Lights Out Tonight (17 page)

Sergeant Weaver and a police patrolman walked across the yard to the garage. There was no one inside.

“Let’s go try the artist,” said Weaver.

Remington Peters answered the carriage house door on the first knock. His hair was disheveled, his mouth downturned.

“May we come in?” asked Sergeant Weaver.

“Uh, yes. Of course.” Remington stood back to let the men pass.

The officers scanned the studio. Weaver’s eyes fixed on the cloth-covered easel. “What are you working on?” he asked.

“A portrait,” said Remington.

“Belinda Winthrop’s?” asked Weaver. “I saw that you are having that exhibit over at the Ambrose Gallery.” He moved closer to the easel. “Can I see?” His hand reached for the cloth.

“No.” Remington positioned himself between the policeman and the canvas. “I mean, I don’t let anyone see my work before it’s completed.”

“All right. I guess I can respect that,” said Weaver, backing away. “Tell me, though, Mr. Peters. When was the last time you saw Ms. Winthrop?”

“Last night.”

“Where?”

“At her party.”

“How did she seem?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, did she seem upset about anything?”

Remington paused to consider the question. He could truthfully say that Belinda, actress that she was, had been the perfect hostess. If she had been upset, she hadn’t let it show. In front of her guests, Belinda had appeared as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

“No, Sergeant,” he answered. “Belinda didn’t seem distressed at all. She had a lot to be happy about. Everyone at the party was telling her she’d just given the performance of a lifetime.”

As Gus came out of the woods, he could see the police car parked in front of the farmhouse. He crouched down, watching
as two uniformed cops came out of the carriage house and walked toward the garage.

They were looking for him. Gus was sure of it.

He turned and went back into the woods. If the cops were going to be snooping around, he had to finish camouflaging the opening to his cave.

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“You were at her party last night, Caroline. Did you see anything strange?” Lamar asked as they drove from Belinda’s place back into town.

“Not particularly. It was a pretty happy bunch,” Caroline said. “There was a lot of goodwill there. Everyone was celebrating the play.”

“Lots of booze?” asked Boomer.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Anybody make a scene?” asked Lamar.

“If anyone did, I didn’t see it.”

“Was Belinda loaded?” asked Boomer.

“I saw her with a martini glass in her hand,” said Caroline, “but that doesn’t mean she was drunk.”

“But maybe she was,” said Boomer. “I’ve known women to pull some pretty crazy stunts when they had a couple of drinks.”

“I don’t know, Boom,” said Lamar. “Belinda Winthrop has her act together pretty fine. I don’t see her doing something crazy.”

“It’s the ones who seem to have it all together who’ll fool you, Lamar,” Boomer said. “Those are the ones you have to watch out for.”

Caroline piped up from the backseat. “Belinda Winthrop is at the top of her game, guys. I don’t think she would just up and vanish as some kind of stunt. If Belinda has disappeared, I have a feeling it’s because something really has happened to her.”

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Finally, an answer from Brightlights.

IF THIS IS HOW YOU GET YOUR KICKS, YOU ARE REALLY TWISTED. NEXT TIME, DO A LITTLE RESEARCH BEFORE YOU START SUCH A PATHETIC SCAM. FOR YOUR INFORMATION, YOU IMMATURE MORON, AMY DIDN’T HAVE A MOTHER. SHE DIED. PROUD OF YOURSELF?

I CAN ONLY HOPE THAT YOU AREN’T ONE OF THE OTHER APPRENTICES. THAT THOUGHT MAKES ME SICK.

The message was unsigned.

All right, it had been a mistake to sign the e-mail as being from Amy’s mother, but how would a person know the girl’s mother was dead? The plan, to find who Amy had sent the picture of the car to, had been a good one except for that.

But now, at least, it was clear that Brightlights was a Warrenstown Summer Playhouse apprentice. There would have to be another way to find out who he or she was.

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Shaking the bottle of deep red nail polish, Langley was preparing to give herself a pedicure when her phone rang. It was Keith.

“You better get ready to step in for Belinda,” he said.

“What do you mean? What’s happened?”

“It seems nobody can find her. She’ll probably turn up. But you better be prepared, just in case.”

Langley was glad they were on the phone so Keith couldn’t see the delighted expression on her face. She summoned up her acting skills to deliver the appropriate distressed tone. “Oh my
God, Keith. That’s terrible. If something has happened to Belinda, I—”

Keith cut her off by finishing her sentence. “You don’t know what you’d do, right, Langley?”

The understudy caught the sarcasm but chose to ignore it. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

“Unless you know where Belinda is, the only thing you can do to help is be prepared to play Valerie tonight. We should meet at the theater this afternoon to go over some things.”

“Yes, of course, Keith. That’s a good idea.”

“One o’clock?”

“I’ll be there,” said Langley. She hung up the phone and went back to polishing her toenails.

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The crew car pulled into the parking lot outside the Warrenstown Police Station.

If she had been some kind of hard-hitting investigative reporter, Caroline would have been more confident of her abilities to deal with the local police force. But she was a film and theater critic. With Linus expecting her to follow through on Belinda’s disappearance, this wasn’t a time to make mistakes
because of inexperience. Lamar and Boomer were used to being out in the field, covering breaking news. The responsible thing to do was use their expertise.

She swallowed her pride and said, “I could use a little help here, guys.” As the two men looked at each other, she caught Boomer rolling his eyes.

“I’ll go in with you,” said Lamar with a sigh.

They got out of the car and walked toward the entrance.

“They probably aren’t going to tell us much, Caroline,” he said. “The cops are usually pretty tight-lipped about an ongoing investigation.”

“Well, we have to make the attempt,” she said. “Linus will want to know what the police are saying.”

The front desk stood on a raised platform. Behind it, a young uniformed officer looked down at them. “May I help you?” he asked.

Caroline introduced herself and the cameraman. “We’re with KEY News, and we’re here about Belinda Winthrop.”

The officer looked at them but didn’t volunteer any information.

Lamar stepped up. “What can you tell us about the report we’ve heard that Belinda Winthrop is missing?”

“Sorry, but I don’t have anything to tell you.”

“Well, we already know something is up. We were just out at her place, and your guys were out there, too.”

“What did they tell you?” the officer asked.

“Nothing,” Caroline piped up. “They told us to get off the property.” The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew she had made a mistake. From the corner of her eye, she
could see Lamar looking at her, thinking her, she imagined, a fool. The officer’s answer confirmed Lamar was right.

“Well, if they didn’t tell you anything and wanted you to get off the property, what would make you think that I would give you any information? My boss is out there, and if he isn’t ready to talk to the press, I’m certainly not going to.” The officer picked up some papers and tapped them on the desk to neaten them. “Besides, doesn’t the left hand know what the right hand is doing?”

“What do you mean?” asked Caroline.

“Somebody from KEY News already called about Belinda Winthrop. We didn’t give her any information either.”

Caroline felt her already flushed cheeks grow hotter. Of course, Linus didn’t trust her to handle this. She wasn’t really surprised, but it stung a little to think he’d had someone else check up on what was going on here when she was right on scene. Still, she was glad that he was taking her trip seriously.

“Can we ask you this?” said Lamar as he pulled out his wallet and took out a business card. “If you have any news or if you will be holding a press conference or something, would you please give us a call? My cell phone number is written on the back of the card.” He handed it up.

The cop took it. “No promises,” he said. “But I will tell you one thing. It’s not all that uncommon for someone to go out for a pack of cigarettes and never come back.”

As Caroline and Lamar turned away from the desk, a call came in on the radio.

“We’re doing a small search of the area to make sure Belinda Winthrop isn’t lying out there hurt. In the meantime, check with the North Adams Regional Hospital and the Berkshire Medical Center down in Pittsfield and see if she’s shown up in the emergency room.”

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What if the police came back and wanted to search his studio? They’d want to know what was behind the padlocked door. He’d have to give them the key and let them go down to the cellar. Remington’s chest tightened at the thought of it.

They’d see the portraits and know that he had lied. They’d know he’d collected the insurance money. They’d never believe his motives. They wouldn’t understand that he’d set the fire as a ruse so the public would think Belinda’s portraits had been destroyed. How could he explain that he just couldn’t stand the thought of all those strangers gawking at his beloved?

He tried hard not to look at magazines or newspapers or reruns of her old movies on television. It pained him to think that she was so exposed. All the world could read about her and look at
her and gossip about her. He hated that. Three years ago it had bothered him so much that he’d couldn’t play into the public’s fascination with Belinda any longer. That was when he’d come up with the idea of the fire. Over two nights, Remington had sneaked the portraits out from his old studio in town and stashed them in the back of his station wagon. He had then driven them to a storage facility in Albany. When he was through, he’d set the fire.

He hadn’t counted on Belinda being so upset at the loss. And when he’d told her that he couldn’t bring himself to paint her portrait again, she hadn’t realized the reason was that he didn’t want to share her with anyone, didn’t want to be part of the objectifying of Belinda Winthrop. She’d thought he was so destroyed by the loss of the portraits that he didn’t want to be reminded of it by painting her image again.

Belinda had made it her mission to bring Remington around, to make him want to work again. He was such a great talent, she told him. It would be wrong for him to give up his art. Her fondest wish, she said, was that he paint another portrait. She would help him get back on his feet. He could come live and work at Curtains Up.

Remington had luxuriated in her attention. He’d welcomed the opportunity to be able to live so close to Belinda when she came up to Warrenstown. He couldn’t say no to her, and finally, Remington had agreed to paint her again.

After she went back to New York at the end of the season, he took the paintings out of the storage facility and brought them to his new home. They were arranged in his special shrine to her in the cellar.

But now, they weren’t safe.

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Caroline and Lamar came out of the police station.

“Well?” asked Boomer as they climbed back into the car.

Caroline braced herself for Lamar’s account of her naïve performance, but for whatever reason, he cut her a break and didn’t embarrass her in front of Boomer.

“The cops plan on checking her property,” Lamar answered. “And checking the hospitals.”

As their car pulled out of the parking lot, Caroline’s cell phone sounded. It was Linus. “What’s going on up there?” he asked in his gruff tone.