“Well, thank you, Dr. Gonzalez. You’ve given us a lot to think about. But it’s unnerving, to say the least, to think that someone who’s living as a seemingly normal member of the community or someone we think we’re close to could, in reality, be a sociopath. Someone who can do anything at all and feel absolutely no guilt.”
As the broadcast went to commercial, Caroline watched Margo Gonzalez take off her microphone and lean over to say something to Constance. The cohost barely looked up from her notes for the next segment, making no effort at congeniality.
Caroline found herself feeling sympathetic toward Margo. It was hard to be the new kid at school, and KTA could be a rough playground.
C H A P T E R
6
As he untangled the rubber hose he had left strewn on the ground, Gus Oberon muttered to himself. A blue Mercedes convertible was sitting on the crushed stone driveway as it had every morning for the last three weeks, reminding him that Belinda Winthrop was on the property. He liked it much better when he had Curtains Up to himself. Luckily, Belinda had called to say she was coming up, giving Gus the chance to move out of the main house and back into his small apartment over the garage.
It was bad enough Belinda let that weird artist stay in the old carriage house year-round. But Remington Peters was harmless enough. The guy operated in his own little world—hardly venturing out during the day except to go into town to buy groceries or pick up his mail. And Gus had observed that lights out usually came early for Remington. He wasn’t a threat, but Belinda was. She was too sharp for her own good.
The caretaker sprayed the pink coneflowers that grew along the base of the sprawling gray farmhouse. Thank goodness Belinda’s busy schedule meant she had been coming up less and less frequently. She hadn’t set her pedicured feet on the property since last summer, allowing him to really beef up his business over the past year. Without Belinda’s prying eyes, Gus had the run of her 150-acre Berkshire estate. The forest, the swamp, the meadow, the streams, and the spring-fed pond.
At the south end of the property, the small streams disappeared into a series of underground channels and caves carved over the millennia through the limestone bedrock. Gus had spent hours exploring those caves, and now he was putting them to productive use.
He turned the hose to the white geraniums planted in the window boxes, resenting this maintenance work. Every minute he spent pulling weeds and planting flowers and clipping shrubs and mowing grass and painting trim and sweeping dust and polishing floors and repairing fences and attending to all the other tasks required to keep up this place was time away from his far more lucrative pursuits. But keeping his job as the caretaker of Curtains Up was essential to his expanding business. He needed continued access to this property.
Squinting as the morning sun stung his eyes, Gus cupped his hand over his brow and looked up at the windows of Belinda’s bedroom. The shades were still drawn, and he was sure they would stay that way for at least another hour. Those theater people went to bed late and got up even later. The longer Belinda stayed in bed, the better he liked it. When she finally did get up, he’d be anxious for her to drive over to the Playhouse again and take that playwright friend of hers with her.
Gus walked down the driveway and looked out over the meadow. Black-eyed Susans, oxeye daisies, yellow and orange hawkweed, and red clover decorated the acres of open land surrounded by pine trees, pin oaks, and giant maples. Belinda has a gorgeous piece of property here, thought Gus as he watched a monarch butterfly land on a daisy bush. This place sure was a far cry from the halfway house he’d lived in just before Belinda hired him. And Curtains Up was even farther from the penitentiary where he’d done three years for criminal possession of marijuana before that.
C H A P T E R
7
After their confrontation yesterday, the absolute last thing Caroline wanted to do was talk to Linus Nazareth this morning, but she was going to make one last stab at getting a producer assigned to come to Warrenstown with her. She waited fifteen minutes after KEY to America went off the air for the morning, giving Linus time to get to his office from the KTA control room. She knocked on his open door.
The executive producer beckoned her inside. “Quite a review this morning, Caroline. Does Belinda Winthrop have you on her payroll or something?”
Caroline tried to take the remark with good humor. “Funny, Linus. That’s funny.”
“I’m only half joking, kiddo,” said Linus, sitting behind his messy desk. “I always thought that last guy we had on the entertainment beat was in the studios’ pocket. I wouldn’t be surprised to hear he took kickbacks to pay for that coke habit of
his.”
Caroline wasn’t about to get into a character assassination of her predecessor, but she was going to stand up for herself. “Look, Linus,” she said. “Belinda Winthrop was terrific in the film. I’ll give you the DVD, and you can see for yourself.”
“Don’t get all defensive on me, Caroline,” said Linus, picking up the football he kept on his desk. “But see what I mean? You could have been more provocative, more controversial. That review was a real valentine.”
“You’re paying me for my opinion, Linus. That’s what I thought of the movie. It was good, very good. I’m supposed to say otherwise, just to be controversial?”
Linus frowned. “All I know is, I found the review too vanilla. There was nothing memorable about it. Look at the reviewers on the other nets. They get in some real zingers.”
Caroline’s hands clenched in the pockets of her skirt. “I’ll try to spice things up next time, Linus, but there’s only so much I’m comfortable doing,” she said as she turned to walk out of the office. She didn’t trust herself to continue the conversation. Yesterday’s hurt was turning to anger.
“Hey, wait a minute,” Linus called as she got to the doorway. “What did you come in to see me for?”
Go for it, she thought. “How about reconsidering and giving me a producer for this Warrenstown shoot?”
“Why would I want to do that?” Linus tossed the football in the air and caught it.
“Because it would contribute to a better story.”
The executive producer leaned back in his chair, and the buttons on his blue Oxford shirt strained against his stomach. “I would hope you’d be able to handle this assignment yourself, Caroline. You can tell the crew what to shoot and set up your own interviews, can’t you?”
“Of course I can, Linus. But you know as well as I do that having a producer along will make things a lot easier. There’s more to doing this story than making some appointments and figuring out shooting locations. In fact, I can get two, possibly three, stories out of this trip,” she said, knowing that prospect would appeal to the ever-budget-conscious executive producer. “One on the Warrenstown Summer Playhouse, another on this new play that has all this Pulitzer buzz. Devil in the Details is being staged for the first time, and it will probably go on to Broadway and then to the movies. I’ve made arrangements to interview Belinda Winthrop about the play, and depending on what she says on tape, there might be enough to form the basis for a profile piece as well.”
Linus put the football down and leaned forward, close enough for her to notice the pockmarks on his cheeks. “Look, Caroline. You haven’t been in TV a long time, and you want the security of having someone along to support you, but I’m short on producers right now. It’s summer. Some are on vacation, and the others are all assigned. I don’t have anyone to send with you.”
Caroline wondered if Linus was deliberately trying to shake her confidence by suggesting she wasn’t a seasoned broadcasting veteran or if he had merely stated the blunt truth. Either way, the executive producer had effectively shut down further argument. If she kept lobbying for a producer, it could look like she wasn’t confident in her ability to pull off this assignment.
As Caroline walked away from Linus’s office, she was confused. If he thought she was such a neophyte, why was he letting her go to Warr
enstown with no editorial backup? Did he actually have more confidence in her than she thought? Or did he really want her to fail so he could get rid of her?
C H A P T E R
8
The light was beautiful at this time of day as it streamed in through the huge picture window. Remington sighed as he looked out over the colorful meadow to the dark green mountains beyond. He loved the view from this old carriage house that Belinda had converted into a studio and loft guest quarters for him.
Remington still couldn’t quite get over Belinda’s generosity, though he expected guilt and pity might have had a little something to do with it. Why else would she have let him live here for the three years since the fire destroyed his studio in town? Belinda had never asked him how long he would be staying or even hinted that she wanted him to go. Remington was a dear and longtime friend, she said, and her place was his place.
Friend. That word was the kiss of death when you loved someone the way he loved Belinda. Remington knew with utter certainty that Belinda had no such romantic feeling for him. She had told him as much all those years ago, when they had both spent their first summer at the Playhouse—she, an extraordinarily talented young actress; he, a fledgling set designer. At summer’s end, he’d poured out his heart to her. And, in return, she’d broken it.
Twenty years later, both of them had risen to prominence in their fields. The world knew well the path to glory of Belinda Winthrop. The award-winning movies she had starred in, the Broadway plays in which she’d had top billing. The tabloids had provided a steady stream of pictures over the years, documenting every change in hairstyle, every love affair. Remington had been hurt by each one. Finally, he’d stopped reading them, stopped watching television, where she would all too often appear, tracked down by shows like Entertainment Tonight and The Insider. Remington had even canceled his subscriptions to The New York Times and the Berkshire Eagle, never knowing when an article or picture of Belinda was going to turn up and upset him.
His spirit wounded by Belinda’s rejection but enchanted by the serene, natural beauty of the Berkshires, Remington had decided to stay and pursue his painting after that first summer in Warrenstown. His first portrait of Belinda, done the winter after they parted, showed her in the role she had played that summer, the fiery Katharina in The Taming of the Shrew. The Ambrose Gallery had displayed it, though it wasn’t for sale. Nor were any of the others he had painted over the years. Remington kept them for himself.
Standing before the large easel, he studied the nearly finished canvas he had been working on for so many months. He didn’t need Belinda to sit for this portrait. He knew exactly how she looked now, just as he had known how she’d looked every one of the twenty years she had been coming to the Playhouse. He knew how her green eyes sparkled, how her full lips smiled, how one of her bottom teeth was just a bit crooked. He’d memorized the contours of her cheekbones and the straight line of her nose. He had studied her graceful neck and been jealous that it was only his painter’s brush that had the chance to trace that neck down to Belinda’s beautiful shoulders.
Remington pulled a white-bristled brush from a large wooden canister. No, he didn’t need Belinda to sit for the portrait, but he did need to see her costumes for the play. Only then would he be able to do an accurate portrayal of her in her latest role. Only then would he be able to finish the latest in the Belinda Winthrop series.
C H A P T E R
9
Caroline was trying to straighten up her office desk before she left for Warrenstown when the telephone rang.
“Caroline? This is Margo Gonzalez.”
“Hi, Margo,” she said, a bit surprised. “How are you?”
“I was wondering if you could have a cup of coffee with me.”
Caroline glanced at her watch. “I’m leaving for Massachusetts in half an hour. If you think that’s enough time, I can meet you in the cafeteria.”
By the time Caroline took the elevator downstairs and followed the subterranean hallway that led to Station Break, Margo was waiting for her. They settled into one of the booths.
“Bet you didn’t think you’d be hearing from me so soon,” Margo said as she stirred the coffee in her Styrofoam cup. “Be careful about offering help to strangers.”
Caroline smiled. There was something about Margo she liked right away. “Not at all. I’m glad you called. I remember when I started here. I didn’t know a soul. It’s stressful starting a new job, but I think trying to get a feel for all the unfamiliar people is the hardest part.”
“That’s why I called you, Caroline. I got the impression you’d be receptive to a novice just trying to get the lay of the land. How long have you been with KEY News anyway?”
“About six months.”
“Like it?”
Caroline cocked her head to the side as she considered the question for a moment. “Well, it’s different.”
“Good answer,” said Margo. “I’ve read your syndicated movie reviews for years and, when I’ve gone to see the films, found them to be pretty much on the money. But I’ll bet writing for print is a lot different from writing for television.”
Caroline nodded. “And the writing isn’t the half of it. When I worked at the newspapers, I went to see the movie, I wrote the review. Period, the end. I didn’t have to worry a whit about what I was going to wear or how my hair looked. The newspaper editors critiqued my reviews—not whether I was animated enough or needed more lipstick. Truth be told, I’m still not sure if this is the right fit for me. I’m hoping it will get easier in time.”
“Well, it’s good to hear that I’m not the only one who feels off balance,” said Margo. She took a sip of her coffee. “If I were one of my own patients, I’d tell myself to relax and go with the flow, that I could be secure in knowing I have the professional credentials to handle this job. But, honestly, I had no idea how close the scrutiny would be. I can sense the eyes watching me.”
Caroline laughed. “Try millions of eyes. But the ones that count the most are Linus Nazareth’s. If you have him on your side, you’ve got it licked.”
“And you’ve won Linus over, Caroline?”
“Hardly. He’s really been on my case lately, but I guess the fact that I’m still on the show should mean something. Linus is great at keeping you on your guard. There hasn’t been a day I’ve come to work that I’ve felt totally secure.”
“And what about Constance Young?” asked Margo. “Is she always as friendly as she was today?”
“I noticed,” said Caroline. “You can’t take it personally if Constance ignores you. That’s the way she is these days.”
“These days?” Margo looked directly into Caroline’s eyes.
Caroline nodded. “Yes. I gather she used to be a really nice person, but I haven’t seen any of that since I’ve been here.”
The talk turned to who was the most talented makeup artist and the best with hair. Caroline shared the name of the women’s clothing shop on Fifty-seventh Street that, as far as she was concerned, carried the perfect suits for television. “Even my stepdaughter likes them.”
“How old is she?” asked Margo.
“Twenty.”
“How’s that—?” Margo began to ask the question and then stopped.
“How’s that going?” Caroline finished the sentence.
“Forgive me, Caroline. I’m so used to asking those types of questions, it just popped out.”
“That’s all right, Margo. I could actually use a sounding board.” Caroline looked at the clock on the wall above the condiments counter. “Unfortunately, I don’t have time now to go into detail, but let’s just say Meg resents me, big-time, and last night I found some pot and rolling papers in her room. Now the question is, what do I do about it?”
C H A P T E R
10
After exercise class, Meg walked back across campus, stopping at the theater to check the apprentices’ bulletin board. Among the listings for guest speakers, daily schedules,
and cabaret rehearsals, there was an announcement of a memorial service on Saturday afternoon for the two apprentices killed in the car accident. Anyone who wanted to speak at the service or help plan it was welcome.
Meg added her name to the sign-up sheet. As she walked back to her dorm, she thought about what she wanted to do for the memorial. Meg knew she had been Amy’s closest friend at Warrenstown. They had liked each other right away, and in the six weeks they’d known each other, they’d found that they had much in common. Meg wanted to do something special for Amy. As for Tommy, Meg didn’t know him that well, but Amy’s happiness about her new boyfriend had been obvious.
Back in her room, Meg went straight to her desk and turned on her laptop. She reopened the first of the pictures Amy had sent her Sunday morning. Someone had taken a picture of Amy and Tommy standing in front of the Mt. Greylock visitors’ center. The two of them were smiling, their arms around each other, oblivious to the fact that it was the last day of their lives.
Meg clicked to the next picture, sent just ten minutes after the first. It showed Tommy, baring his teeth in a mock snarl, standing beside a glass case. Meg zoomed in on the case and could see that Tommy was mimicking the expression on the stuffed bobcat on display. She recognized it from the time she had visited the center a few weeks ago. It had been fascinating to learn about the various indigenous creatures that inhabited the area.
It was over an hour before Amy had sent the next two pictures. This time, Tommy had taken them of her. In the first, Amy was sitting on top of a rock wall that surrounded a pond. In the second, she was smiling at a butterfly that had alighted on her arm. Fifteen minutes later, Amy had e-mailed a picture of a deer.
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