“Having the field to ourselves couldn’t last forever,” said Annabelle.
Inside the truck, Lamar fed almost a half hour of raw video to the KEY News Broadcast Center in New York City while Caroline sent her script to the Fishbowl for approval via computer. She felt relief and satisfaction that the senior producers sitting in the glass-walled Evening Headlines nerve center suggested only minor tweaking.
“All set, Caroline?” Boomer held out a lip mike.
Caroline nodded and cleared her throat. “Belinda Winthrop, Remington Peters track for Evening Headlines in three, two, one.”
Even as she heard herself say the words, Caroline couldn’t quite believe she was reporting for the network’s flagship broadcast. She, who had no experience in hard news, would be telling millions of people what was going on up here.
“The Berkshires are known for two things: nature and culture. People who live here year-round, or come to vacation, value beauty and serenity. But in Warrenstown, Massachusetts, home of the legendary Warrenstown Summer Playhouse, loveliness and tranquillity have been shattered this summer. Two young theater apprentices were killed in a car accident last weekend, a town librarian was found murdered Thursday morning, and the Academy, Emmy, and Tony award winner Belinda Winthrop has been missing for two days.
“Insert sound bite of woman in theater lobby: ‘I can’t even let myself think about something happening to Belinda Winthrop. She’s been bringing me, and so many other people, happiness for years. She’s an extraordinary talent.’”
Caroline paused to give further editing instructions. “Okay, this is the place to bring up some sound from the video we just fed in of Belinda onstage opening night.”
After clearing her throat again, she continued her narration. “Winthrop has been coming to Warrenstown every summer for the last twenty years. This season, she was starring in the premiere of Devil in the Details, a new play that is expected to be headed for literary awards and Hollywood glory.
“Insert sound bite from interview done with Belinda Winthrop on opening night: ‘Imagine being associated with someone who has no conscience. Victoria Sterling has given us a staggering view of the true terror it must be to be joined to a sociopath. I count myself fortunate to be able to interpret this rich and fabulous material.’
“Back to track: But after an opening-night performance which was hailed as a triumph, Belinda Winthrop disappeared following a cast party at her home. Today, police and volunteers combed her one-hundred-fifty-acre country estate. One of the actress’s shoes was found in the woods. Police also found eighty pounds of marijuana stored in the cellar of a carriage house on Winthrop’s property. The carriage house is the home and studio of acclaimed Berkshire landscape artist and Winthrop portraitist, Remington Peters. He was taken into custody and then released on bail.
“Edit in my question and his answer,” Caroline instructed into the microphone. “I ask: ‘Do you have any speculation about how the marijuana got there?’ He answers: ‘I don’t know for sure, but I’ve seen things at night, things falling from the sky. Maybe that has something to do with it.’
“More track: The artist is known for being reclusive and somewhat eccentric. He came to live on the Winthrop estate after a fire destroyed his previous studio, incinerating all of his portraits of Belinda Winthrop in seventeen successive roles on the Warrenstown Summer Playhouse stage. Peters’s latest portrait, of Winthrop as Valerie in Devil in the Details, was scheduled to be unveiled this week, but at the last minute, Peters refused to show the work, claiming it wasn’t ready. KEY News has obtained exclusive video of the current portrait.
“Okay,” said Caroline. “Cover that last sentence with the video taken with the camcorder of the painting on the easel in Remington’s studio, and let it run over the next sentences as well.
“These alarming images show a character in direct opposition to the role Belinda Winthrop is playing onstage. Valerie is a fear-tortured character as she comes to realize her husband is a sociopath. In Peters’s portrait, Valerie looks like the one who is doing the torturing. Remington Peters has never made any secret of the fact that he fell in love with Belinda Winthrop twenty years ago, when they were working together at the Summer Playhouse. The actress rejected him.
“Now put in the Remington sound bite; pick it up at: ‘An artist’s feelings for his subject influence his work.’
“And finally, edit in the stand-up close shot in front of Winthrop’s farmhouse with the carriage house in the background.
“Still, a disturbing painting and some marijuana do not prove anything. It will be up to the police to unravel this case as the search for Belinda Winthrop continues. Caroline Enright, KEY News, Warrenstown.”
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Chip Mueller always had his breakfast at other people’s dinnertime. His job as the night watchman at the storage facility meant that he slept most of the day. When he got out of bed, Chip showered, dressed in his dark blue uniform, then headed to the kitchen to fry up some eggs and sausage. He sat at the kitchen table by himself and watched the KEY Evening Headlines as he ate.
This evening Chip watched intently as the reporter told the story of the artist fella in Warrenstown who had the pot stored in his cellar and lived on Belinda Winthrop’s property. The story said the man was famous for painting pictures of Belinda Winthrop but most of his work had been destroyed in a fire a few years back.
Chip was pretty certain that the man shown on the television screen was the same guy who had made two trips to the storage facility last night. And those large, flat packages he’d been unloading sure could have been paintings. If they were, why was he putting so many in storage in the middle of the night?
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Knowing that Meg would eventually have to come back to the theater, it made sense to check the dressing room first. It was empty.
Considering what to do next, the killer walked down the hallway, glancing into the rest area. The killer silently approached a figure lying on the cot in the greenroom.
There was Meg, sound asleep.
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Meg’s eyes sprang open as she felt the hand clamp down on her mouth. It took her a second to orient herself. She didn’t understand what was going on.
But it quickly dawned on her as she looked into piercing eyes and felt hot breath on her face. Meg struggled to push her attacker away.
“Don’t even try to resist. Do as I say and you won’t get hurt, Meg.”
C H A P T E R
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After the KEY News people received a good-night from the Broadcast Center, Caroline called Meg but got only her outgoing voice-mail message.
“Meg, it’s me. Caroline. I’m sorry I couldn’t connect with you after the memorial service to tell you what a good job you did. You were so moving, Meg. I was so proud of you, and I know your dad would have been, too. Let’s talk. I still have your tote bag and want to get it back to you. Call me.”
Caroline hoped Meg wasn’t hurt or annoyed by the lapse. But as she thought more about it, she decided that Meg would just have to understand. While Caroline would hate to think her improving relationship with Meg might be jeopardized, she couldn’t allow herself to be intimidated, either. She had a job to do, and she shouldn’t have to make apologies for it.
She put away her cell phone and returned to Annabelle, Lamar, and Boomer, who were deep in conversation outside the satellite truck.
“We’ve got to return the tape of the play to the audiovisual department. After that, we’re going to dinner,” said Annabelle. “Want to come with us?”
“All right, great,” answered Caroline, knowing that Meg would be occupied with her dressing duties for Langley Tate for the next few hours. “Where are we going?”
In the theater’s subbasement there were many storage areas. Meg found herself in one of them. She was tied up and shaking.
“Tell me where it is,” dem
anded her captor. “Tell me where that script is.”
Meg knew exactly where the script was, but if she gave up the information, she would be putting Caroline in danger. She looked into the cold, determined eyes boring into hers. The pupils were dilated, the corneas glassy.
“Don’t think I’m fooling around, Meg, because I’m not.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Meg’s voice quivered.
“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you have it. I can tell from your journal.”
“How did you read my journal?” As Meg finished asking the question, it dawned on her. “You stole my computer.” The enormity of the realization overwhelmed her. She was face-to-face with the thief who had sneaked into the dorm and come into her room, invading her privacy. Knowing the thief was not just some kid who shared the dorm with her but an adult with an agenda—prepared to abduct Meg just to get a script—was both confusing and terrifying.
“Smart girl, Meg. I guess they don’t call you Brightlights for nothing. So be intelligent, and tell me where the script is.”
Meg’s mind raced, suspecting the script was the thing that was going to keep her alive. If that was turned over, she’d have no leverage.
“I don’t have it,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the fear out of her voice.
“Maybe you need some time to think it over,” said the killer, stuffing a gag into Meg’s mouth. “I’m going to leave for a while, but you can sit down here in the dark and reconsider.”
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Something wasn’t lining up right, thought Howard Stanley as he sat at his desk in the police station. He’d have thought for sure that, if anyone was working a drug-dealing operation, it would be Gus Oberon, not Remington Peters. With Oberon’s history, it would have made a helluva lot more sense if they’d found the marijuana at his place instead of the artist’s.
“It’s Gus Oberon’s parole officer on the line, Chief.”
Chief Stanley snatched up the phone. “Thanks for returning my call,” he said.
Filling the parole officer in on what had been happening in Warrenstown, and about the cartons of marijuana they’d found in the carriage house at Belinda Winthrop’s estate, Chief Stanley shared his uncertainty about the arrest of Remington Peters. “I’m thinking there’s a possibility Gus Oberon might have planted that pot in the cellar,” he said.
“Well, Gus has seemed to be on the straight and narrow,” said the parole officer. “He’s been coming for all his appointments and passing his periodic drug tests, but I don’t delude myself. A parole officer can be fooled. And Gus Oberon is a very manipulative person who can charm the bark right off a tree.”
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After surveying the packed house, Keith and Victoria conferred in the wings before the curtain went up. Belinda’s disappearance was not hurting attendance at all.
“I heard one person say that he bought his ticket because of all the fuss,” said the director. “Maybe things are going to work out after all.”
“That’s a pretty callous thing to say, Keith, considering all that’s happened.”
“I know tact isn’t my strong suit, Victoria, but you know what I meant. What would you think about Langley in the movie version?”
“You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself, aren’t you, Keith?”
“Unlike Belinda, at least Langley would jump at the chance to star in Devil in the Details on-screen.”
“What about financial backing?” asked Victoria. “Langley isn’t going to bring in the investors the way Belinda could.”
“Yeah, but Langley isn’t going to demand the salary Belinda would, either.”
“Stop living in la-la land, Keith. Belinda means so much more than Langley. We both know that.”
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After dinner, Annabelle announced she was going back to the inn to get some sleep.
“Don’t forget, you guys, Constance will be here in the morning. Our host will be expecting us to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed very, very early tomorrow.”
Lamar and Boomer said they still wanted to stop for a drink at the local pub. “Caroline, are you ready to go back now?” Annabelle asked.
“You go ahead, Annabelle. I’m just going to make a short stop at the theater to see Meg before I turn in for the night.”
There was no one in the dressing room when Caroline arrived. She could see on the television monitor that the actors were nearing the end of the first act. She sat down to wait, resting Meg’s tote bag on the floor next to the chair.
As she watched Langley on the monitor, she had to admit that the young woman was talented. Not in Belinda Winthrop’s league, of course, but with the right opportunities and seasoning, Langley would likely have quite a career in front of her.
The script stuck up from the top of Meg’s tote bag. Caroline pulled it out and flipped through the pages, catching up to the spot where the actors were onstage above her. She read along but was confused. Langley’s Valerie was reciting the lines of her husband. He was reciting hers.
It must be a misprint, thought Caroline with impatience, slipping the script back in the bag. Where was Meg, anyway? She was supposed to be waiting in the dressing room when Langley arrived at intermission for her costume change.
Langley tore into the dressing room. Her expression darkened further when she saw that Caroline, not Meg, was the only one waiting.
“She’s still not here?” Langley demanded. “Bad enough I had to dress myself for the first act. I damn well expected Meg to be here to help me at intermission.”
“What do you mean Meg wasn’t here? That isn’t like her at all. I hope nothing has happened to her.”
Langley shrugged. “Well, if it has, her problem has become my problem. And while we’re at it, why did you bother to interview me if you weren’t even going to use any of it in your story tonight?”
“Look, Langley. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed by not being included in the piece. That’s just how it works out sometimes. But I’m more concerned about Meg. I’ve called her a couple of times and there’s been no answer.” Caroline scribbled down her own cell phone number. “I’m going over to check her dorm. If she turns up, please call me right away.”
Another apprentice let her into the dormitory, but there was no answer when Caroline repeatedly knocked on Meg’s door. Caroline canvased other hall residents. No one had seen Meg since the memorial service that afternoon.
The uneasiness Caroline felt was turning to panic.
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Langley was giving a better performance tonight than last night, thought Keith as the final scene began. Though the director thoroughly knew the lines, he consulted his script from time to time, marking the passages he wanted to discuss with Langley.
ACT TWO, SCENE FOUR
When the lights come up, DAVIS has followed VALERIE onto the balcony. The sky is riddled with stars, and the moon is bright. DAVIS admires the view and then turns his attention to VALERIE, who is standing in the center of the balcony. DAVIS is frighteningly calm.
DAVIS: Why shouldn’t these narrow balconies ever be called “widowers’ walks”? Do architects not imagine that men who have suddenly found themselves alone in life need a breath of fresh air? (He looks up at the night sky.) Are not the stars meant to bring solace to grieving husbands, too?
VALERIE: I have already told you. I am not going to commit suicide for you, Davis. (She brings her hand up to her head, teeters dizzily for a moment, and finding the railing with her other hand, steadies herself.) I’ve got such an awful head. I had better get to the medicine cabinet.
DAVIS: For what? This? (He holds up a small paper envelope.) I don’t think I can let you have your medicine, my dear Valerie. I prefer you dizzy and unsteady. Alas, suicides are far too messy. (DAVIS walks toward VALERIE until he is next to her, blocking her exit.) It will have to be an accident.
>
VALERIE: (Holding on to the railing with both hands) Keep away from me, Davis. I have looked into your eyes lately and seen something horrible, something inhuman and evil. I beg you, if there is a shred of decency left in you, let me pass. And if you refuse me my medicine, at least let me go back inside and lie down.
DAVIS: The night is too beautiful to spend indoors. (He whispers in her ear.) Look at how high up we are. Imagine how quickly the end would come if the railing were to give way. What blessed relief it would be to finally have these headaches behind you. (He begins slowly to shake the railing, loosening it from its moorings.) Marriage to me has been a living hell, has it not? You want peace, don’t you?
VALERIE: Stop it, Davis. Stop it. (She steps away from the railing and in two steps has her back against the wall.) I cannot fight you any longer. I surrender, do you hear? I surrender!
DAVIS: (He finally loosens the railing completely, and it crashes to earth, leaving them both just steps away from the edge. He pulls the revolver from the pocket of his smoking jacket and aims it at his wife.) Surrender is all I needed to hear, darling. (He reaches out to her, putting his free hand on her shoulder.) Now come. Two small steps and it will be over. Your surrender will be complete.
(VALERIE resists DAVIS, pinned to the wall as if by nails. DAVIS pulls harder while VALERIE fights to stay where she is. DAVIS finally yanks VALERIE away from the wall, and the two of them stand tottering on the edge. In a flash, VALERIE rips the gun from DAVIS’s grip, and DAVIS falls, silently, off the balcony. VALERIE stands stricken for a moment and then, triumphant, she EXITS.)
Lights Out Tonight Page 19
