Lights Out Tonight (22 page)

Sure enough, when Annabelle called KEY News headquarters, there was no interest in Caroline Enright doing a piece, but the anchorwoman Eliza Blake would tell the story, narrating over video of Curtains Up and general Warrenstown B-roll. They also asked for the interview Caroline had done with Belinda the evening before. Caroline’s interview would air without her getting any credit for it.

“They do want us to go over in the morning and see if we can get pictures of the police beginning the organized search of Belinda’s property,” reported Annabelle.

“And between now and then?” asked Caroline.

“Go have a good time with your husband tonight,” said Annabelle. “I’ll make sure the video gets to New York. Since we don’t have a satellite truck here yet, I’ll get Lamar to drive me over to the Albany affiliate, and we’ll feed from there. I’ll keep in touch with the police, too.”

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Slowly, Remington finished wrapping the last of the portraits. As he covered Belinda’s lovely face with batting, Remington wondered when he would next be able to see her. He knew it could be a very long time before it would be safe to have his treasures with him again.

He snuffed out the candles that had provided his work light and lifted the canvas, carrying it up the cellar stairs. Remington propped the portrait next to the front door with the others. Now, he just had to wait for the sun to go down to load the portraits into the car and transport them to the storage facility. He would be back safe and sound, his mission accomplished, before the morning sun.

Looking at his watch, he knew he had some time, and he wanted to use it productively. Though it had been necessary, Remington felt he’d wasted his day getting ready to move the portraits. Those paintings were no longer supposed to exist. No one could see them, not only because he didn’t want to share his beloved with the world but because the insurance company believed they’d been destroyed in the fire. The authorities wouldn’t care that Remington had donated the payout he’d received
to charity. They would care only that he’d lied and taken their money. So he’d spent his time covering his tracks instead of making any progress on the portrait on which he
should
have been working: Belinda as Valerie.

Remington went to the closet, opened it, and took out his work in progress.

“I’m sorry I had to shut you in there like that,” he said. “I couldn’t leave you out anymore. Everyone wants to see you, but you’re not ready to be seen.”

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“I’ve made a reservation at Pierre’s,” said Nick. “It’s the best place in Warrenstown.”

“That sounds great,” said Caroline. “But do you think we could go to the Ambrose Gallery before dinner? I’d like to stop in at the exhibition opening.”

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.