Read Lights Out Tonight Online
Authors: Mary Jane Clark
Lights Out Tonight (9 page)
“These are magnificent,” said Caroline. “You can tell the artist cares about his subject.”
Jean smiled. “That’s a bit of an understatement. Remington doesn’t just care about Belinda Winthrop; he adores her. He fell in love with her when they were young, and as his work attests, he’s never gotten over her.”
“That’s a bit sad, isn’t it?” Caroline stared at the portraits.
“Yes, I guess it is,” Jean agreed. “But look at the fabulous product of that emotion.”
“I suppose they are fabulously expensive, too.”
“They aren’t for sale,” said Jean. “Unfortunately, Remington won’t part with them. I wish he would. If he had sold the other paintings he’d done of Belinda over the years, they wouldn’t have been destroyed when his studio caught fire.”
“What a shame,” Caroline uttered softly.
“Oh, it was truly terrible,” said Jean. “The paintings were insured, of course, but no amount of money could make up for such a horrific loss.”
C H A P T E R
24
The first act of dress rehearsal had gone almost without a hitch. Keith Fallows had come backstage when the curtain fell, and as he delivered his notes to the cast and stage technicians, everyone felt a little more relaxed, a little more in control.
“All right, everybody,” Keith said. “We’ll go straight through till the end of act two, no matter what happens. We’ll meet here again afterward for my final notes. Now don’t forget. We’ll rehearse curtain calls, too, just to see how quickly we can all get onstage.”
When the curtain went up on the second act, Langley Tate stood in the wings at stage left with a copy of the script in hand, careful to stay out of the way of actors entering and exiting. The first two scenes went smoothly. As she had all night, Langley focused on only one person. The lights came up again, and Langley watched Belinda Winthop standing across the set from her stage husband. Then Langley turned her eyes down to the script.
ACT II, SCENE 3
The same room, some time later. The fireplace is lit and, along with a lone lamp on one of the bedside tables, it provides the room’s only light.
VALERIE
and
DAVIS
are at opposite ends of the room, squared off for battle.
| VALERIE: | What do you want from me, Davis? |
| DAVIS: | I do not want anything from you. What would ever make you think I needed you at all? |
| VALERIE: | Living with me, and making love to me, for fourteen years might have led me to suspect it. |
| DAVIS: | (Laughing.) Oh, that. You have confused need with convenience, I’m afraid. (Pause.) You have always been a little confused. It is a part of your charm. ( DAVIS walks to the other bedside table and turns on the lamp, speaking to VALERIE over his shoulder.) You have been looking a little tired lately, but you have been happy, have you not? |
| VALERIE: | Now you are the one who is confused, Davis. Happiness and fear are not the same thing—at least, not for the rest of us. |
| DAVIS: | Fear? |
| VALERIE: | Yes, fear. Maybe I am the only one. The only one who knows enough about you to know that fear is the only appropriate response to you. |
| DAVIS: | What is it you think you know, Valerie? ( DAVIS opens the drawer in his bedside table. He turns to face VALERIE .) Tell me, damn it. What do you think you know? |
| VALERIE: | I know that the scariest thing in the world is lying in bed next to someone who has sold his soul to the devil. |
| DAVIS: | I am flattered you thought I had a soul to sell. (Turning his back to VALERIE, DAVIS lifts a shiny pistol out of the drawer. VALERIE sees the pistol. She takes a step backward. DAVIS holds the gun loosely at his side.) |
| VALERIE: | Davis, I have known about the gun. You have kept it in that drawer for months so that I might lie here, night after night, afraid to close my eyes, afraid that, at any moment, you might put it to my temple and pull the trigger. |
| DAVIS: | Maybe I can convince you to pull the trigger yourself. Feel the cool steel, the smoothness. Listen to the click just before the end. Everyone would understand, you know. I would be sure to remind them, afterwards, how upset you have been lately. |
(DAVIS
moves to the bedroom door, blocking
VALERIE
’s exit.
VALERIE
opens the doors to the balcony.)
| VALERIE: | Enough, Davis. This is not funny anymore. Even for you. |
| DAVIS: | I agree. It is not funny, but it is fun to consider the possibilities. |
| VALERIE: | Why not divorce me, then? Or leave me. I won’t give you any trouble. |
| DAVIS: | But that would not work at all, dear. I have never been a failure at anything, Valerie. And I am certainly not going to let people think that I failed as a husband. (With menace.) Letting you go is completely out of the question. |
(VALERIE
turns toward the balcony and
EXITS. DAVIS,
still carrying the gun, follows
VALERIE
offstage. Lights dim to dark.)
C H A P T E R
25
Belinda stepped out of her green velvet gown, and Meg carefully hung it on the freestanding clothes rack. She folded and draped the petticoat over a wooden hanger and hung that alongside the gown.
“Oh, that feels good.” Belinda sighed as Meg loosened the corset strings. “How did women in the eighteen nineties live with these things?”
Meg took the corset and put it away, then busied herself with other things as Belinda stripped down, and dressed again in jeans and a form-fitting shirt with a plunging neckline.
“Here. Let me take that,” said Meg, reaching for the cotton tank top Belinda had worn under the corset. “I want to get it to the laundry.”
As Meg exited the dressing room, Langley Tate was waiting in the hallway to come inside. Meg hesitated just a second before continuing on to the laundry room. She couldn’t figure it out exactly, but something about Langley made Meg feel protective of Belinda. She didn’t want to leave the star alone with her understudy.
Meg dropped off the undergarment and turned to go back to the dressing room when her cell phone sounded. Checking the number, she knew she had to respond this time. There was no avoiding it. She was going to have to have dinner with her stepmother. But rather than answer the phone and have to talk with her, Meg waited until Caroline left a voice-mail message and then text-messaged a reply.
Belinda sat before the large mirror, wiping away her heavy stage makeup. Langley stood behind her, talking to Belinda’s reflection.
“You were wonderful tonight, Belinda.”
“Thanks, Langley.”
“In the second act, especially, I was scared to death. The way you portray Valerie coming to the realization that her husband is going to kill her is just so incredible, Belinda. I learn so much from watching you. All those years of experience just shine through.”
Removing the clips that fastened her upswept hair, Belinda
shook her head, and the ash-blond locks tumbled down. “You’re making me feel old, Langley.” She laughed.
Langley appeared concerned. “Oh no, Belinda. That’s not what I meant at all. It’s just that you have such breadth of experience. Your range is staggering. It makes me feel so inadequate.”
“Come on, Langley. You are very talented and you know it. You just need to give yourself more time.”
“Forgive me, Belinda, but that’s easy for you to say. When you were my age, you’d already won an Academy Award.”
MEET U @ THAI PLACE ON MAIN. MIDDLE OF BLOCK.
Meg snapped her cell phone closed and strode back to the dressing room. As she opened the door to go inside, she heard Langley Tate’s voice.
“I can only pray, when my turn comes, I’ll be able to do half as good a job as you do, Belinda.”
C H A P T E R
26
After the e-mail address and password were typed, and the Sign In button clicked, the fake account that the killer had set up as Amy’s mother opened on the laptop screen
.
There were no new messages.
No response from Brightlights. No answer from the person Amy had contacted in the moments before she died. The only person who could spoil everything.
C H A P T E R
27
They both ordered pad Thai.
“Well, there’s something we can agree on,” said Caroline as she closed the menu and handed it to the waiter.
Meg smiled weakly.
“And I know there’s something else we agree about.”
“What’s that?” Meg took a sip of water.
“We both love your father.”
Meg took another drink but didn’t answer.
Sensing she shouldn’t push any further at the moment, Caroline shifted the conversation. “So, how’s it going? Is the apprenticeship living up to your expectations?”
Meg shrugged. “I guess so.”
“Do you feel your acting is improving?”
“It’s hard to say,” Meg responded. “I’ve gone to the acting classes, but I haven’t gotten a part in any of the plays I’ve auditioned for.”
“I gather it’s a very rare thing for an apprentice actually to get a part in one of the Main Stage productions.”
“It is,” said Meg. “But I haven’t even gotten a part in any of the one-acts.”
The arrival of their dinner saved Caroline from having to give a lame pep talk—she was relieved to have the respite. She so wanted a good relationship with Meg, but their conversations were always so strained.
“Good, isn’t it?” asked Caroline after they’d both taken a few mouthfuls of noodles.
Meg nodded as she chewed.
Caroline tried again. “It’s an accomplishment that you’ve been picked to appear in the cabaret this weekend, Meg. I know your father is thrilled about that. He’s so excited about seeing you perform.”
“Well, I guess he would be after paying for all those acting and voice lessons.”
“He’s very proud of you, Meg. And he loves you very much.”
“I know that.” Meg pushed her plate away and sat back in her chair.
“That’s all you’re going to eat?” asked Caroline.
“I’m not that hungry.” “Don’t you feel well?”
“Honestly?” Meg asked. “Honestly, if you must know, I feel pretty sad. Two of the apprentices were killed in a car accident last weekend.”
“Yes, I read about that in the newspaper today,” said Caroline. “Did you know them very well?”
“I didn’t know the guy much, but I knew the girl. Amy and I were assigned to pick up cigarette butts and trash from the lawn in front of the theater the week we arrived, and I liked her right away. We’d been hanging out a lot together this summer.”
“I’m sorry, Meg. I really am,” said Caroline as she placed her fork at the side of her plate. “The paper said they had been smoking pot.”
“So?” Meg looked directly at her stepmother. “Does that make it any less sad? Does that mean they had it coming because they got high?”
“Of course not, Meg. I didn’t mean that at all. It was just an observation.”
As Caroline listened to her own response, she realized she was forever tiptoeing around her stepdaughter. Over the months she and Nick had dated and then been married, Caroline had tried to be patient, but she was getting tired of editing herself so as not to offend Meg in any way.