Lights Out Tonight (10 page)

“Oh, before I forget, here’s the makeup and moisturizer
you wanted.” Caroline pulled a paper bag from her tote. “And I got those leather sandals from your closet.”

“Thanks.”

As she handed the shopping bag to Meg, Caroline decided she had to say something about what she’d found. “You know, Meg,” she began, “when I was in your closet, I came across something that worries me.”

Meg snapped. “What were you doing snooping around my room?”

“I wasn’t snooping, Meg. That bag of marijuana and rolling papers must have fallen from the closet shelf to the floor. At least I guess that’s what happened. You didn’t leave that stuff out where anyone could find it because you wanted to be caught, did you?”

“Of course not.” Meg frowned. “But it’s really not a big deal, Caroline.”

“I bet those two kids who died didn’t think it was a big deal either.”

Meg said nothing.

“Look, Meg, at this point I’m not going to mention anything to your dad, but I’m very concerned. I want you to promise me that you’ll never mix drugs with driving.”

“All right,” said Meg, “as long as you don’t worry my father with any of this.”

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The lights in the studio were on far later than usual as Remington studied his portrait of Belinda Winthrop as Valerie. After having seen the run-through of
Devil in the Details,
he was devastated that he hadn’t captured on canvas what he saw onstage.

He dabbed his brush in the green paint on his palette. With expert strokes he worked on Valerie’s flowing velvet gown. The dress was coming out exactly as it should. It was her expression that he’d gotten all wrong.

There was no way this portrait was going to be ready to go to the gallery in the morning.

Remington tried to imagine how he was going to explain to Zeke and Jean Ambrose when they came in the morning to pick up the painting. They had been advertising this exhibition for weeks, with the new portrait of Belinda Winthrop as Valerie billed as the most important work in the show.

Jean and Zeke had been very good to him over the years, and Remington didn’t want to disappoint them. When the fire had gutted his studio, they’d swallowed the news that the Belinda Winthrop theatrical portrait collection was gone forever, and they’d focused on consoling him, urging him to continue
with his work. They’d showered him with phone calls and dinners and attention. And when Belinda had offered the use of her carriage house as a studio and apartment, the couple had helped get him settled in.

But no matter how much Remington hated to let Zeke and Jean down, he just couldn’t allow this portrait to go on display the way it was. He would, however, do his very best to get it right as soon as possible.

He put his paintbrush down and picked up the copy of the
Devil in the Details
script he’d been given, which he’d read over and over again. As he was reading through the last scene, he heard the low roar. The sound grew stronger, and Remington wondered, as he often did, why a plane would be flying so low in the sky in the middle of the night so far from the nearest airport.

Other nights he’d gotten out of bed to look into the heavens, but he’d never been able to see anything. Still, Remington walked out of the carriage house and looked up. The moon was only half full, but it helped to illuminate the pollution-free, star-filled sky. When the sound of the plane’s engine was its loudest, Remington saw the dark boxes, falling through the night sky into the meadow below.

THURSDAY

—— AUGUST 3 ——

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When she heard her Warrenstown Inn guest room door open and saw the light stream in from the hallway, Caroline stayed completely still in the king-size bed and pretended to be asleep. She listened as the door closed ever so softly while the person entering tried not to make a sound. Her heart pounded as she heard the rustle of clothing coming off, a zipper being unzipped. Caroline held her breath as she felt the weight of the body come down on the mattress.

“I thought you’d never get here,” she said, rolling over and reaching out. Nick’s strong arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her close.

“Me neither.”

“You know how lucky I am to have you?” Nick said afterward.

“Supremely.” She reached for the glass of water on the bedside table.

“Seriously, Caroline,” said Nick. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to me,” she said, snuggling closer. “And even if it did, you’d go on, Nick. I’d want you to.”

“Yeah, but
I
wouldn’t want to.”

Caroline thought she heard his voice crack. “Hey,” she said. “What’s bringing all this on? What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. I guess it’s being back in Warrenstown. Last time I was here was the last trip Maggie and I ever took together. Right after we got back to New York, she got her diagnosis. The rest is history.”

Caroline reached for his hand in the dark. “I know it’s a painful history, but it
is
history. It’s in the past now, Nick. We have so much to look forward to—our whole lives.”

“I don’t know, honey,” he whispered. “You can be cruising along, and then, wham! Something comes out of the blue and turns your world upside down. Afterwards, nothing you can say or do will make things better.”

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The police patrol car responded to the dispatcher’s directions and sped to the Warrenstown Public Library. A middle-aged woman stood in the parking lot. Tears were streaming down her face.

“I got here to open up, and the doors were unlocked,” she sobbed. “For a minute I was annoyed with Theresa. I thought she hadn’t locked up properly last night. But then…” The woman covered her eyes with her hands.

“But then, what, ma’am?”

“But then, I went inside and turned on the lights and found her. Theresa was lying on the floor beside the circulation desk. I bent down to help her get up, and that’s when I saw all the blood. She was so cold. I could tell she was dead.” The woman wrapped her arms around herself as she shook.

“You stay right here, ma’am.” The patrolman opened the double doors and went into the library. The fluorescent lighting glared on the figure lying facedown on the floor next to the front desk. The patrolman knelt on one knee, careful not to touch the dark blood, and, positioning his hands around the body, turned the dead weight over.

The patrolman couldn’t be sure if the victim’s face had been stuck in an expression of surprise or terror. But there was no question at all that Theresa Templeton’s eyes were wide open and her throat had been skewered by the metal letter opener that lay beside her.

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“I ordered room service,” said Caroline as she heard the knock on the door.

“Perfect,” said Nick. He got out of bed, picked up the pants he had left crumpled on the floor, and pulled money out of the pocket. He answered the door, handed the waiter a tip, and rolled the breakfast cart into the room himself.

“Shall we have breakfast in bed?” he asked. “Or do you want to eat by the window?”

“Bed,” said Caroline as she sat up and propped the pillows against the headboard.

“Looks good,” said Nick as he took the lids off the plates. There was enough food for a family of four: stacks of pancakes with sausage links and bacon, two plates of sliced honeydew and cantaloupe with strawberry halves, and buttered whole wheat toast cut on the diagonal. Two pitchers of hot maple
syrup and a tall carafe of freshly brewed coffee sat on the corner of the starched white cloth that covered the cart.

They talked about Nick’s flight from L.A. and the drive from New York to Warrenstown at night. “After you get off the highway, some of that route is mighty lonely and dark. I almost went off the road at one curve.”

Caroline told Nick about the two Warrenstown apprentices who had been killed on Sunday. “But they didn’t go into that ditch because their car went off the road in the dark,” she said. “They’d been smoking pot.”

Nick winced. “God help their parents.”

Caroline was very tempted to tell Nick about the marijuana she’d found in Meg’s closet, yet not only had she told her stepdaughter that she wouldn’t but she didn’t want to spoil their first hours together after too long a separation. The thought of the fatal car accident reminded her of another, though.

“Nick?”

“Yes?”

“In my research, I came across an old
Vanity Fair
article that talked about when Daniel Sterling had that car accident and was killed after Belinda Winthrop’s party two years ago.”

“Uh-huh,” Nick responded as he poured more coffee into both of their cups.

“Well, it said his wife told police that Daniel said he’d argued with someone at the party before he went for a ride to cool off. And the article mentioned that you had been one of the guests and had been questioned.”

“Me and everyone else there, Sunshine.”

“I don’t understand why you never told me, Nick, especially
after you knew that I was planning on doing stories about Warrenstown and Belinda Winthrop.”

Nick shrugged. “I don’t know, Caroline. Maybe it’s because I don’t particularly like to remember that summer.”

“Why not?”

“I guess, for starters, it’s what I said last night. That was the summer before Maggie died. We didn’t even know she was sick when we came up for the reading of my screenplay. We had a good time, but I always feel guilty that I didn’t spend enough time with Maggie that summer.” He paused to take another sip of coffee before continuing. “I was so engrossed in the theatrical goings-on that I left her to wander around on her own a lot of the time. Sure, Maggie could amuse herself, and she loved going to the museums, especially the Clark. I know she drove down to Stockbridge to look at Norman Rockwell’s paintings and went to Lenox to tour Edith Wharton’s mansion. But I’ve always felt I should have gone with her.”

Caroline took her husband’s hand. “You couldn’t have known, Nick.”

“I know.” He exhaled deeply. “But whenever I think of that summer, I feel sad. So, male that I am, I try to avoid the subject.”

Caroline leaned over and kissed her husband’s cheek. “But what about Belinda Winthrop’s party?” she asked. “Who do you think Daniel Sterling fought with before he drove off?”

“Sunshine, if Daniel Sterling fought with someone at Belinda’s party, I have no idea who it was.” Nick lifted the breakfast tray from his lap and put it on the floor. He turned to gaze at Caroline. The morning sun streaming through the window
bathed her in the most enhancing light. He was enchanted by her shining blue eyes, her fine features, her pale, smooth skin. When he’d first met Caroline, she’d reminded him of what he imagined the heroines in one of the Brontë sisters’ novels would look like. “Now why are we wasting our valuable time on the past?” he asked as he leaned over to kiss her. “The present interests me a lot more.”

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When he was finished arranging the latest shipment in neat stacks, Gus sat down on the dirt floor and admired his work. He was exhausted. One night a week, every week, he had no sleep at all. He’d wait up late for the plane to come and then work until dawn, carrying the boxes from the meadow to the cave.

If he could actually trust anyone else, he could hire someone to do this lifting and hauling and storing. But he didn’t want to share his profits, and he couldn’t take the chance that someone might rat him out. That was what had happened the last time. That was what had sent him to jail. He wouldn’t risk it again.

Gus pointed the flashlight at his watch, knowing he should
be back at the house well before Belinda got up. He pulled himself to a standing position, brushed the dirt from the seat of his jeans, and climbed the ladder. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the daylight.

He drove the golf cart out of the woods, dreading the day ahead. Belinda had that party planned for tonight, and she would no doubt have a list of things for him to do today. And he had to get down to Pittsfield this afternoon for the appointment with his parole officer. What a nuisance that was.

Gus went straight to the barn and began to take out the folding chairs that Belinda wanted arranged around the tables on the patio. He’d have that all set up by the time she came downstairs so she would be pleased. He wondered if she would bring up the hole she’d found in the woods. If she did, he still wasn’t certain how he was going to explain it to her.

But Gus was pretty sure he had some more time to come up with his explanation. Belinda would be preoccupied with her new play, and the party afterward. He had at least another several hours to come up with a good lie.

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It never ceased to amaze Caroline how different Meg was when she was around her father from when she was alone with Caroline. All of Meg’s sullenness was gone the minute Nick showed up. Caroline was sure it had been a good idea to include Nick in the tour Meg had grudgingly agreed to give her stepmother and the camera crew.