Dead Even - Mariah Stewart [45]
“You think it made a difference to him? He just moved on and started over.” She turned on the ignition and backed the car out of its spot near the barn. “Now, Joshua Landry, he’s a different story. You read those letters. Landry really had old Curtis pissed off.”
“You think he’s taking this seriously?”
“Not as seriously as Regan is.”
“That was my impression, too.”
“He did seem almost amused by the prospect of a killer coming after him, didn’t he?” She shook her head. “Writers. Every one I’ve ever met has been just a little off, you know what I mean?”
“Yeah. But I feel better knowing that the local police will be keeping an eye on things.”
“Ah, may I remind you that we just went through this in Telford?”
“Well, with any luck, these guys will do a better job than the Telford police did with Al Unger.”
“Though the officers who came out to Landry’s in response to his call seemed genuinely fond of him,” Miranda noted. “Guess he’s somewhat of a local celebrity. I think they’ll keep tabs on him. Plus, he has that mega security system. Hopefully, he should be all right until we find Lowell.”
“Well, I’ll feel better if Regan is successful in getting her father to agree to hiring someone to watch his back. She seemed concerned about leaving him when she goes back to Philly tomorrow. She doesn’t look like she’d be much of a bodyguard.”
“I don’t know about that. I read an article about her last year. She’s pretty accomplished. She’s supposed to be quite the marksman. She’s a black belt in tae kwon do and competes in triathlons.”
“Maybe so, but I don’t think watching out for Landry is a job for his daughter.”
“I think I’d have more faith in her than in the local police.”
“Speaking of whom, you didn’t hear back from Fleming yet, did you?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Maybe I should pull over and make a call.”
“Why don’t we stop for dinner at one of those restaurants out there on Route One? I noticed there were quite a few when we came in.”
“Good idea. I’ll never make it back to Virginia on an empty stomach.”
“Me either.”
They rode in silence for a mile or two, down the winding country road.
“This is Grovers Mill,” Will noted as the car rounded a curve that wrapped around a large lake. “See the sign back there?”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“Sure. Orson Welles. War of the Worlds.”
“You’re talking about the novel?”
“I’m talking about the radio show, back in the late thirties. The night before Halloween, 1938. The novel was adapted as a radio play and rewritten as a live news broadcast. Actors described the landing of a force of invaders from Mars. It was supposed to have happened on a farm right back there in Grovers Mill.”
“I think I might have heard about that but don’t recall the details.”
“It was really famous. As a matter of fact, you can buy the entire broadcast on tape. I’ll see if I can find it for you; you can listen to it yourself. People tuned in, not realizing it was a play, and there was all kinds of panic. People hid in cellars, locked themselves in their houses, boarded up the windows, and loaded up their shotguns, ready to take on the Martians. The broadcast was so convincing, people really believed the United States was being invaded by a force from outer space.”
“Didn’t they tell the public it wasn’t real?” She frowned. “That’s not very responsible.”
“They did make it very clear at the beginning, and occasionally reminded the listeners that it was just a play. But you know how it is, if you turn on the radio or the TV in the middle of something, you often have no idea what’s going on. If it looks like a real broadcast, sounds like real news coverage, you think it’s real.”
“So if you tuned in at the wrong time, you thought we were under attack?”
“Apparently, a lot of people really believed it.”
“And they broadcast from back there?”
“No, they just said they were there.”
“Why’d they pick that place? It’s in the middle of nowhere.”
“That’s probably why they picked it. I guess if they’d said they were broadcasting from someplace like Times