Chapter 38
ALEX WENT BACK TO BOSTON LAST NIGHT BECAUSE HE HAS AN EARLY interview on a local morning show. I settle on the sofa and tune in. I’m still walking around in a daze. I want to think that my father is a good man, thoughtless maybe when young, but a good person now.
Upbeat bumper music plays and applause sounds. The set is small and adorned in blues and yellows. My father sits, legs crossed in a chair with a small, round table separating him from the host, a young, blond woman in a teal-colored dress.
“We are thrilled to have bestselling author Alex Spencer here with us today. Welcome back, Alex!” she says with a jaunty smile. She reminds me of a cheerleader I went to high school with. All pink cheeks and perfect white teeth.
“I’m so glad you asked me back,” Alex says. He looks neat and handsome, as usual, but there’s a slight pucker in his brow, a tenseness around his mouth.
“Last time was for the release of Killer on Kennesaw Mountain, which stayed on the bestseller list for a gazillion weeks! And now with last week’s release of Murder Amongst Witches, you’re back there again!”
“And I am so grateful, Caitlyn. Who knew thirty years ago when I sold my first manuscript that I’d still be here all these years later. I have to thank my loyal readers.”
“You give them quite a story each time. When I read your last book, I was surprised at how interesting a Civil War story could be. You really make history come alive in a way that is so accessible and entertaining. And your descriptions of the murders”—she visually shivers—“enough to give you nightmares.”
Alex smiles, taps his fingers on the arm of the chair.
“I almost literally devoured your new book,” Caitlyn continues. “I was so let down when I turned the last page and knew I’d have to wait another year for the next Alex Spencer novel!” Everything this woman says is full of excitement. I guess a requirement for someone on a TV talk show.
“Thank you, Caitlyn. Rest assured I’m working on it.”
“Any hints about what’s next?”
Alex tips his head, flashes his best smile. “Only that it takes place in the 1800s and the setting is here in the northeast again.”
“That brings me to my next question. What is it about the past that so intrigues you, and would you ever consider setting a novel in modern times?”
“Well, I’ve always loved history from the time I was a kid, and growing up in a historic Victorian home only fueled that interest.” Alex rushes on as if he’s sorry he mentioned the lake house.
Despite her adulation, he doesn’t want to give her an in into the investigations going on there.
“Besides, it’s tough to write a modern thriller these days because of technology.
DNA, surveillance video, which is everywhere.
That presents a huge challenge for mystery writers. ”
Caitlyn laughs. “Right. How does the murderer not get caught by the third chapter nowadays?”
“Exactly. If I set my stories in the past, I don’t have to worry so much. Today, something like the Jack the Ripper murders would probably be solved in short order. Even fingerprint evidence was still in its infancy then and not used in the courts.”
“I notice all of your books are set in the United States, feature American history. Any plans to go looking abroad for a story?”
“I do have an idea on the back burner, which would necessitate a trip to England. I haven’t been in a few years, and I’d really like to go, research of course.”
“Of course. What’s your idea? Can you tell us?”
“Well, I think I can give you the gist of it anyway. The history. I’ve always been fascinated by the mysterious death of Amy Robsart.”
Caitlyn bats her eyelashes. “Who?”
“The wife of Sir Robert Dudley. Dudley was Elizabeth I’s best friend and, many believe, the love of her life. But alas, Sir Robert was married. But then poor Amy was found at the bottom of a staircase with a broken neck.”
“Wow!”
“There was talk then, but nothing ever came of it. A titillating event, however, ripe for a novel of suspense.”
“I’d want to read that!”
Alex smiles again, but he doesn’t look like the relaxed, confident man he was when I first arrived at Cheshire Lake.
He fidgets with his shirt collar until he remembers that he’s on camera and tucks his hand away.
Caitlyn asks a few more innocuous questions, wrapping up the interview without touching on the scandals the media has been reporting surrounding Alex.
Maybe that was an agreement beforehand, or maybe just because of the type of show, a video version of a puff piece, the conversation doesn’t go there.
I click the remote and the screen goes black.
I hear a car next door and stand to peer out the window.
Noah’s back from Boston. I need to tell him about Carol and my nightmares.
The TV interview was a nice distraction, but with Noah back here at the lake, the full burden of what I remembered sends my stomach into knots.
I don’t want to think that my father had anything to do with what happened to Carol.
Did anything happen to Carol? I bite my lower lip and admit to myself that I’m frightened.
I watch as Noah slips his laptop bag over his shoulder and disappears up his porch steps.
I run my hands through my hair, pull, and grimace. I need to talk to Noah.