Lights Out Tonight (8 page)

Keith was furious, but he didn’t want to have it out with Belinda with the whole cast and crew as witnesses. And he didn’t want to alienate her any more than he might have already. He needed her too much; his future depended on her.

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20

Caroline and her video crew arrived at the theater in time to hear the stage manager’s final instruction to the cast: “All right, everyone, you have a few hours to yourselves. Seven-thirty call for an eight o’clock show.”

Caroline stood at the end of the aisle and waited as Keith Fallows finished speaking to several members of the crew. When he was finally alone, she walked over and introduced herself.

The director looked at her with a blank expression on his face.

“We had an interview scheduled this afternoon, for
KEY to America?”
Caroline prompted him.

“Oh yes, that’s right. How could I forget?” Keith smiled, but she detected a hint of sarcasm.

“Where would you like us to set up?” she asked. “We could do it down here in the seats, or I was thinking we might do it up on the set.”

“My dear, where we do it will have to be up to you. I have no desire to direct your interview. I have enough to do.”

“I was only trying to accommodate your preferences, Mr. Fallows,” said Caroline evenly, determined not to show that his words had stung.

“Well, if you really want to accommodate me, would you mind if we rescheduled? I just have too much on my mind right now.”

As she and the crew left the theater, Caroline knew her pale cheeks were blushing.

“Wow. He really blew you off,” said Boomer.

“Ya think?” asked Caroline with sarcasm.

“Don’t need to be so touchy. I was just making an observation.”

“Thanks, Boomer,” said Caroline. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

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21

The librarian listened to the request and then looked up at the clock on the wall. “We’re closing in fifteen minutes.”

“I know, but it’s really important. I won’t be able to come back tomorrow. I really need that old issue of
Vanity Fair.”

“All right. Wait here.”

Five precious minutes were eaten up waiting for the librarian to search the stacks. The elderly woman arrived back at the circulation desk with the magazine in her hand.

“There’s a copy machine over against the wall if you need it,” she offered.

“Thanks. I don’t think that will be necessary.”

The librarian turned to finish her tasks before closing as the reader walked down the row of bookshelves to a table in the corner. In seconds the article on Belinda Winthrop was folded and stashed away.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” The librarian stood over the table with books held tightly in her arms.

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I saw you.”

“Saw me
what?”

“Take those pages out of that magazine.”

“You must be mistaken.”

The librarian quickly considered her options. It was her turn to lock up, and the other staffers had already gone home. She was all alone. As she stared into the unblinking eyes, she decided to avoid a conflict.

“Please leave,” she said. “And do not come back here again.”

If she went through the magazine, the nosy librarian would be able to tell which article had been taken. And if anything ever happened to Belinda Winthrop, the librarian would surely remember the stolen article and think it worthy of mentioning to the police. The librarian would be able to give a physical description.

The librarian had to go.

How?

There had been a metal letter opener shining at the circulation desk. That could work. It would be messy but effective.

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22

Having been rebuffed by Keith Fallows, Caroline and her crew went about getting general video of the exterior of the theater and the manicured grounds that surrounded it. “Make sure you get a couple of shots at different angles of the signs,” said Caroline, pointing to the huge posters that flanked the double doors to the theater lobby.

Belinda Winthrop’s name appeared in large lettering over the silhouette of a masculine figure holding a pistol. Beneath the silhouette was a list, in smaller print, of the other players’ names. Then, at the bottom, the print increased in size again, announcing that
Devil in the Details
was written by Victoria Sterling and directed by Keith Fallows.

“Be sure to get close-up shots on the names Winthrop, Fallows, and Sterling,” said Caroline as she thought ahead to what she would need for editing purposes later. Those three were the most important interviews to get during her time in Warrenstown. Although Fallows had just blown her off, he’d promised to give her some time tomorrow. Caroline wanted to wait to get Belinda Winthrop’s interview until after the play opened tomorrow night.

“Okay, let’s go inside,” Caroline directed. “Victoria Sterling should be here anytime now.”

The theater lobby had a soaring ceiling and lots of long glass windows. The walls were lined with slotted ash panels, and the floor was cool slate. Benches were sprinkled along the sides of the spacious area.

“How about setting up over there?” Caroline suggested, indicating one of the benches.

“Fine,” said Lamar.

While Lamar set up his tripod and Boomer fiddled around with his sound equipment, Caroline went over her notes. She had prepared her questions for the playwright in advance. When Victoria finally appeared, Caroline was ready.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” said Victoria as Boomer clipped on her microphone. “To tell you the truth, I almost forgot we’d set up this interview. You know, last-minute preps before the opening and all.”

Caroline nodded. “Of course. We just so appreciate that you are taking the time to do this.”

With interviewer and subject wired up, Lamar signaled that he was ready to begin recording.

“All, right,” said Caroline. “I guess it goes without saying that this must be an exciting time for you.”

“Exciting or nerve-racking. Take your pick,” Victoria answered.

“
Devil in the Details
is your first solo effort at playwriting, isn’t it?”

“Well, at least it’s the first solo thing I’ve done in a very long time. Before I met Daniel, I had written several plays. One had even been produced off-Broadway. But once Daniel and I started to collaborate, that was it… until his death.”

“Some say that this play,
Devil in the Details,
is better than anything you and your husband wrote together.”

Victoria nodded. “I’ve heard that, but believe me, I take no solace in it. Daniel was a fabulously creative man, and he was taken much too soon.”

“Rumor has it that
Devil in the Details
will be a contender for the Pulitzer Prize in drama. Is that true?”

“Well, the play is being submitted. As you probably know, Caroline, the Pulitzer committee prefers that a videotape of the production itself be sent, as well as six copies of the script. That tape will be shot tomorrow night at the opening. And having Belinda Winthrop in the lead can’t hurt, can it?” Victoria smiled.

“No. It certainly can’t,” Caroline agreed, knowing she was about to get to the part of the interview she had been dreading and Victoria Sterling probably wasn’t going to like. “Would you be able to give a brief description of what the play is about?”

Victoria took a deep breath and paused a moment. “I know
how you people want everything said in sound bites, so let’s just say that
Devil in the Details
is the story of the marriage of a woman who is totally in love with her charismatic husband but slowly starts to realize that he isn’t what she thinks he is.”

“And what is he?” Caroline prompted.

“He’s a man with no conscience. He’s capable of doing anything to get what he wants, no matter whom he hurts.”

Caroline swallowed, knowing she had to ask the next question. “Some people are speculating that the play has an autobiographical component. They say that
Devil in the Details
reflects your life with your husband. What do you say to that?”

“Not much,” said Victoria.

Caroline waited for her subject to continue, but Victoria resolutely stared her down.

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23

Boomer studied the
See the Berkshires
tourist guide, or more specifically, he studied the restaurant ads. He settled on a place that boasted unbeatable steaks and sweet Maine lobsters. “Surf and turf. That’s for me,” he said, his eyes growing brighter at the prospect.

“Whatever makes you happy, Boom,” said Lamar as he packed away his camera gear.

Caroline noticed that neither man extended an invitation to join them. “Thanks, guys,” she said. “But I’m going to pass this time. I want to have dinner with my stepdaughter later.”

Lamar looked slightly sheepish, while Boomer seemed not have picked up on her sarcasm.

“Oh, yeah? Where you going?” he asked, worried there might be someplace better than the restaurant he’d chosen.

“Not sure yet,” she answered. “I’m going to leave it up to her—if I can ever reach her on the phone.”

As the crew car drove away, Caroline decided to head over to Main Street. She walked past the ivy-covered brick buildings that dotted the edge of campus, aware of a sense of history. Warren College had been established just after the Revolutionary War, and many of the towered structures had been built during the 1800s. There was a feeling of permanence and serenity here. It was a privileged, protected place.

She thought of the parents of the two young apprentices who had died in the car wreck. They had sent their kids off to Warrenstown for the summer, confident that no harm would come to them here. They’d be sleeping in the Warren College dorms, eating in the Warren College cafeteria, working and learning in the theater on the Warren College campus. Instead, those parents were experiencing the worst imaginable heartbreak.

Thank God, Meg was all right. Nick would never get over it if something happened to his daughter.

Caroline strolled down Main Street, stopping to look in the windows. She admired a gauzy, black peasant skirt displayed in a dress shop window and went inside to try it on. As she assessed herself in the long mirror, Caroline wished, as she did at least once a day, that she was taller. But the skirt looked good on her all the same, so she bought it.

She continued down the block, where a turquoise necklace at a jewelry store caught her eye, and she bought that for Meg’s birthday. She wanted to get something for Nick as well. When she spotted the art gallery, she headed for the entrance. A pleasant-looking, middle-aged woman walked toward her.

“Hello. I’m Jean Ambrose,” she said, extending her hand. “Welcome to the Ambrose Gallery.”

Caroline looked around the spacious, open room. Carefully hung paintings graced the pale gray walls. Several precisely arranged pieces of handcrafted furniture sat on the slate-colored carpeting. A few glass display cases housed decorative artifacts. Everything in the gallery had been deliberately selected and displayed to its best advantage.

“You have a beautiful place here,” said Caroline.

“Thank you,” said Jean. “We’re getting ready for the exhibition opening Friday night.” She gestured to an empty space on a long wall. “That’s where Remington Peters’s new portrait of Belinda Winthrop will be displayed.”

Caroline walked over to the wall and looked at the two paintings flanking the spot reserved for the new portrait. In one, the figure of a woman wearing a flowing gossamer gown swayed against a wooded background. In the other, the same woman wore a simple black dress and an especially long string of pearls around her neck. Her hair was swept up in an homage to Audrey Hepburn in
Breakfast at Tiffany’s.

“Those, of course, are Belinda Winthrop in the roles she played the last two seasons at Warrenstown. Titania, the queen of the fairies, in
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
and Madison Whitehall, the main character in
Treasure Trove,”
Jean explained. “We are so thrilled to be able to add Remington’s newest work, with Belinda as Valerie in
Devil in the Details.”