Now, with the addition of the painting Zeke was picking up this morning, there would be three Remington Peters portraits of Belinda in her Warrenstown roles. Also already hanging on the wall at the Ambrose Gallery were various landscapes of the Berkshires that Remington would allow to be sold.
Pulling up to the carriage house, Zeke parked, got out, and went to the back of the car. He opened the rear hatch and lifted out the box containing the batting he would carefully wrap around the portrait before transporting it to the gallery. He carried the box to the front door, putting it down to knock.
No answer.
Zeke knocked again, then a third time. He walked around to the back of the carriage house, cupped his hands against the large window, and tried to see inside. He couldn’t detect any movement. A large canvas stood on the easel, but it was positioned so the painted image Zeke was so anxious to see was obscured from view.
He went back around to the front and was about to get into the station wagon when he saw Remington walking up the driveway.
“Hello,” Zeke called. “I was afraid you were standing me up.”
As Remington approached, Zeke could see his shoulders were slumped and his mouth was turned down. When the two men shook hands, Zeke could feel grit on Remington’s.
“What have you been doing? Gardening?” asked the gallery owner as he looked at the dirt on Remington’s hands and clothes.
Remington brushed at his pants. “No. I just went for a walk in the woods.”
“Oh. Well, let’s get to it, man,” said Zeke, his face brightening. “Let’s go look at the portrait.” He turned toward the front door.
“Zeke, wait.”
“What is it?”
“I can’t give you the portrait.”
Zeke looked at Remington. “What do you mean?”
“It’s not ready.”
“You’re too hard on yourself, Remington. I’m sure it’s glorious.”
“It’s not. Believe me, it’s not.”
“Please, Remington, let’s go look at it. Let me give you my opinion.”
Remington looked down at the ground and spoke softly. “I respect your opinion, Zeke, you know that. But I just can’t let anyone, not even you, see this portrait yet.”
C H A P T E R
35
Another check of the computer revealed there was still no answer from Brightlights999.
With an e-mail address like that, odds were that the person Amy had tried to contact in the last minutes of her life was a female. But whoever it was could bring a lot of unwanted attention if he or she went to the authorities with the image captured by Amy’s cell phone.
It had been pure luck that Amy and Tommy had been smoking weed just before they were forced off the road. With the autopsy reports showing marijuana in their systems, the police had been able to close the case.
But there was no way the police were going to think the death of the nosy librarian was an accident. It would be painfully obvious that the piercing of her wrinkled throat had been deliberate.
Law enforcement was going to be all over a murder case in charming little Warrenstown. And if Brightlights went to the cops with the digital picture of the car that Amy had sent just before she died, that could cause a suspicious detective to come knocking on the door.
Come on, Brightlights, respond to my message. I need to know who you are.
C H A P T E R
36
Victoria puttered around the kitchen, taking a bowl from the cupboard and some eggs and milk from the refrigerator. She cracked the eggs against the side of the bowl and emptied the contents into the milk she had already poured. After adding a bit of vanilla extract, she whisked everything together and dipped a couple of slices of sourdough bread into the mixture.
While she was waiting for the French toast to cook on the griddle, she washed and sliced some strawberries. Halving two oranges, Victoria thought of Daniel as she juiced them. It had always been their custom to have large breakfasts on the mornings their plays opened.
The usual coffee and cigarettes wouldn’t do today. This was the day that Devil in the Details would finally be performed for the public. This was the day she’d been waiting for, ever since Daniel died.
Everyone had said that she wouldn’t be able to go on without him, and Victoria understood why. Daniel had been an established, successful playwright even before they married. She had been a virtual nobody. When she’d begged Daniel to give cowriting a try, everyone had just assumed that he was the one who was really doing the work. And Victoria had to admit to herself that everyone had assumed correctly. It was only after Daniel’s death that she’d actually come into her own. Now a Pulitzer Prize might actually be within her grasp.
Finding the syrup in the cabinet over the refrigerator, Victoria poured some of the thick, sticky liquid into a small pitcher and zapped it in the microwave. Cold syrup wouldn’t do on her nice, warm French toast. Nothing but the best this morning, nothing but the best to begin this wonderful day.
Victoria closed her eyes as she chewed on the first bite, thinking it was good to let Belinda sleep as late as possible. Belinda had to be refreshed in order to give Valerie the energy she deserved on the stage and on the videotape for the Pulitzer committee.
C H A P T E R
37
Meg led the way through the rest of their theater tour. She showed her father, Caroline, and the crew the storage area under the stage, filled with crates of wires and scenery flats; she showed them the hydraulic lift that raised and lowered a portion of the stage; she pointed four stories up to the catwalk and explained how three chandeliers rose and fell from that height for three scenes in Devil in the Details.
Caroline was impressed, and she said so. “It’s wonderful how you know your way around this theater, Meg.”
The compliment was answered with a shrug. Caroline looked at Nick for his reaction to his daughter’s response, but if he had noticed, he wasn’t showing it. He was beaming at Meg. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart,” he said as he put his arm around Meg and squeezed her closer.
“I’ve got to change tapes,” said Lamar as he checked his camera.
“We’ve already got enough,” said Caroline. “You guys can take a break, and we’ll meet back here after lunch for the interview with Keith Fallows.”
Caroline, Nick, and Meg left the crew as they packed up their paraphernalia. As she usually did when she was with father and daughter, Caroline found herself feeling like an outsider. “You know what? I think I’m going to leave the two of you alone for a while so I can get caught up with work,” she said.
Meg’s face brightened, while Nick looked at Caroline with a quizzical expression. Caroline noticed, though, that he didn’t try to dissuade her. She was beginning to walk away when a young man approached Meg.
“Did you hear?” he asked. “Somebody was murdered at the town library.”
C H A P T E R
38
The sandwiches at Oscar’s Deli had names like “Julia Roberts,” “Hilary Swank,” “Halle Berry,” and “Charlize Theron.” Only Academy Award winners had the honor of having their names written, along with the lists of ingredients in their sandwiches, on the giant chalkboard that covered most of the deli wall.
Caroline stood in line and studied the menu. She was tempted by the “Tom Hanks”—corned beef, Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, and Russian dressing—and the “Angelina Jolie”—sautéed peppers and onions, mushrooms, melted provolone, sprouts, and tomato. But by the time it was her turn to order, Caroline had decided it might be bad luck not to order the “Belinda Winthrop”—turkey, Swiss, lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise, and cranberry sauce on rye.
“You on vacation?” the man behind the counter asked as he slathered mayonnaise on the bread.
“Actually, I’m working,” said Caroline. “But it’s a nice assignment.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a film and theater critic.”
“Oh, yeah? Fo
r a newspaper?”
“No, television.”
The man looked up from making the sandwich and studied Caroline’s face. She could tell he didn’t recognize her.
“What show would I see you on?” he asked as he went back to covering the mayonnaise with sliced turkey.
“KEY to America,” she said.
“That explains it,” said the man. “I never watch television in the morning. I have to get in here early to set up. But my wife watches it. I’m gonna tell her you were in. She’ll get a real kick out of that. What’s your name?”
“Caroline Enright.”
“Hello, Caroline Enright. I’m Oscar Dubinsky. I’d shake your hand, but…” Oscar held up his hands, which were covered by thin plastic gloves.
“Don’t worry about it,” said Caroline.
“So, you’re gonna review Devil in the Details when it opens tonight?” Oscar asked.
“That’s the plan,” said Caroline, eager now to get her sandwich and leave.
“This your first time in Warrenstown?”
“Yes.”
“Too bad you have to come when all this upset is going on. Warrenstown is usually such a nice, quiet place. But between those kids killed last weekend and the cops finding the librarian murdered this morning, I don’t know what our town is coming to.”
“I just heard about that,” said Caroline. “What a horrible
thing.”
“Yeah. One of our officers was just in for lunch, and he told me he never saw so much blood. Her carotid artery was completely severed.” Oscar finished wrapping the sandwich and handed it across the counter. “Poor Theresa.”
C H A P T E R
39
It hadn’t been smart to cancel the interview with KEY News yesterday, thought Keith as he entered the theater. He needed all the positive press he could get, and it did no good to alienate Caroline Enright. He was determined to be much more agreeable today.
Caroline and her crew were waiting for him on the stage.
“You told me to pick the place for the interview,” she said, “and I pick this.”
She was right, thought Keith. Having them up on the set was much more visually interesting than just sitting out in the audience. He tried to be patient as the rotund soundman wired him. He waited as the video guy checked his white balance and made the necessary adjustments. He smiled as Caroline asked him her questions. He answered, mustering up all the charm he could. After fifteen minutes, Keith had had enough, but Caroline wasn’t finished.
“Tell me about your plans for this play,” she said.
“At this point, Caroline, I just want to get through opening night.”
She persevered. “Of course, but if Devil in the Details is the success everyone expects it to be tonight, what would you like to see happen next?”
“Well, I’d like to see it please audiences for the two-week run here in Warrenstown, and after that I have little doubt that it will go on to Broadway.”
“With you as director?”
“Perhaps.”
“What about a screen version?” “What about it?”
“Would you want to try your hand at directing the film version of Devil in the Details?”
“That’s an interesting thought.”
“And surely not the first time you’ve considered it,” said Caroline.
Keith smiled a tight smile. He wasn’t going to embarrass himself before a national audience by announcing he would direct his first film without knowing for certain that he had his ducks all in a row. Without Belinda in the lead, Keith’s ducks were scattered. He was putting all his hopes on the performance tonight. If Belinda triumphed as Valerie, then surely he could bring her around to star in what could be another Academy Award-winning role for her.
“As I said, Caroline, at this point, I just want to get through tonight.”
C H A P T E R
40
Driving home from Pittsfield, Gus smirked. It was so easy to placate his overworked, underpaid parole officer. As long as he showed up when he was supposed to, passed his drug test, demonstrated he was still holding down his job, and pretended to be a good little Boy Scout, he got a pass until the next time. No one came out to Curtains Up to check on him—not that they would necessarily discover anything even if they did. His cave was far from easy to find.
The caterer’s white truck was parked at the side of the farmhouse when Gus arrived. Trays of food were being stowed in the kitchen, and crates of glassware were being carried out to the patio, where the bar was being set up. Low glass containers filled with red, yellow, and pink snapdragons sat on scarlet tablecloths spread on the round tables. Tiny red pitchforks poked out from the top of each flower arrangement.
Gus went into the kitchen, picked a deviled egg from a tray, and popped it into his mouth, ignoring the disapproving look from the caterer. Yep, he had a pretty cushy gig here, Gus thought as he eyed the devil’s food cake. A good thing that could keep on going indefinitely as long as Belinda didn’t stick her pretty little nose where it didn’t belong.
C H A P T E R
41
Belinda sat in front of the makeup mirror applying her lipstick when Meg came into the dressing room carrying a glass vase filled with two dozen long-stemmed roses.
“Red. He never forgets,” said Belinda as she inhaled the fragrance of the flowers.
Meg wished Belinda would volunteer who he was, but she wasn’t about to ask what the leading lady might think was too personal a question. If she wanted Meg to know, Belinda would tell her.
On went the corset and the petticoat and the green velvet gown. As Meg zipped up the dress, there was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” called Belinda.
Langley stuck her head inside. “I just wanted to say, ‘break a leg.’”
“Thanks, Langley,” said Belinda.
“Oooo, you got flowers.” Langley walked straight over to the dressing table. “They’re beautiful. Who sent them?” “A friend,” said Belinda.
“The friend must be crazy about you,” said Langley. “Who is it?”
Meg was embarrassed by the understudy’s rudeness. But Belinda, smooth as ever, simply ignored Langley’s question.
“Get me my fan, please, will you, Meg?” Belinda asked.
Meg obeyed. “You look beautiful, Belinda,” she said.
“Thank you, dear. And thank you for all your help.” With that, Belinda departed for the stage, leaving Meg and Langley in the dressing room.
Langley picked up the small card Belinda had left beside the flowers. “Twenty years and you grow ever more beautiful, Belinda. Valerie is very lucky tonight,” Langley read aloud. “Yours forever, Remington.”
C H A P T E R
42
As the curtain lowered, the audience erupted in thunderous applause.
“Magnificent.” Nick leaned over and yelled in Caroline’s ear as the cast of Devil in the Details came out to take their bows. The last actor out was Belinda Winthrop, and the audience came to their feet and cheered.
Watching Belinda take her bows, Caroline was already mentally composing the review she would write, knowing that she had just witnessed a rare production. Brilliant, inspired, breathtaking—those were some of the words she wanted to include in describing not only Belinda’s performance but also the content of the play. Victoria Sterling’s creation deserved the Pulitzer Prize. How she had envisioned, and executed, the scenes leading to the unmasking of the sociopathic husband was amazing. Caroline couldn’t help but feel that only someone who had firsthand knowledge of sociopathy could have handled the subject so expertly.
What was the old saw? Write what you know.
Refused permission to record the play, Lamar and Boomer waited in the lobby.
“I hope that dub they’re giving Caroline will be of decent quality,” muttered Lamar.
“Hey, it’s not your problem, man,” said Boomer as he munched on the giant oatmeal cookie he had purchased at the ref
reshment cart. “If they wouldn’t let us shoot, they wouldn’t let us shoot. There’s nothing we can do about it.”
“Yeah, but I hate depending on video shot by the audiovisual department of the Warrenstown Summer Playhouse. Who knows who’s manning the camera! It could be some college kid.”
The doors to the theater opened, and the audience started streaming into the lobby. Lamar studied the expressions on the theatergoers’ faces. “Looks like it was a hit,” he said.
Boomer grunted as he popped the last of the cookie into his mouth.
Lamar spotted Caroline and her husband. He waved to get their attention.
“Good, huh?” he asked.
“Fabulous,” Caroline answered. “I’ll tell you all about it later, but now let’s get right downstairs to Belinda Winthrop’s dressing room.”
Nick let go of Caroline’s hand. “I’ll see you later then?” he asked.
Caroline took his hand again. “Oh no, you’re coming with us. Don’t you want to see Belinda?”
“Hurry up and wait,” muttered Boomer as the KEY News group stood outside the dressing room door. Twenty minutes passed as Keith Fallows and Victoria Sterling each went in for a visit with the star. Finally, the dressing room door opened.
“Belinda can see you now.” Meg beckoned them inside.
Belinda rose from her dressing table chair to greet the group.
“Nick McGregor! How wonderful to see you,” Belinda said as she hugged him. “It’s been too long.”
“You were just terrific tonight, Belinda,” said Nick, flashing his bright smile. “But I’m not going to stay. I know you have this interview to do, but I should also tell you how glad I am that Meg has had the experience of working with you.”
Lights Out Tonight Page 8