Evelyn had returned to the house after getting the director's message that she wasn't needed that day. What's more—no one would miss Cornelia. However much she exalted her role, it was not critical. Faith's own staff would be long gone by now and it would be hours before she was expected at home. Cornelia opened her eyes.
“Faith, I think I can get up. I'm certain I should go to a doctor and have some stitches put in. It's been dear of you to take care of me like this.' But, implied Ms. Stuyvesant, let's get the show on the road.
“We can't. She's locked us in. No one is going to hear me from here, so it's pointless to shout. Plus, my crew has gone. I stayed behind to do some last-minute things. Face it—we're stuck.”
Cornelia burst into tears. Faith had seen her maddeningly happy, in a temper, miffed, but never crying. Corny turned out to be one of the noisy, gloppy kind. Soon her sobs were hiccups and her nose began to run. Faith shoved some tissues in her old chum's hand to stem the tide. It had to be over Max. But it wasn't.
“You're being so good to me and I've been so rotten to you,' Cornelia gasped.
“There, there. That was all years ago. Don't even think about it,' Faith assured her. She ought to see whether Evelyn had any Tylenol in the bathroom for poor Corny's head.
“No, it wasn't!' Cornelia wailed. 'Two weeks ago. I did it. I put the Chocolax in your black bean soup!”
“What!'
“Max liked you so much, and all he could talk about was how good your food was. It was school all over again. Everybody liked you better. You always got whatever you wanted. I thought people would just get a little sick and you'd be off the picture.'
“Corny, you could have ruined my business! Not to mention how much pain you caused everyone.'
“I know, I was sick, too, remember. I had to eat; otherwise, everyone would have known who did it. I also put it in Evelyn's soup— which served her right—when I took her the tray, so there would be no question but that it was the caterer's fault.”
The woman must have been mad. 'And you set the fire?'
“It was a very little one. I was a Scout, you know. There was no danger.”
Evelyn O'Clair, a murderer. Cornelia Stuyvesant, an arsonist and food poisoner. What a casting call!
“You were jealous of Sandra, too. It was you who put the drapery fabric in the barn. Admit it.' Faith was really angry.
f Cornelia had been other than flat on her back, she would have hung her head.
“I felt terrible about that after she died. I only wanted to ruin her reputation, not hurt her.”
Faith remembered something Corny had said about the other movie. 'Was it you who upset that PA on the Maggot Morning shoot so she would quit?'
“No, that must have been Evelyn,' Cornelia said speculatively.
The two were quite a pair.
Faith sighed. Cornelia's confession had cleared up some things, but it wasn't getting them out of the trailer —an impulse that had taken on additional meaning. Faith Sibley Fairchild didn't want to spend a moment longer than was necessary with her fellow alum.
“I'll look for something to help your pain and try to figure out how we're going to attract someone's attention way out here'
“See the problem? Why do you have to be so nice? It simply isn't fair!' Cornelia started to weep again.
“Would it make things easier if I smacked you one?' Faith had a moment's fiendish hope for a reply in the affirmative.
“No. And you may not believe this, but all I ever wanted when we were young was to be one of your friends and go to your house.' Tears again. Faith hadn't thought things could get any worse, yet they were. Now she was feeling guilty.
“Just lie still. I'll be right back.'
“Evelyn seemed to have every medication known to man or woman in the cabinet under her dressing table. Many of the vials were from the clinic in Switzerland, and Faith had a hunch that was where Evelyn had obtained her lethal quantities of chloral. A trinket or two to the right orderly and Ms. O'Clair had her very own Rexall's. Faith passed over the Darvon, attractive as the idea of Corny passed out was, and went straight for the Tylenol. It was possible that Cornelia had a concussion, so Faith had to keep her conscious.
She looked around, trying to think of some way to let people know they were trapped. It was getting late and soon everyone would be leaving for the weekend.
All Evelyn's cosmetics were neatly arranged on the top of the dressing table. It took an enormous amount of effort to be so beautiful. Faith's eyes lingered on a large bottle of nail polish remover. She'd been thinking of smoke signals ever since Cornelia had mentioned her fire in the barn. There weren't any oily rags around, but Faith could make the equivalent.
She got a tumbler of water and gave Cornelia the pill, advising she remain as quiet as possible. Then she went back and started to ransack Evelyn's closet. It would be a sacrilege to burn some of these things—a lovely black Bill Blass evening gown, for instance. But Faith had no compunction about the Hester costumes—and flimsy rags they were. She put the stopper in the sink, stuffed the garments in, and poured polish over the whole thing, leaving it to soak in.
Next, she had to find something for a torch. She planned to throw the clothes far enough away from the trailer to avoid incinerating it—thereby lessening alumni donations to Dalton by two—and needed something she could ignite. The latest issue of Variety, well thumbed, was lying on the floor by the bed. It would do nicely. Now all she needed were some matches. Evelyn wasn't a smoker—or was she?
The stash was in the bottom drawer of the built-in dresser in the other room, carefully concealed—by someone with a sense of humor, probably not Evelyn—in a hollowed-out copy of The Valley of the Dolls. There they were. Lots of nice neat little joints—and matches from Spago.
Laxatives, purgatives, emetics, uppers, downers, and everything in between—no wonder the woman was nuts.
Faith went back to her soaking garments and made a bundle that she fastened with dental floss so it wouldn't come apart when she heaved the whole thing out the window. She tied the Variety into a roll with more floss and dipped it into the puddle of nail polish remover left in the sink, then went into the other room. These windows faced the direction of the house and there were fewer trees on this side. Faith didn't want the whole town of Aleford blaming her for burning down the conservation-land forest.
She opened the window and threw the clothes as far away as she could. Then she lit the torch carefully. When MOM EXECS NIX X PIX was blazing, Faith pitched the paper out onto the pile of clothes. It took a very long minute, but the fabric caught and soon the crackling flames sent up a welcome column of dark black smoke. It wasn't as noticeable against the dull late-afternoon sky as she would have wished, yet someone was sure to spot it.
She realized that Cornelia had been oddly silent during this frenzy of activity, not even reacting to the strong smell of smoke and acetone permeating the trailer. Her eyes were closed. Desperately hoping she had merely fallen asleep, Faith grabbed for Corny's pulse and was immediately relieved to find it as slow and steady as one of her prize horses. Cornelia Stuyvesant was dead to the world, but not dead.
She tried to wake her and was rewarded with a mumbled response. Corny's eyes opened. Faith didn't want to shake her or try to move her to a sitting position, so she let her be for the moment.
Faith moved back to her post at the window to be ready to shout for all she was worth at the slightest indication of movement. To her horror, she discovered that the wind had blown her neat little parcel back toward them, where it was rapidly enkindling all the dry grass in sight. The flames were already starting to lick the side of the RV and the heat scorched her face as she leaned out for a closer look.
The plan had backfired.
Before anyone found them, they were going to be burned alive.
Faith raced around the trailer, desperately looking for a container to hold water. All she came up with was the bathroom tumbler and a small carafe. She filled both and emptied the contents on the raging flames. It was like peeing in the ocean.
