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“Here, near the approach. It gave the performer enough light to see people coming in.”

Her fingertip stayed on the page.

I could picture the side opening as we’d found it Friday, with the folded panels beside it and the lantern tucked close to them. It hadn’t simply been moved out of the way. On the old plan, that spot had a purpose.

Sybil brought the current sheet closer. She followed the difference between the two entrances, then stopped with one hand on each page.

“That’s where it was when we found it,” she said.

I leaned farther over the table to compare them. Last year’s guest approach ended beside the same opening. This year, the low shelf and the lantern belonged across the room, where people entered before turning left along the railing.

“One placement could still be a coincidence,” I said. “Show me the figure.”

Sybil shifted the papers until the relevant passages lined up. On the current plan, she traced the staff crossing behind the scenery on the right.

“This is where we were standing. The figure should have swung toward the recess on the other side, stopping behind the guest railing.”

“And last season?”

She returned to the older page. This time she followed the guest route all the way through the structure, moving slowly enough for me to see where it passed the old approach and turned.

Her finger stopped over the space now used by staff.

“Guests came through here.”

I moved closer to her side of the table. The passage hadn’t simply led somewhere different last season. It had carried a different group of people past the effect.

“Which way did the figure swing then?” I asked.

“Toward that route. We changed its orientation when I redesigned the room.”

She drew her finger from the old effect position toward the passage. It followed the direction the figure had taken Friday night, when it should have stayed clear of the staff crossing.

I looked at the two pages without speaking. Behind us, the radio chargers hummed, and somebody pushed a cart past the workroom door. Sybil kept the papers flat beneath her hands.

“The lantern was moved toward last year’s approach,” she said. “And the figure swung toward last year’s guest passage.”

“Both in the same structure.”

She straightened, then bent to check the plans once more.

“I managed this version all last October. I stood at that entrance and watched the groups come through.” Her fingertip returned to the old passage. “That angle would have made sense then. It doesn’t now.”

The paper had started to curl where the edge of the folder pressed against it. I moved the folder aside and held the corner flat. I wanted to keep looking at both versions without losing the alignment.

“Who knew this arrangement well enough to remember it?”

“Clinton, Troy, Grant. Returning maintenance, some of the performers and reset crew. Rick knows the layout, although he wasn’t operating effects.”

She said the names while studying the old plan rather than watching for my reaction to any one of them.

“Grant was responsible for effects and safety,” I said.

“Yes. But Troy worked here last year too, and Clinton was running operations. They all knew where the guests went.” She looked at me. “Firing Grant doesn’t make him the answer.”

“I’m not treating it that way. We need to know who used that knowledge, not just who had it.”

Sybil reached for the pen beside her binder. I pulled Saturday’s working sheet closer, separating it from the two plans we’d been comparing.