While Nick went down to the bar for a drink, Caroline dressed in an off-the-shoulder blouse, the gauzy, black peasant skirt she’d purchased on Main Street, and a pair of black sandals. As she adjusted the neckline of the blouse, she remembered she wanted to pin her hair up the way Nick liked it.
Caroline was determined to have her last night with Nick be a special one. He was leaving in the morning, and she wasn’t sure when he would be coming home again. She wanted both of them to enjoy themselves tonight and separate in the morning wanting more.
“You look great,” Nick said when she appeared at the bar. He leaned over and kissed her. “Want a drink?”
“How about a glass of pinot grigio?”
When Caroline’s wine came, Nick raised his glass. “To you, Sunshine.”
“To us, Nick.”
They gently touched glasses.
“Mmm. That tastes good,” said Caroline. “It’s been a long day.”
As they drank, Caroline told Nick about her trip to Curtains Up with Annabelle. “That caretaker of Belinda’s gives me the creeps,” she said. “There’s something sinister about him.”
“I know, you said that this morning. Do you really think he could have something to do with Belinda’s disappearance?”
Caroline took another sip of white wine as she considered the question. “I don’t know. But let me ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Was Gus at Belinda’s party two years ago?”
Nick grabbed some nuts from the bowl on the bar. “Yeah, as a matter of fact he was there. I remember being introduced to him. Belinda had just hired him, I think.” He popped a couple of nuts in his mouth. “What? You’re trying to tie him to Daniel Sterling’s death, too?”
Caroline looked at her husband. “We don’t know that Belinda is dead, Nick.”
“I wasn’t saying that she is, Caroline. I was asking if you were trying to tie Gus Oberon to Sterling’s death as well as Belinda’s disappearance.”
That’s not the way it came across, thought Caroline.
The Ambrose Gallery held a nice-size crowd assembled for the unveiling of Remington Peters’s latest portrait of Belinda Winthrop. As she and Nick walked around the room, Caroline heard snippets of conversation.
“What a disappointment. We came all this way and the portrait we most wanted to see isn’t even here.”
“It isn’t fair that they advertised something they couldn’t deliver. I’m surprised at the Ambroses. I expected more from them.”
“Did you hear that Belinda Winthrop is missing?”
“Yes. When I went to pick up our tickets at the Playhouse box office, they said her understudy will be playing the role of Valerie tonight.”
Caroline was standing opposite the wall with the empty space when Jean Ambrose approached her.
Caroline gave her a rueful smile. “I’m sorry Remington didn’t come through for you,” she said.
Jean glanced around the room. “You and everyone else here.”
“Your husband couldn’t convince him, huh?”
“No,” said Jean, and she leaned in a little closer. “But it might be for the best. Zeke saw the painting. He said it was unrealistic and disturbing. Belinda had a maniacal look on her face, almost as if she were mentally ill.”
“That doesn’t sound like a description of the way Belinda looked as Valerie last night,” Caroline said.
“I know it doesn’t,” said Jean. “Zeke and I are afraid that Remington might be losing it.”
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Hidden by the curtain, Keith peeked out from the side of the stage. The house was filling up nicely. Every seat for tonight’s performance was reserved. In fact, the entire run of the play was sold out.
All these people had expected to see Belinda Winthrop when they bought their tickets, Keith thought as he looked out at the audience. Most important, one of the potential backers for the movie version of Devil in the Details was sitting out there tonight. Wanting to get a better idea of what his money would be financing, he’d come all the way from Los Angeles to watch Belinda play Valerie. Instead, the backer was going to be seeing Langley Tate in the role.
Everything was unraveling. All the months of planning and working and cajoling to make Devil in the Details Keith Fallows’s debut as a film director were coming to naught because Belinda Winthrop had failed him. It was all Belinda’s fault. How dare she pull out on him?
Keith spun away from the curtain. Maybe all wasn’t lost, he thought. Maybe Langley would give such a stunning performance that he could sell the idea of an ingenue in the role. It was a long shot, Keith knew, but stranger things had happened, hadn’t they?
Keith’s momentary optimism sank as he remembered the afternoon rehearsal. Langley had been a disappointment. When one had seen Belinda in the role, Langley’s ability seemed so limited. The director had to admit to himself that he hadn’t helped matters by criticizing his new leading lady when he should have been building her up.
He should have controlled his temper with Langley, just as he should have controlled his fits of anger with Belinda. If he had done that, he wouldn’t be in the position he was in right now. Keith knew his temper was his weak spot, but he rationalized that, as a creative artist, it was his right, even his obligation, to feel things passionately. Let the rest of the plodders in the world play by their silly social rules. He operated by his own.
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“Aren’t you going to the theater?” Gus asked.
“Maybe later,” said Victoria as she poured him another drink. “I don’t have to see every performance now that the blocking is set.”
“I’d think you’d want to see that understudy,” said Gus, remembering Langley’s perfect body. He’d like to watch her onstage himself. But even more than wanting to watch Langley, Gus wanted Victoria to leave so he could get out to the woods and move the cartons from the cave.
He studied the lines in Victoria’s face. This was the oldest woman he’d ever been with, and she wasn’t half bad in the sack. Still, she wasn’t, by a long shot, his dream girl. But Victoria was Belinda’s friend, and he knew he’d better suck up if he wanted to stay on the property. He needed to take care of things.
“I’d rather be here with you,” said Victoria. She leaned over and kissed him.
It was clear what this middle-aged dame wanted, and he would have to give it to her yet again just to get rid of her, just to buy time to do what he needed to do.
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The announcement was made to the audience via the sound system.
“Good evening, and welcome to the Warrenstown Summer Playhouse. Tonight, the role of Valerie will be played by Langley Tate.”
A low rumble of disappointment rippled through the auditorium.
“There will be one fifteen-minute intermission. Please make sure cell phones are turned off and refrain from taking pictures or using other electronic devices. Enjoy your evening, and thank you for supporting live theater.”
When the curtains parted and Langley appeared onstage, the applause was polite but not enthusiastic.
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The candle burning in the middle of the table cast Caroline’s face in a warm glow.
“You are beautiful, Sunshine.”
“Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m glad you see me that way, Nick.”
“Anyone would see you that way. You’re lovely, Sunshine, inside and out.”
“Your daughter doesn’t think so.”
“Caroline, will you please stop worrying about what Meg thinks? You’re my wife and I love you and that’s all there is to it. Meg has to get used to our marriage. Besides, I think she seems like she’s doing quite well up here, don’t you?”
Caroline considered her response. She still hadn’t told Nick about the marijuana she’d found in Meg’s closet at home. Her main concern was why Meg felt the need to smoke
pot. If she were Meg’s real mother, Caroline knew for certain that she would be discussing the subject with Nick. But she was in a difficult spot. If she told Nick, Caroline suspected Meg might not ever get over what she would consider a betrayal.
“I think Meg is complicated, Nick. She’s been through a lot, and it takes a long time to heal when you lose your mother. I guess you never get over it completely.”
Nick leaned forward, reached across the table, and took Caroline’s hand. “I know it’s hard for Meg. But she has to get on with it. Maggie is dead. There’s no changing that.”
“Well, I don’t think it’s helped Meg that her friend was killed this week. Honestly, sweetheart, I think that’s set her back.”
Nick dropped her hand and sat back in his chair. “I hate that Meg had to know loss so early, Caroline,” he said. “It’s too bad she had to learn that—is having to learn that—at such a young age. But there’s no getting around it. We all lose people who are important in our lives. That’s painful, but not fatal, for those left behind. She’ll survive.”
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Finally, it was growing dark.
Remington stepped away from the window, walked across the studio, and opened the front door. He looked down the hill. Lights were on in the farmhouse, but he couldn’t see anyone outside.
He picked up the first wrapped portrait and loaded it into the back of his station wagon. Then he returned and repeated the process eight more times. At that point, there wasn’t room for any more.
Remington realized he had calculated correctly. He’d have to make only two trips to move the seventeen paintings from the carriage house to the storage facility. But he was so tense at the thought that he might not have enough time to finish everything he had to get done tonight, he forgot to lock the front door before he drove away.
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The applause at intermission was surprisingly strong.
Langley let out a deep breath as she walked off the stage. Keith was waiting for her in the wings. “Marvelous, Langley. Marvelous,” he said, hugging her.
Langley stood rigidly and accepted the director’s praise, but she hadn’t forgotten his venom during the rehearsal.
Meg was excited when Langley arrived in the dressing room. “I was watching on the monitor,” she said. “You were great, Langley.”
“Thanks, honey,” Langley said, rushing by Meg. “Help me change quickly, will you? I want to have some time to go over my lines for the next act.”
“You want me to run them with you?” Meg asked eagerly, knowing the copy of the script that Belinda had given her was still in her tote bag.
“Yeah, that would be perfect,” said Langley.
Meg helped Langley dress in the green velvet ball gown. She pulled bobby pins from her apron pocket to secure tendrils of hair that had fallen from Langley’s upsweep.
“Okay, we have about five minutes before I have to be back onstage,” said Langley. “Let’s go over that final scene. Let’s start with, ‘I know the scariest thing …’”
“All right,” said Meg. She pulled the script out of her bag, cleared her throat, and began. “I know the scariest thing is lying in bed with someone who has sold her soul to the devil.”
“No, Meg. You’ve got it mixed up. You’re reading my lines, Valerie’s lines. You’re supposed to be reading Davis’s.”
Meg closed her eyes, hating herself. She had to stop smoking that weed. The pot was making her dumber by the day.
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Meg had secured excellent cabaret tickets for her father and stepmother. Caroline and Nick arrived early, taking their seats at the reserved bistro table.
“This is nice,” said Caroline. “We’re right up front.”
“How about something to drink?” asked Nick.
“Just a ginger ale, please,” said Caroline. “I’ve already had enough wine for the night.”
“You got it,” said Nick.
Caroline watched her husband maneuver his way through the jumble of tables to the bar at the side of the room. She helped herself to a chocolate Kiss from the handful that had been sprinkled on their table. Then she leaned back and considered her surroundings.
She sat in what had once been a church, but all the pews had been removed and a stage stood where she supposed the altar had once been. The choir loft had been extended, forming a balcony that surrounded three sides of the room. From that elevated position, theatrical lights were trained on the stage. The room was very warm, despite the opened windows and the cool night air outside, and the smell of beer and spilled wine permeated the atmosphere.
“Here you go, sweetheart.” Nick deposited her soft drink and his beer on the table as a man and woman sat at a table beside them.
“John Massey?” Nick said, leaning forward.
The man smiled, rose from his chair, and leaned over to shake hands. “Nick, my man, great to see you. This is Megan, my wife.”
Nick introduced Caroline. “I didn’t know you were a Warrenstown fan, John,” he said. “Do you come often?”
“We’ve been here a few times. It’s a nice break from L.A. You?”
“Yes, many times over the years, but this season my daughter is an apprentice. She’ll be in the cabaret tonight. She’s singing ‘Second Hand Rose.’”
“So the showbiz bug has bitten her, too,” said John. “Lord help her.”
The couples chuckled. “We just came from seeing Devil in the Details,” said Megan.
“We saw it last night,” said Caroline. “What did you think?”
John answered the question. “I think you were the lucky ones. That understudy was actually pretty good, but how can anyone hold a candle to Belinda Winthrop? What’s the story, anyway? Do you know where Belinda was tonight?”
Nick explained that no one had seen Belinda all day.
“That’s weird,” said John. “Nothing can happen to her. I’m about to invest a nice piece of change in a movie version of Devil in the Details. Keith Fallows wants to direct.”
“I’ve been hearing rumors about that,” said Nick. “And who will star?”
“Belinda Winthrop, of course,” answered John. “At least, that’s the only way I’ll invest in the project. I doubt that, without Belinda playing the lead, anyone else will pony up, either.”
The audience clapped politely but with none of the exuberance they’d shown for some of the other cabaret acts. Caroline winced as she watched Meg walk offstage. She looked over at Nick. Disappointment was clearly registered on his face.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said.
Caroline bit her lower lip, not knowing how to respond, either. Meg simply hadn’t measured up to the other, incredibly talented kids who had performed this evening. But it didn’t make sense. In her college musical this past spring, Meg had been fabulous.
“This wasn’t a true measure of her talent, Nick,” Caroline finally responded. “Everybody has an off night once in a while.”
They waited for Meg in the church vestibule. As the audience filed out of the building, the Masseys stopped to compliment Meg’s performance politely.
“That’s very kind of you,” said Nick quietly. There was an awkward lull, and the couple said good-bye and moved on.
The church was nearly empty when Meg finally walked over. “What did you think?” she asked.
“I think you’re capable of much better, Meg,” said her father. “Honestly, I was very disappointed.”
“Nick,” said Caroline, reaching for his arm to stop him.
“No, Caroline. It’s the truth, and Meg should hear it. If she has any real desire to work in this business, she is going to have to give a lot more than she gave tonight. Look at those other kids, will you? They were dripping with talent and energy. Meg, you were sleepwalking out there. What was the matter with you?”
Meg’s gaze shifted from her father to Caroline. As the two women’s eyes met, Ca
roline knew they both recognized this would be the perfect moment for her to reveal that her stepdaughter was smoking dope. Still, Caroline held off.
“Even the biggest stars have given performances they wish they could take back,” she said. “All you can do is learn from this, Meg, and figure out what you should be doing differently.” Caroline looked directly at her. “Do you know what I mean, Meg?”
“Yes,” said Meg. “I get it, Caroline. I promise, I do.”
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Well after the last patron left and the theater cleared out for the night, the killer went to the bulletin board and pulled down the sign-up sheet. As expected, it looked like almost every apprentice had signed up to meet with the New York agent.
The killer perused the list, finding the Brightlights e-mail address, with the name, telephone number, and place where the young woman who had gotten Amy’s last photo message slept at night.
Across the road from the dormitory, the killer waited. The parade of students coming back to get some sleep, some of them stopping to smoke cigarettes and talk on the lawn, slowly dwindled until there was complete stillness outside the redbrick building. Each of the kids had paused at the door, using a key to get inside.
Trying to sneak in behind one of the students had been an option, but there would still be the problem of Meg’s room being locked. And there was the even larger issue of having to deal with Meg herself. She wasn’t exactly going to welcome someone into her room and hand over her computer.
Crossing the street, the killer approached the dormitory.
Meg typed her journal entry knowing she would edit the material before she turned it in to her college theater department to get credit for her experience at Warrenstown. It wouldn’t go over well if her professor read about everything that had happened today. Yet Meg wanted to write about it as a catharsis.
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