Episode #148 - A mystery hovers over Collinwood, hovers like some dark bird of night. And the more light that is brought to the mystery, the darker it becomes. Several people will follow that light today--only to find it leading deeper into darkness.
Frank Garner's office on the docks, which looks exactly like Roger's - Are you sure? Frank Garner asks Lt. Riley, the cop investigating Laura's death. The Arizona authorities are sure, replies Riley. If this is what they're thinking, why didn't they contact you? asks Frank--you're with the State police. Why should they? Riley asks. But if they suspect, says Frank. They don't suspect, at least the phraseology of their reports hasn't yet arrived at that particular word, Riley says. What do you mean? asks Frank--that they're on to something and they don't want to go into it right away--exactly what did they say? They said that in the death of the woman they identified as Laura Collins, there's a possibility--an outside possibility--that she was murdered, answers Riley.
Murdered? asks Frank. It's a far out possibility, but it is a possibility, says Riley--the Arizona police have a dead body on their hands--so far the events leading up to the cause of death haven't been determined. Don't they just assume the cause of death or be asphyxiation? asks Frank. That's the logical assumption, agrees Riley, but it's just possible the woman who died might have been incapacitated in some way before the fire started. Does that seem likely? asks Frank. She died behind locked doors, says Riley, she made no apparent effort to escape--that could be a reason for a murder theory. I'm glad to hear you use the word theory, says Frank. Of course it's a theory, says Riley--so far--considering the circumstances of her death, I'm sure there are many theories being investigated. Couldn't this woman have been overcome by smoke before she could reach the door? queries Frank. It's a possibility, says Riley. It's more than a possibility, says Frank, it's the most logical explanation. Maybe, says Riley. Allow me to remind you, says Frank, that a murder charge requires proof of motive and opportunity. You don't have to remind me of anything, says Riley, no charge has been filed. But you are considering the possibility or murder, says Frank. The Arizona police are considering it, says Riley. Why? asks Frank, have they established a motive for murder?--it's absurd--they don't even know the identity of the victim, much less her relationship with Laura Collins. They do know Laura Collins has a history of mental disturbance, says Riley--that suggests a woman capable of violence. (unfair; she is supposedly cured.) It seems to be you're reaching very far, remarks Frank, arms crossed over his chest. I'd be inclined to agree with you, says Riley, if it wasn't for two puzzling facts we have to face--one, we've placed the source of the fire to Laura Collins' apartment--it started in the kitchen, they think gas from the stove ignited and set off the rest of the room. That could have been an accident, points out Frank. Could have been, says Riley. What's your other fact? asks Frank. Laura Collins claims she left Phoenix five days before the fire, right? says Riley--we've tried to run down that story, checked out the airlines, bus lines, we haven't been able to find one witness that remembers her. What's so unusual about that--thousands of people travel by bus and rail every day, says Frank--it would be easy for a lone woman to go unnoticed. I'd be inclined to agree with that, says Riley--if we hadn't come up with a witness who tells a completely different story
--there's a woman who lives in Laura Collins' apartment building in Phoenix--she claims she saw Laura Collins--on the day of the fire!
Vicki arrives at Burke's apartment. Come in, he says, glad you could stop by. It would have cause a disaster if you'd come up to Collinwood, she says. He takes her coat and offers her coffee. She says she'd love one, and they go into the kitchen. Burke checks the percolator. What important thing did you want to see me about? she asks him. After you left yesterday, he says, taking down cups and saucers, I became a little concerned about your attitude toward Laura--I've been giving it a great deal of thought, and you can take my word for it--Laura Collins is a remarkable woman--you have nothing to fear--there's nothing to be mistrusted about her. I don't understand you at all, says Vicki. Is it so unusual for a man to admit he was wrong? asks Burke. No, says Vicki, but yesterday, you said the exact opposite. Yesterday I went a little overboard, he says, I've been thinking it over and I realize I was a little harsh with her--unfair. I'm a little confused, she says, watching him pour coffee. Why? he asks. Because yesterday you said she was strange, says Vicki, and today you're talking about Laura Collins as if she's the perfect woman. Laura is a troubled, lonely woman, he says, and anything anyone can do to make life easier for her, it should be done. What made you change your mind? she asks (and I hear a hint of jealousy). I told you, he says, pouring cream, I thought it over. He hands her a cup. You're the one person who can help her, says Burke. They move into the living room. Me? asks Vicki, I'm the last one in the world--it's up to Roger and Mrs. Stoddard whether she can be allowed to take David away with her or not. And Laura won't be able to do that unless David is willing to go along with her, says Burke as they sit down--Elizabeth's rule, right? Yes, says Vicki, but I can't make up David's mind for him--you know David. Burke smiles ruefully. I know him, he says--I've become very fond of him. So have I, says Vicki. I know, says Burke, and we both want to do what's right for him. And what's right for David is his mother--is that what you're saying? asks Vicki. Yes, says Burke, and you can bring them together--David should know what a warm, wonderful mother she is. I don't like to bring this up, says Vicki--but yesterday, you told me how you used to feel about Laura before she married Roger. I'm not ashamed of that, says Burke--neither is she--we loved each other. But she married Roger, Vicki reminds him--that was quite a shock to you, wasn't it? Yes, he says. You couldn't believe she could do such a thing, could you? asks Vicki. Are you suggesting she couldn't be trusted then, and shouldn't be now? asks Burke. Of course not, says Vicki, rising, I know that people change. Well? asks Burke. I'm not talking about Laura Collins, I'm talking about you, because of the way you used to feel about her, you couldn't see her clearly--perhaps that's true now. No it's not, he says firmly, I have no doubts about Laura--about her sincerity or love for David. Are you sure that you know her so well? asks Vicki--I mean the woman she is now. I know her, says Burke firmly, I know her better than anyone else in this world.
Burke helps Vicki into her coat. Then you will do what you can to help Laura, he says. I'll do what I can to help David, she promises. You're hedging, he says, taking her hands in his for a moment. Can't help it, she insists. He sighs. Laura's changed, he says, she's not what she was before. I'm not concerned with what she was before, says Vicki, buttoning her coat--I'm concerned with what she is now. And what is she now? he asks. I don't know, she says--I don't understand her. Well if you don't understand her, says Burke, are so uncertain about her, do you think you should make judgments about her? I'm not making judgments, says Vicki. Not helping her is the same as making a judgment, insists Burke. Aren't I allowed a little confusion? asks Vicki. What reason have you to be confused? asks Burke, it's just what I've been telling you! Because you don't give me any reason except your own feelings, which seem to change from day to day, accuses Vicki. (get him!) Can't a guy change his mind? asks Burke. Why did you change your mind? demands Vicki. I thought it over, he says, I decided I was wrong! You only thought it over, she says. Vicki, drop it, he orders, pissed off now. She heads for the door, then turns. I'm sorry, she says. He takes her hand and apologizes back. So am I, he says, holding her hand and patting it with the other--listen to what I have to say--you have a lot of reason not to trust me, but trust me about Laura--or at least try. All right, she says, trying to pull her hand from his, I have to go now.
You don't look very convinced, he points out. She smiles. Can't help the way I look, she says, smiling, pulling her hand away--"Good bye."
Let's get one thing straight, says Frank to Riley, you have no basis for accusing Laura Collins of anything--it's just supposition. Of course it is, says Riley, I tried to make that clear. And there's a very good possibility that she will never be accused of anything, states Frank. Unless we come up with some evidence, says Riley. Which isn't likely, says Frank. Your client can feel secure--for the time being, agrees Riley--we're going to need her for more questioning--well, I'll be going. Thanks for dropping by, says Frank. Riley takes his coat and hat. Not at all, he says, you were right to be filled in on the facts. The phone rings; Frank excuses himself. Would you ask her to wait a minute? Frank tells his secretary. Tell her to wait less than a minute, advises Riley, coat over his arm, hat on, I'm practically out the door. Thanks again, says Frank, for everything. Thank me for the facts--that's all you got, says Riley, and goes. Frank speculates. Vicki comes in, smiling. How are you, come in, he invites, glad to see her. Are you busy? she asks, I didn't want to barge in and disturb you. No, no, I'm glad to see you, he assures her, smiling hugely. Good, she says, I'll only stay a minute--I need some advice. Anytime, he says, and asks her to sit down. She does, unbuttoning her coat, asking if that was Lt. Riley that just left. Yes, it was, he says. I know this is none of my business, she says, but what was he doing here? (when did that ever stop her?) I had an appointment to see him in his office this afternoon, says Frank, and as the lawyer for the Collins family, I felt I should find out all I could involving the death of Laura Murdoch Collins--but anyway, the lieutenant was in the neighborhood, so he stopped by to see me. Have they identified that woman yet, the one who died? she asks. Not yet, says Frank. Was he able to tell you anything new? she asks. Yes, he gave me the facts, says Frank, and I don't like what they all add up to.
No, says Burke defiantly into the phone, I will not be at Logansport tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow, I very likely will not be at Logansport the day after the day after tomorrow--you'll have to handle it without me--that's what you're paid for. (sounds like he doesn't much care about his new business.) Someone knocks. It's Carolyn. Tell him that the offer stands, says Burke into the phone, don't worry--if they don't like it, it's tough--I'll call you later in the week. Carolyn slips off her coat, listening to him. Burke hangs up and greets her. She feels his forehead and cheek and says, with mock solicitousness, you don't feel like you have a fever--I thought you caught a chill--I was thinking of sending over hot broth. Oh, and who told you I'd caught a chill? asks Burke. Have you forgotten? she asks, I haven't seen or heard from you since you disappeared into the cold night air, suitcase in hand--now the distance between the house and my Aunt Laura's cottage isn't that far--but it's far enough to catch your death--I was terribly worried about you! And while you were terribly worried, explains Burke, I was terribly busy--I have a business to run. And I know you can run it with both hands tied behind you, she accuses. I'm sorry, says Burke. Are you? she asks. I'm sorry--and busy, he says. Being busy seems to date from that trip to the cottage, she says, tipping her head up. You know, he says, taking her face in his hands, it's been a long time since I've thrown a young, beautiful girl out of my room, but this looks like it's going to be one of those special situations. He holds her in his arms, against his chest. I miss you, Burke, she murmurs, as he caresses her hair. I'm sorry, I've been busy, he says again. She pulls away from him, furious. Stop saying you're busy! she orders--I didn't come here for an apology. She stands behind the sofa. What did you come here for? he asks, sitting on the sofa. I'm beginning to wonder, she says.
That woman was not Laura Collins, that much we know, Frank tells Vicki. If only they could identify that woman it might clear up the whole thing, says Vicki. They're working on that now, he says, dental records, blood samples and everything. Could she have been a thief? suggests Vicki. That's a possibility, says Frank--but how did she get a key to that apartment?--that room was locked from the inside. Somebody must have had a key, says Vicki. We know something now that throws that whole robbery thing out of kilter, he says--someone was seen or possibly seen near that apartment the night of the fire. Then they think it could have been a murder? asks Vicki, standing. It is a possibility, says Frank. And the person they suspect, says Vicki, is that the person seen near the apartment? Yes, he says. That's awful, says Vicki. The identification was made by a Mrs. Henworthy, says Frank--she's rather elderly and her sight isn't what it used to be, and she says she could have been mistaken. Was it somebody that Mrs. Collins knows? asks Vicki. Yes, he says, I'm afraid it is. Who? asks Vicki . Let me remind you again that murder is only an outside possibility, he says. Who is it? she repeats. Laura Collins, he says. That's impossible, says Vicki, Mrs. Collins left Phoenix five days before that fire! Did she? asks Frank. She said she did, says Vicki. I know what she says, he tells her, but is she telling the truth--that's the question. Vicki looks perturbed at the possibilities
Carolyn paces in front of Burke as he sits. He sit on the sofa and patiently watches. She's biting her finger. Will you calm down and listen to what I have to say? he asks. No I don't think I will, she says. I give up, he says. What does that mean? she asks. I'm not going to argue with you, he insists. So I'm supposed to just STAY! she asks. He pulls her down beside him. We've had good times together, he reminds her, some of the best times I've ever had in my life. This sounds suspiciously like a farewell speech, she says angrily. Well I think maybe it would be best if we didn't see each other again, he says. Best for whom, she asks, rising, arms crossed over her chest--for you and my Aunt Laura? He stands. Best for you, he says. Maybe my mother and Uncle Roger were right, she says--you were only using me--and now you've found someone else to use, is that it. Stung, he tells her to think whatever she wants to. She wraps her arms around his neck. Please, we're so right, she murmurs, clinging to him, you know we are. Carolyn, he says, caressing her hair, we were never right--and you know it. She drops her arms, releasing him--who is right, you and my Aunt Laura? she asks nastily. Laura has nothing to do with this, he says, it had to happen someday. And it's just coincidence that it happens right after your reunion with her, she says. Look, I'm not the kind of man who has to explain himself to you or anyone, insists Burke. You don't have to explain anything to me, she agrees, I've known all week--do you see her often? Burke, ashamed, doesn't reply. I know you do, says Carolyn, in a way, you surprise me--all my aunt had to do was toss you the slightest glance and you were done for. I'm trying to keep this on a sane, adult level, he says. Sane? she asks--adult? Neither would describe you--do I have to remind you that my Aunt Laura is still my Uncle Roger's wife? No you don't! he says angrily--for the last time, leave Laura out of this. How can I, cries Carolyn, when she's responsible for every word you say?
Then I have no more words to say, he tells her. I have, she says, just one--good-bye. And she grabs her coat and leaves.
I can't believe it! Vicki tells Frank--do they really believe there's a chance Mrs. Collins may be a murderer? This is just guesswork, says Frank, with nothing behind it--you have to remember that. Yes of course, says Vicki. You seem upset, he says, let me taker you home. You don't have to do that, she says, I'm all right. But I want to, he says--listen when you came in, you said you wanted to ask my advice about something. Yes, she says, smiling. I'm sorry I forgot about it completely, he says, what was it? I'm not sure I need it now, she says--before I came here, I saw Burke Devlin, he called me at Collinwood and asked me to meet him, he said he had something to tell me--he wanted to tell me he changed his mind about Mrs. Collins, that he had no doubts she was a fine, wonderful woman. She may be, says Frank, we don't know. He seemed so different, says Vicki--he not only changed his mind, but HE seemed changed--so willing to believe Mrs. Collins, no matter what--beyond all reason. That happens to a man when he's in love, points out Frank. Vicki looks unhappy to hear this. I had the feeling it was something different from love, she says. You seem very interested in Burke Devlin, notes Frank. She grins. I'm just trying to figure him out, she says--he asked me to do him a favor--he wants me to do everything I can to help Mrs. Collins get David. I see, says Frank. You don't really think she's a murderer, do you? asks Vicki. I don't know, admits Frank--I don't think so, not really. Perhaps I should encourage David, says Vicki, after all he needs a mother, and we would be wrong to judge Mrs. Collins without being sure
--wouldn't we? He looks at her. Is that what you really think? he asks. No, admits Vicki, at this point, I may be right, I may be wrong, but I'm going to do everything I can to keep her away from David.
NOTES: Vicki's going on instincts here, wisely. She senses something is out of whack and that David needs protection. I wonder if Laura put some sort of love spell on Burke, who DOES seem different. Part of his plan to ruin the Collinses involved breaking Carolyn's heart, but I sense this is far ahead of schedule on his part.
Did Laura kill the woman found in the fire? Could it have been the blonde cleaning lady she mentioned once? How could Laura Collins have been killed in the fire if the woman in Collinsport is so easily accepted as the Laura they once knew? How does this tie in with David's insistence that this woman is not her mother?
Who does Vicki like better, Burke or Frank? She did seem jealous over Burke's change of heart towards Laura, and even Frank took notice. Is she going to spoil her chance to be a rich, cute lawyer's wife?
Is this really the final split for Burke and Carolyn? Does he prefer Laura, or does he just want to woo her in order to reopen his trial? Or is there something even more sinister behind it? Does she, who is obviously a supernatural creature, have an otherworldly hold on him?
Episode #149 - It is night at Collinwood, a night that will prove to be disquieting. One man feels an unexplainable restlessness. (Sam paces his cottage.) And a young girl faces bitter rejection. (Carolyn angrily storms into Collinwood and takes off her coat.) I was wondering who slammed the door, says Vicki, exiting the kitchen. I'd like to slam a lot more than that, says Carolyn, furious. What's the matter? asks Vicki. Nothing, says Carolyn, stomping into the drawing room. Are you angry with me? asks Vicki. I'm angry with the world, says Carolyn. Including me? asks Vicki. No, says Carolyn, not including you--although you started it off. I did?--I don't understand, says Vicki. The things you said about Burke, Carolyn reminds her. I just told you how I. . .begins Vicki--did you go and see him? Yes, I saw him, all right, says Carolyn, and wish I hadn't--all those things you said about him are true--I don't understand it, I just don't. What did he say to you? asks Vicki. Everything I didn't want to hear, says Carolyn, miserable--it was as if someone were telling him what to say. Vicki stares at her, puzzled.
Telling him what to say? asks Vicki. He just didn't sound like himself, says Carolyn--his personality seems to have changed--his point of view, his attitude--and his attitude toward me--when will I stop making a fool of myself? How did you make a fool of yourself this time? asks Vicki, as the girls sit down in drawing room chairs. The usual way, says Carolyn--throwing myself at him, demanding declarations of love, all that sort of thing. I wish you wouldn't do that, says Vicki. I like to know where I stand, says Carolyn. Did you find out? asks Vicki. Carolyn nods. Yes, she says--he told me, and then really told me--oh, I wish I hadn't gone up there, but I would have been living in a dream--he said I'd gone out of style--for him. He said that? asks Vicki. Those were my words--his feelings, says Carolyn, I'll tell you something--I'd have expected him to say something that would hurt, that would bite and leave me with a scar forever. Instead, he left you off painlessly, says Vicki. Dumped me is the expression, says Carolyn. You'll get over it, says Vicki. Sure, says Carolyn, I'll get over it, all right--I'm just not sure what it would take. Maybe it would take a new man, suggests Vicki--someone completely different. (Monty Python?) No, says Carolyn, it will take something quite different to forget it--it will take seeing Burke choke on what he thinks is a feast--guess who beat me in the Burke Devlin sweepstakes? Laura Collins, says Vicki. Right in the winner's circle, says Carolyn--I suppose an old love is the toughest for a man to get over--whatever he felt for her years ago is back again--double. Are you sure? asks Vicki. (more jealousy?)
With a man, that's the easiest thing to be sure of, says Carolyn sadly, it shows all over him, everything he said dripped of Laura Collins--I don't think he thinks about anything else--I know I didn't fill his mind like that. Maybe it's for the best, suggests Vicki. No, it isn't, says Carolyn, I'll tell you something--she may fill his mind, but I'll see to it she doesn't fill his life.
Sam reaches for the booze, but can't get a good grip on it because of his heavily bandaged hands. He looks at the unfinished, damaged painting of Laura and shakes his head, then stares out the window. Maggie comes home and greets her father. I had to work late, she says, big rush at the last minute--three people. That's all right, he says as she hangs up her coat. Did you eat anything? she asks. No, he says. Why not? she demands, concerned. I wasn't hungry, he says. She offers to fix something now, but he tells her not to bother. No trouble, she assures him. I don't want anything to eat, he insists. You should have something, says Maggie. I'm not hungry now, he says peevishly. How do your hands feel today? She asks. The right one isn't too bad, he says, the left one hurts--throbs. It will take a while before they'll be back to normal, she says. If they ever will, he says. They will, says Maggie, the doctor says you'll be painting soon. And what will I be painting? he asks. The usual, she says casually--seascapes, portraits...maybe some new ideas. You sure I won't be doing Laura Collins in some various interpretations of fire? he asks harshly. I'm sure you won't, she says. I appreciate your confidence, he says, but it will be a long time before I face another fresh canvas--if I can ever get myself to face it. You can't allow yourself to talk or think that way, protests Maggie--you've been through a bad period--one of those pictures has already been destroyed--so it's all over and done with. Is it? he asks--can you tell me how that second painting burned?--the fire started here--he indicates the floor next to the sofa--the painting was over there--what I want to know is, how did the fire get from here over to there? Some sparks probably flew across the room, says Maggie. The canvas had a cover on it, says Sam--it was not burned! Freak accident, they happen all the time, she says. No, he says, that painting was deliberately destroyed--I'll tell you something else--the other painting will be destroyed soon. How can you say that? she asks. It's been on my mind, all day, he says, it's going to be up in flames, I can see it. We see a close-up of his terror-filled eyes, superimposed over fire.
I tell you, says Sam, I know what I'm talking about! Pop, says Maggie, you've got to take it easy--too much has been happening. Don't you think I know what I'm talking about? he asks. I'm just repeating what the doctor said, she says--you're suffering from anxiety and you've got to take it easy. Tranquilizers aren't going to solve my problem, insists Sam. What is the problem? she asks. I don't know, he says, I've been having these strange feelings, something forced me to paint a subject that's foreign to me--now I have the sensation that something is pushing me--I have this urge to go up to Collinwood--the painting is there--I feel I have to see the painting--all day long, I've been seeing the unfinished portion, seeing it as clearly if it were in this room--I can see it being sketched, see the lines being put into it--I can see the painting, the lines and colors, see it completing itself! Please don't talk about it anymore, says Maggie. I've got this feeling, he tells her, that the painting will be completed today. Impossible! she says. I've got the feeling I'll know what goes into that painting, that it's important that I know! he cries. Take it easy, she says. The painting--it's being completed! he blares, wild-eyed. It can't be! she says. I'm telling you it is! he shouts--I've got to see it!
David's room - The camera pans on the painting, which glows eerily.
Vicki follows Carolyn to the window in the drawing room and tells her she mustn't be so vindictive. Carolyn crosses her arms over her chest. I've just been jilted, pouts Carolyn--you don't mind if I feel something, do you? Of course you should feel something, says Vicki, but you should also pull back on your desire to get even. Would I do a thing like that? asks Carolyn. Yes, replies Vicki. Carolyn shakes her head--you overestimate me, she says. Roger enters and demands to know who's overestimating his dear niece. Vicki is, says Carolyn. Shame on you, says Roger, Carolyn can do anything and so it's impossible to overestimate her. Speaking of people who can do anything, grins Vicki, I'm going to see what David is doing. She leaves. Uncle Roger you are my entire fan club, says Carolyn, kissing his cheek--you appreciate everything I do. With few exceptions, he says. You mean Burke? she asks. He's a perfect exception, says Roger. I hope your approval of me is about to be made complete, she says--Mr. Devlin has gone his way, and I've gone mine. You've finally seen the light, have you? he asks. Not the light, she says, the door--Mr. Devlin showed me the door. Oh, kicked you out, says Roger. Uncle Roger, she chastises, even Mr. Devlin phrased it more delicately than that. Mr. Devlin, says Roger, had a change of heart? That's exactly what it was, says Carolyn--his heart--he took it away from me and gave it to someone else. My deepest sympathies and congratulations, he teases her. He's gone on to what he considers bigger and better things, she says. Oh, and who is the lucky recipient this time? asks Roger. Someone very close, says Carolyn. I think I know exactly who you're going to say, Roger tells her. Then say it for me, says Carolyn. Roger, his head very close to hers, says, "Mr. Devlin has surrendered his heart to your Aunt Laura." You certainly take the triangles well, you didn't bat an eye, says Carolyn. Why should I? asks Roger, Burke is being his old, predictable self. I'll tell you something, says Carolyn, if you could see Burke Devlin from a woman's point of view, you'd worry.
The painting in David's room glows. Josettes's ghost appears,
turns, gazes at the painting, drifts toward it, reaches out to touch it.
Roger pours himself a drink. Whatever Burke feels about Laura is no concern of mine, he tells Carolyn, because I know both of them so well. I'm with you, she says, I'd like to see Burke get the short end for a change. You will, my dear, he says, have no fear--I assure you. Vicki enters. Did you find David? Roger asks her. Yes, says Vicki, he went shopping in town with Mrs. Johnson. How did you ever get him to go with her? asks Roger sourly. It took a lot of persuading and is going to cost you a set of toy soldiers, says Vicki. It was worth it to get him out of the house, says Roger, he's had a fixation for that hideous painting, keeps staring at it by the hour. Can't you get it away from him? asks Carolyn, now seated on the sofa. Roger sits beside her. I tried to, he says, but he caught me at it, made all the threats that his crafty little mind could muster. He's not here now, says Carolyn--why don't you get rid of it now, while you have the opportunity? That would be a terrible thing to do! says Vicki--it would take him a long time to get over that!--I've wanted to get rid of it myself--don't think I don't feel guilty because it was me that brought it here. Why did you bring it here? asks Carolyn. I don't know, says Vicki--I didn't like that painting--but when I saw that Mr. Evans was going to take it off the easel and throw it out, something made me want it. I know, you're the type who can't stand to see anything thrown away, says Carolyn. That's not it at all, says Vicki--I don't know, I had to have it. None of us is perfect, my dear, soothes Roger. Vicki volunteers to answer the knock at the door. It's probably Mrs. Johnson, remarks Roger, she's the type to forget her key. It's Sam. This is a surprise, Vicki says--come in. Sam tells her he wants to see Roger. He's inside, says Vicki--I heard about your accident... Yeah, the accident, says Sam. Vicki takes his coat and asks if his hands are all right. They're still attached to my arms, that's about all they're good for, he says--do you still have the painting? It's still hanging in David's room, says Vicki. Why didn't you let me get rid of it? asks Sam. I don't know, admits Vicki, I wish now I'd had, I'm beginning to regret it. I've got to talk to Roger, says Sam. He's right in here, says Vicki, leading Sam in. Mr. Evans would like to talk to you, she says. Hello, Evans, says Roger, rising to his feet. Sorry I'm intruding, says Sam, I'll only be a minute. That's good, says Roger--can I offer you a drink, or are you unable to hold a glass? No thanks, says Sam (hey, this just might force him on the wagon, so it's a somewhat good thing), some other time, if you don't mind--I came about the painting, I wonder if I could see it. What on earth for? asks Roger. I don't know, says Sam, I just have this feeling that I've got to see it. Do you make a habit of visiting places where your paintings are hung? asks Roger. No, seriously, says Sam, it's important that I see the painting--I'm sure you can do that for me. Roger looks unhappy. I suppose so, he says--I suppose while David isn't here, we could borrow it for a minute--Vicki, would you go up and bring the masterpiece down so the artist can gaze upon it? Certainly, says Vicki, leaving the room. Thanks, says Sam, I appreciate that. Is it your ego that makes you want to see this picture? asks Roger, perplexed--you're sober now, and even more difficult to understand. Not ego, says Sam, something that made me want to see it, I don't know what, but I hope to find out.
Vicki enters David's room. She gazes around as if feeling a presence and walks to the middle of the room, standing there for a long moment. She turns to the portrait and screams. The blank space in the portrait is filled now--with David's face!
Vicki's scream travels to the drawing room. It's Vicki! says Carolyn. It came from upstairs, says Roger, and they all run to the foot of the stairs, calling Vicki, asking what's wrong. Vicki runs down, painting in one hand--the painting, look at it! she cries, holding it up--it's finished. She balances it on the foyer table. I knew it! says Sam--I knew it! Look, says Carolyn. It's unmistakably David, says Roger. It was just hanging there on the wall with a strange glow of light around it! says Vicki.
What does this mean? Roger demands of Sam. I don't know, says Sam. I saw this painting earlier this morning, says Roger, and it wasn't completed. Sam touches the painting. It's dry! he proclaims. (how he could tell through those thick bandages is beyond me.) What about it? asks Roger. The painting is dry--you couldn't have seen this empty space this morning, insists Sam. I saw it empty, says Vicki. It's oil, says Sam--it takes days for that to dry! How do you explain it? asks Roger, taking the painting into his hands and heading into the drawing room. I can't--I don't know what to say, says Sam. You must know something, says Roger, setting up the painting on a chair--you didn't just come here by coincidence! Sam stares at the painting. I don't know what it was, he says, I only knew the painting was finished--all day, I could see it going through my mind, see the empty space, see the lines coming in, I could see a face, but I couldn't make it out. Why is David's face in it? asks Vicki. What does that mean? asks Carolyn. It means that we're seeing the total representation of David's dream, says Roger--but I must know how it was completed! I can tell you how, says Sam, the power that started me on it, finished it! What power are you talking about? asks Roger. I don't know, says Sam. You don't know, you don't know, that's all you seem to say, rants Roger, there's got to be an explanation, do you hear, and I mean to get it! Sorry, says Sam, I can't think of any explanation except...weird sensations, that I was being used--to say something, to communicate. Who would be using you? asks Roger. I don't know, says Sam. When I was in David's room, says Vicki, I sensed something very strange, as though someone had been in there. What do you mean? asks Roger. There was a specific perfume in that room, says Vicki--jasmine. What about it? asks Roger. Mrs. Stoddard doesn't use it, says Vicki. I don't, either, adds Carolyn. Mrs. Johnson could hardly use it, remarks Roger (LOL!). It's not Mrs. Collins', either, says Vicki. That takes care of everyone, says Roger, who could be using it. I smelled that perfume once before,, says Vicki, when I was in the Old House, just after Josette Collins appeared to me. Roger harrumphs. Really, Vicki, you're as preposterous as Evans, complains Roger, I've had about as much of this painting as I can stand. I wonder what David will do when he sees himself in the picture, says Vicki. I don't intend to find out, says Roger--this will finish the matter once and for all. What are you going to do with it? Sam asks. This, says Roger, and tosses the painting into the fireplace.
Flames lap at the painting. David will be furious, mutters Carolyn. As the painting burns, a scream issues from the painting, loud, piercing, sounding like a chilling combination of a woman and a bird in howling together in pain.
NOTES: Sam senses not only that the painting is completing itself, but that it will soon burn, too. How does he know these things? Is he channeling the spirit world? Did Josette herself complete the painting, now that Sam is unable to, and he is the one chosen to bring everyone's attention to the finished product? Laura herself clearly has nothing to do with the painting, in fact, loathes it, but Vicki brought it back to Collinwood, inexplicably, despite her feelings about the painting. Is she, like Sam, also being used by the spirit world to warn them, to prove that David needs protection from his mother?
Roger is delighted at Carolyn's breakup with Burke, but to me, it did seem a bloodless dumping, like Burke was doing something he was ordered to do by someone else. Carolyn seems more pissed off than hurt, especially since he turned to an old love--her aunt.
Now that the painting has been fed to the fire and is burning, we hear a terrible sound issuing from it. Is that the sound a Phoenix makes when it burns and dies? Josette is apparently the friendly spirit who has urged Sam to paint the painting (and finished it when Sam no longer could). She also compelled Vicki to bring it home and give it to David, so it could do what it is doing now, to Vicki's watchful eye at least--warning them that David is in serious danger from his own mother.
Have a great week!
Love, Robin
