes, sir. The reason I'm calling - do you happen to know if Mr. Duval has a private airplane? … And where does he keep it, do you -… Thank you. No, we're still working it… We will… Goodnight." He hung up. "He does have a private jet and Mr. Linden said that he mentioned having to go to the airport after the reception this evening. He keeps it in the private aviation area at Love. It's Gulfstream."

"He just made the turn toward the airport," Callie said, still following Andrew.

"That's where he's going, then. Do you know where the private aircraft -"

She nodded. "Yeah. And I might be able to get us in there if I'm lucky." She smiled. "I worked part time as airport security before my promotion. Got to know most of the guys who work out here. If any of them are on duty tonight -"

"I'll cross my fingers," he told her as Andrew made the turn toward the private aircraft storage area. "He's going to see you," he warned her.

"Just keep an eye on him," she said, rolling down the window and turning off the headlights again as she got to the security booth. "Hello, Charlie!" she said. "How's it going?"

"Well, if it isn't Callie - Harris, right? Been awhile!" Charlie said, glancing at Carter, who was focused on the disappearing taillights of the Town Car.

"I really need to get in here, Charlie," she told him. "We're trying to make a flight out on a friend's plane - he said we could use it at the last minute -"

"Who's plane?" he asked.

"Mitch Duval," she told him.

"Then you getter get out there. That guy that just came in said he was going there as well. Wish Mr. D would let us know when he's invited people to use his plane -"

"Thanks, Charlie," Callie said, the Jeep already rolling as he kept talking. "Which way did he go?" she asked Carter.

"Around that first hangar," he told her.

Callie headed in that direction, watching for the car and moving aircraft. As they neared the first hangar, she saw that the next one was open, and an aircraft was sitting on the apron. She pulled the Jeep up beside the first hangar and told Carter. "We'll walk from here. No sense in warning them that we're coming." She told him to go around the hanger and come up on the other side, and she would wait for him to get there.

"Don't start without me," he told her.

"Never," was her quiet reply. She watched him move into the darkness and leaned against the side of the hangar, peeking out every now and then to get the lay of the land.

The aircraft was sitting half inside of the hangar, with the door and steps open. Andrew's Lincoln was parked beside it, and when Callie peered around the corner, she saw he was holding a tube like those that blueprints were transported it.

"I want to see it," Margarite was saying, clearing determined to do just that.

"You don't trust me?"

"After all of these years, do you blame me? Ever since Mateo was forced to sell the painting to that harridian -"

"She's still my wife," Andrew reminded her.

"You would do well to be rid of her, señor," she told him. "She is a -"

Callie saw Carter appear on the far side of the hangar and shook her head, signaling that it wasn't time yet.

"I will see the painting before we take off," Margarite insisted again.

"Very well," Andrew sighed, opening the tube and pulling what appeared to be a blueprint from inside.

"What is this? You said -"

"It's inside the blueprint," Andrew informed her, unrolling the blue paper to reveal a roll of what looked like canvas, which he unrolled for them to both look at. "See?"

"I'll take that," Callie said, moving from the edge of the hangar as Carter did the same.

"What is going on here?" Margarite asked, but Andrew was already rolling the canvas up again.

"She's a private detective," he told the other woman. "Mrs. Harris, right? Where's your friend?"

"Right behind you," Carter said, having closed the distance easily, and now grabbed the canvas.

"That's my property!" Andrew told him.

"And it's supposed to be at the Carrington Museum, as you agreed -"

"As my *wife* agreed," Andrew growled. "I never wanted it shown. But Penny -"

"It's mine!" Margarite declared at last, clearly upset by things not going according to her plans. "Mateo never wanted to sell it - he promised me that no one else would ever see it. But that - that *woman*, she threatened to tell everyone who the woman in the painting really was unless - unless Mateo agreed to sell the painting to *her* and her husband."

"Penny claims that she's the woman on the beach," Carter pointed out.

"Basta!" she cried. "How could she be, when she was on that boat in the painting? No one can be in two places at the same time!"

"Penny was watching the beach that morning from the red and white sailboat with red sails?" Callie clarified.

"Yes! After she became his patron, she told him that she knew who the woman was and told him she would go to the papers and - and everyone would know."

"It was you, wasn't it?" Callie asked in a quiet voice, and Margarite nodded.

"The only reason I agreed to pose for him was because I loved him so much. But I did not want my family in Mexico to know what I had done. Even though Mateo was my husband, they would have been horrified at the idea that I done such a thing."

"Mateo was okay with the painting being in Penny's hands -"

"In my hands," Andrew clarified. "He knew that I had no desire for it to be shown in public because Penny had told so many of our friends that she was the woman."

"And now you're returning the original to Margarite?" Carter asked.

"Margarite contacted me through Mr. Duval and asked if I would be willing to sell the painting back to her. Once I discovered the truth, that Mateo had told her that he wanted her to have the painting, I had no choice but to agree. So I had a copy made, and managed the switch when I knew Penny was out of the house just before they picked the painting up to move it to the museum."

"And when the switch was discovered? What did you think would happen?" Carter wanted to know.

"I knew that Penny had the painting appraised several months ago, so I was sure she wouldn't have it done again for awhile. By then, any number of things could have explained the fact that it wasn't the original."

"Let me guess," Callie said, "You were going to drop your insistence on selling the painting and give her the divorce that she wants."

"Actually, I'm still hoping she'll come to her senses and decide that she doesn't want a divorce, Mrs. Harris. For all her faults, I still love Penny. That painting has had a very detrimental effect on her, ever since she first saw it -"

"Where was that?" Callie asked.

"What?" Andrew asked.

"Apparently Mateo never showed the painting after it was finished out of respect for his wife's modesty. So when did Penny see it?"

"In his studio," Margarite told them. "The first time she went to see him to offer to support his desire to become a famous artist."

"Do either of you really think it's fair to Mr. Linden and the museum to let him show a fake instead of the real painting?" Carter asked the two of them.

"So he did find out it was a fake," Andrew said. "That explains why you two were called in."

"You didn't know?" Callie asked, frowning.

"No. I guess I thought, since he had the certificate from our appraiser, that he wouldn't bother -"

"It was a requirement for their insurance," Callie told him. "But the appraisal was delayed for a week when someone stole his wife's car and got him away from the gallery. Neither of you know anything about that?" she asked. Both Andrew and Margarite shook their heads.

"No, they don't," Another voice answered, as Penny and Jerome Billings appeared around the side of the hangar. Billings had a gun in his hand. Penny smiled, extending her hand. "I'll take the painting, if you please," she told Carter.

As he placed it into her hand, she reached up and touched his cheek. "A pity. We would have had such a good time, I think."

"How did you find out?" Andrew asked.

Penny laughed. "You've never been able to surprise me, Andy," she purred. "The servants told me that you'd been at the house while I was gone that night, and had spent time in the gallery. I called Jerome and asked him to come over and look at the painting."

Callie shook her head. "You have hidden depths, Jerome," she said. "I had no idea that you were able to appraise paintings in addition to your other talents."

"Oh, he has many other - *talents*," Penny said, slipping her free arm through his.

"What happens now?" Carter wanted to know, giving Callie a look.

"Well, Jerome and I are going to make use of Mr. Duval's lovely airplane. The rest of you - well, unfortunately, won't be joining us.

"You are a witch!" Margarite cried out, lunging at Penny. "I should have scratched your eyes out years ago!"

"Jerome!" Penny yelled as she struggled to fight off the determined woman and keep the roll of canvas.

The distraction gave Callie and Carter a chance to pull out their own weapons. "Drop the gun, Jerome!" Callie said. The gun clattered to the floor while Carter kept his gun on Penny.

"Andrew, would mind separating the two - ladies, please? And retrieving the painting?" he added as Andrew grabbed Penny around the waist and pulled her away from Margarite's sharp, blood-red fingernails, pulling the painting away at the same time.

"I'll take it, please," Carter told him, holding out his hand. He took it from Andrew, stepping back to join Callie.

"That painting belongs to *me*," Margarite insisted, still glaring at Penny, who had pushed her way out of her husband's clutches. "Mateo only sold it to -her - because of her threats. He had promised me that he would never sell it -"

"Everyone will believe that I'm the woman in the painting if you'll let me have it," Penny told her.

"No! It's my beloved's greatest work - it belongs to me."

"Look," Callie said, getting tired of the arguments. "I don't really care who owns the painting. The fact is that an agreement was made for it to be shown by the Carrington Museum for the next month - and that contract will be honored. Now, this is what's going to happen. Where's the pilot for this aircraft?" she asked.

"He's already in the cockpit," Andrew told her, filing his flight plan and getting things ready for take off."

"Very well. I'm sorry, Mrs. Almanzo, but I have no choice - All four of you are going to get onto that plane and once it takes off, we'll return the painting to Mr. Linden at the museum to put on display as agreed. During that time, I suggest that you all figure out who the owner is so that Mr. Linden can return it."

"I refuse to leave without the painting!" Margarite declared. "And I refuse to share the aircraft with - with *her*!" she said, pointing at Penny.

"It's big enough that I think you can stay away from each other. And by the time you reach Matamoros, you might even find out that you're ready to talk. Now, let's go."

Margarite turned with an angry flounce and went up the steps. "Now you, Andrew," Carter said. Andrew glanced at Penny. "She'll be right behind you," Carter assured him.

"Only if you carry me up that gangway," Penny stated, clearly not ready to accept her defeat.

"I can-" Andrew started to say, but Penny rolled her eyes.

"Don't bother. You don't know how to lift a pencil anymore, much less a woman."

"You think so?" he asked, turning around and coming back to lift her into his arms and carry her toward the airplane. "Now shut up." After her initial shock, Penny slid her arms around her husband's neck and smiled as she moved close enough to whisper something into his ear.

"Looks like you're out of luck, Jerome," Callie said to the other man. "You're next."

"What about my gun?" he asked her.

"We'll leave it at the museum," she told him. "I'm sure you'll be able to pick it up when you go back for your last paycheck."

"You're going to tell Mr. Linden about all this, aren't you?"

"I think it's only fair that he know the full story, don't you?" She waved her gun toward the aircraft. "Go on. Once you're up there, get the hatch closed and tell the pilot that you're ready for take off."

Callie and Carter both watched as the Jerome entered the aircraft, then found the mechanism to close the doorway. They waited until the hatch closed, and moved back as the two powerful jet engines began to spin up.

"Now?" Carter asked, and Callie nodded.

"Now."

They put their weapons away and turned toward the side of the hangar, heading toward the Jeep as the plane began to move away and onto the apron. Carter, still holding the canvas, turned away as the jet wash swept across the area.

"Do you really think they'll take off?" he asked Callie.

"I doubt it. As soon as they can, I'm sure that either Penny or Margarite will tell the pilot that they're not leaving after all," she told him as they got into the car. Starting the engine, she said, "I figure we have about ten minutes before the plane gets back to the hangar and they get into Andrew's car to follow us."

"I'll call Mr. Linden and make sure that he's at the museum to meet us," Carter said.

"This is the actual painting?" Derek Linden asked as he studied the canvas. "You're sure?"

"It was verified as such by Jerome Billings," Callie told him. Seeing his doubtful look, she sighed. "It would seem Mr. Billings has hidden talents. But I don't think you have any reason to worry about him taking your position. He knew that the painting had been switched with a forgery and never said a word to anyone about it."

"Well, except for Mrs. Donovan," Carter clarified.

"Mrs. Donovan? She knew about -?"

"So did Mr. Donovan," Callie confirmed.

"I don't understand."

"It's a long, complicated story, Mr. Linden. Just be glad that you have the original painting back. If I were you, I'd get it put into a frame and into the display gallery before tomorrow."

"Do they know it's here?" he asked.

"Yes," Callie confirmed. "You have the painting for the duration of the contract with them to show it. After that, it's a toss up as to where it will end up. But that won't be your problem."

"Oh," Carter said, pulling Jerome's gun from his jacket pocket. "I told Jerome that I'd leave this here for him to collect when he gets back."

"And if I were you, I'd lock that painting into the storage room -"

"Oh, I shall do just that," he promised her. "Please, send me your bill tomorrow morning and I'll see that it's paid. Even if you were a day late in finding the painting."

"We won't charge you for today, then," Callie told him. "If you think that's fair."

"At the moment, I don't care," he said, looking at the painting again. "I'll get this into the storeroom, and come in early tomorrow to get it into a frame. Thank you both for your help. You have no idea how much it means to me."

Carter tapped the canvas. "Storeroom. Now, Mr. Linden. We're not sure how far the bad guys might be behind us."

"Oh. Oh, of course." He took out his keys and unlocked the door, entering the room. Placing the canvas flat on a table, and the gun alongside it, he came back out and locked the door. "There. All safe and secure."

"You do realize that you'll have to tell your superiors about the painting being switched if you're going to tell them about Mr. Billings' involvement," Callie said.

"What *was* his involvement, exactly?" Mr. Linden wanted to know. "You haven't really explained what happened."

"Well, if we're going to be out of here before someone else gets here, we don't really have time to go into it," Carter said. "But I can tell you that Jerome got caught between the Donovans and Margarite Almanzo, and his fingers caught in the cookie-jar, so to speak."

"So he was - somehow involved in - oh my goodness."

"Go home, Mr. Linden," Callie told him. "And remember to set the building alarm when you leave. It won't stop Jerome from getting in, but there'll be a record with the security company."

Outside, Callie and Carter watched from the shadows as Andrew's limo and a low slung red Ferrari pulled into the parking lot seconds after Mr. Linden's car lights disappeared into traffic. "If we're lucky," Callie muttered, "security will be here soon to make their rounds and find them all in the museum."

"Jerome works here, remember?" Carter pointed out.

Callie pulled her cellphone out and found a number. "Larry? Callie Harris, can you get your guards over to the Carrington for a check?"

"Sure. Why? Something going on?"

"A soon to be ex-employee is about to access the building in an attempt to steal a painting."

"Who?"

"Jerome Billings," she said. "And I'd hurry, because they're about to enter the security code."

"Consider it done," he told her. "But I do expect a full report from you about this."

"See you tomorrow," she replied. "And thanks." She looked at Carter. "He's calling his security officer to get him over here ASAP."

"They must have been around the corner," Carter told her, pointing to the security vehicle that entered the alley and parked behind the museum. "I would love to be a fly on the wall to hear the conversation taking place in there."

"I'm sure Jerome is insisting that as an employee he has every right to be inside the museum after hours - and the guards will agree - but not with the other three non-employees."

"At which point Andrew and Penny will tell the guards who they are, but none of them will be able to explain the reason for their being here. They're coming out."

They watched as the guards locked the back door and had Jerome reset the system. Andrew took Penny's arm, but she shook it off to get into the Ferrari and roar out of the parking lot - alone. Andrew spoke to Margarite, probably offering to see her back to a hotel - or maybe the airport, leaving Jerome alone in the alley. He stood there, watching the black Lincoln pull away before going over to a white Chevy and leaving as well.

"We have company," Carter told Callie as one of the guards approached the Jeep.

Callie rolled the drivers window down as the guard shone his flashlight into the vehicle. "Mrs. Harris?" he asked.

"Yes. I suppose Mr. Kelso told you that we had called."

"Yes, ma'am. He told me that you'd probably be here. They're gone, as you can see."

"Thank you."

"What's to stop them from trying again later?" Carter asked.

The guard grinned, holding up a key. "Because I had the young man give me his key to the building," he told them. "I'll give it to Mr. Kelso and he'll see that it gets back to the museum tomorrow. Thanks for the heads up. Still don't quite understand what those four were up to, but they didn't get whatever they came for. They were standing in the hallway outside of a locke storeroom when we entered."

"Thank you for getting here so quickly."

Another grin. "We were on our way when the boss called. Have a good night - what's left of it," he pointed out, backing away from the Jeep.

Callie kicked her high heels off the second they entered the loft. "I should start keeping a pair of flats in the Jeep for things like this," she said, smiling when she saw Carter pick up the discarded shoes. She turned to put her arms around him. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle living with someone as messy as I am?" she asked.

"Messy? You? I hadn't noticed," he told her.

"I leave shoes and clothes wherever they are when I take them off," she told him. "I usually go back and pick them up later, but -"

"But now you have me to do that for you," he reminded her. "I think I can handle it," he told her, giving her a kiss. "Now, how about the two of us go upstairs and get some sleep? Do you realize that it's almost four a.m.?"

"Bed sounds wonderful about now," she sighed. "Chasing down bad guys is tiring," she said, turning around. "Unzip me?" she asked. Once done, she stepped out of the dress and left it in a pool on the floor as she drifted toward the stairs, leaving him to pick it up before following her.

The End