“Studying musical composition seems to be a very directed choice,” Peter said.

“I suppose so. That was a delicious lunch.”

“Mine, too. Shall we go to my house?”

“Sure.”

Peter paid the check, and they walked over to Turtle Bay. He let them into the house and hung up their coats, then they went into the living room where the old Steinway grand was.

Hattie sat down and riffed through a few chords. “Have you decided what the titles are going to be like yet?” she asked.

“I have a lot of shots of the school campus and the James River. I thought I might string together some of them under the titles.”

“Good, that’s what I was thinking,” she said. She began to play. “I thought I would begin with a slow passage, sort of pastoral in nature, like this.” She played a few measures. “Then I’ll establish a simple theme that will return at various points in the film.” She played the theme, then another minute or two of music, then stopped. “This is where it says, ‘Directed by Peter Barrington,’” she said. “Then the music stops for a while. I think the score should be kind of spare. I hated it in a lot of old movies when the music was there all the time. I don’t think a film needs music all the way through; it should be saved for when it’s needed to augment the film, maybe heighten the drama. Listen to this: it’s when the two boys are actually mixing the poison that they’re going to give to the master.” She played a spikier, more staccato passage.

“That’s perfect,” Peter said, in awe of what he was hearing. “I’d be happy for the whole score to be just your piano.”

“There are a few places where we could add a cello and a flute,” she said, “and I’d like a double bass in the more dramatic passages. There are kids at school who could play those parts.”

“Whatever you say. Play me the theme again.”

She began the passage, and Peter was swept into it. He closed his eyes and listened.

Chapter 41

41

Stone was in his office when, from upstairs, he heard the sound of the piano. It sounded very nice, he thought, and he was glad he had it tuned twice a year. After a while the music stopped, and Stone thought that, in light of his conversation with Arrington, he should find out why. He got up and went upstairs.

“Good afternoon,” he said, startling the teenagers.

“Hello, Dad,” Peter said. “I’d like you to meet Hattie Patrick, my friend from school.”

Stone shook her hand. “Hello, Hattie. I liked what you were playing a minute ago.”

“I hope we didn’t disturb you,” she said.

“Not at all.”

“That was some of the music Hattie has written for the score of my movie, Dad,” Peter said.