Weep No More, My Lady

dinner she was frequently known to admonish a guest. 'You should have been in aerobics when I saw you reading in the garden!' She also had an uncanny knack of noticing when an employee kept a guest waiting.

Elizabeth knocked softly on the door of the private office suite. When there was no answer she opened it. Like every room in Cypress Point Spa, the offices were furnished exquisitely. An abstract watercolor by Will Moses hung on the wall over the oyster-colored couch. An Aubusson rug shimmered on the dark tile. The reception desk was authentic Louis XV, but there was no one seated there. She felt an immediate sense of sharp disappointment, but reminded herself that Sammy would be back tomorrow night.

Tentatively, she walked to the partially open door of the office Min and the Baron shared, then gasped in surprise. Baron Helmut von Schreiber was standing at the far wall, where pictures of Min's most famous clients were hung. Elizabeth 's eyes followed him, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

It was Leila's portrait Helmut was studying, the one Leila had posed for the last time she was here. The vivid green of Leila's dress was unmistakable, the brilliant red hair that floated around her face, the way she was holding up a champagne glass as though offering a toast.

Helmut's hands were clasped tightly behind his back. Everything about his stance suggested tension.

Elizabeth did not want him to know that he had been observed. Swiftly she retraced her steps to the reception room, opened and closed the door with a loud thud, then called, 'Anyone home?'

An instant later he rushed from the inner office. The change in his demeanor was dramatic. This was the gracious, urbane European she had always known, with the warm smile, the kiss on both cheeks, the murmured compliment. ' Elizabeth, you grow more beautiful every day. So young, so fair, so divinely tall.'

'Tall, anyhow.' Elizabeth stepped back. 'Let me look at you, Helmut.' She studied him carefully, observing that no trace of tension showed in his baby-blue eyes. His smile was relaxed and natural. His parted lips showed perfect white teeth. How had Leila described him? 'I swear, Sparrow, that guy makes me think of a toy soldier. Do you suppose Min winds him up in the morning? He may have decent ancestry, but I bet he never had more than a nickel behind him till he latched on to Min.'

Elizabeth had protested, 'He's a plastic surgeon, and certainly he's knowledgeable about spas. The place is famous.'

'It may be famous,' Leila had retorted, 'but it costs a bundle to run, and I'd bet my last dollar even those prices can't carry that overhead. Listen Sparrow, I should know. I've married two free loaders so far, right? Sure he treats Min like a queen, but he's putting that tinted head on two-hundred-dollar pillowcases every night, and besides what she's spent on the Spa, Min's dumped a pile of dough into that broken-down castle of his in Austria.'

Like everyone else, Helmut had seemed grief-stricken at Leila's death, but now Elizabeth wondered if that had only been an act.

'Well, tell me. Am I all right? You look so troubled. Perhaps you have found some wrinkles?' His laugh was low, well bred, amused.

She made herself smile up at him. 'I think you look splendid,' she said. 'Perhaps I'm just shocked to realize how long it's been since I've seen you.'

'Come.' He took her hand and led her to the grouping of Art Deco wicker furniture near the front windows. He grimaced as he sat down. 'I keep trying to convince Minna that these objects were meant to be seen, not used. So tell me, how has it been for you?'

'Busy. Of course, that's the way I want it to be.'

'Why haven't you come td see us before this?'

Because in this place I knew I'd be seeing Leila everywhere I turned. 'I did see Min in Venice three months ago.'

'And also, the Spa holds too many memories for you, yes?'

'It holds memories. But I've missed you two. And I'm looking forward to seeing Sammy. How do you think she's feeling?'

'You know Sammy. She never complains. But my guess would be-not well. I don't think she's ever recovered, either from the surgery or from the shock of Leila's death. And she is past seventy now. No great age physiologically, but still…'

The outer door closed with a decided thump, and Min's voice preceded her entrance. 'Helmut, wait until you see the lottery winner. You have your work cut out for you. We'll need to arrange interviews for her. She'll make this place sound like seventh heaven.'

She rushed across the room and embraced Elizabeth fiercely. 'If you knew the nights I've lain awake worrying about you! How long can you stay?'

'Not very long. Just until Friday.'

'That's only five days!'

'I know, but the district attorney's office has to review my testimony.' Elizabeth realized how good it felt to have loving arms around her.

'What do they have to review?'

'The questions they'll be asking me at the trial.

The questions Ted's lawyer will be asking me. I thought telling the simple truth would be enough, but apparently the defense will try to prove I'm mistaken about the time of the phone call.'

'Do you think you might be mistaken?' Min's lips were grazing her ear, her voice a suggestive stage whisper. Startled, Elizabeth pulled back from the embrace in time to see the warning frown on Helmut's face.

'Min, do you think if I had the slightest doubt-'

'All right,' Min said hastily. 'We shouldn't talk about that now. So you have five days. You're going to be pampered; you're going to rest. I made out your schedule myself. You start with a facial and massage this afternoon.'

Elizabeth left them a few minutes later. The slanting rays of the sun danced on the beds of wild-flowers along the path to the bungalow Min had assigned her. Somewhere in her subconscious she experienced a sense of calm observing the brilliant checkerblooms, the wood roses, the flowering currant hedges. But the momentary tranquillity could not mask the fact that behind the warm welcome and seeming concern, Min and Helmut were different.

They were angry and worried and hostile. And that hostility was directed at her.

Three

Syd Melnick did not find the drive from Beverly Hills to Pebble Beach enjoyable. For the entire four hours, Cheryl Manning sat like a stone, rigid and uncommunicative, in the seat beside him. For the first three hours she had not allowed him to put the top down on the convertible. She wasn't going to risk drying out her face and hair. It was only when they approached Carmel and she wanted to be recognized going through town that she'd permitted the change.

Occasionally during the long ride, Syd glanced over at her. There was no question she looked good. The blue-black hair exploding in a mass of tendrils around her face was sexy and exciting. She was thirty-six now, and what had once been a gamin quality had evolved into a sultry sophistication that became her well. Dynasty and Dallas were getting long in the tooth. Audiences eventually got restless. There was a definite move to say 'Enough' to the steamy love affairs of women in their fifties. And in Amanda, Cheryl had finally found the role that could make her a superstar.

When that happened, Syd in turn would be a big-time agent again. An author was as good as his last book. An actor as bankable as his last picture. An agent needed megabucks deals to be considered topflight. It was again within his grasp to become a legend, the next Swifty Lazar. And this time, he told himself, he wouldn't screw it up at the casinos, or blow it on the horses.