Weep No More, My Lady

definitive word was 'chemistry,' and it was bad between them.

As he grudgingly plodded on the forced march behind Min and the Baron, Henry admitted to himself that this place was luxurious, that the setting was beautiful, that under different circumstances he could come to appreciate the charms of the Monterey Peninsula and Cypress Point Spa. But now he was on a countdown. The trial of The People of the State of New York v. Andrew Edward Winters III would begin in exactly one week. Publicity was eminently desirable when you won a headline case; but unless Ted Winters started cooperating, this case would not be won.

Min was picking up the pace. Henry quickened his footsteps. He hadn't missed the appreciative glances of the fiftyish ash-blonde who was with the Countess. Under different circumstances he'd check that out. But not now.

Craig was marching at a solid, steady pace behind him. Henry still couldn't put his finger on what made Craig Babcock tick. On the one hand he'd talked about Pop's deli on the Lower East Side. On the other, he was clearly the hatchet man for Ted

Winters. It was a pity that it was too late for him to testify that he and Ted had been on the phone when that so-called eyewitness claimed she saw Ted. That thought reminded Henry of what he wanted to ask Craig.

'What's with the investigator on Sally Ross?'

'I put three investigators on her-two for background, one to shadow her.'

'It should have been done months ago.'

'I agree. Ted's first lawyer didn't think it was necessary.'

They were leaving the path that exited the Spa grounds and proceeding onto the road that led to the Lone Cypress.

'How did you arrange to get reports?'

'The head guy will call me every morning, nine thirty New York time, six thirty here. I just spoke to him. Nothing too important to report yet. Pretty much what we know already. She's been divorced a couple of times; she fights with her neighbors; she's always accusing people of staring at her. She treats 911 like it's her own personal hot line, always calling to report suspicious-looking characters.'

'I could chew her up and spit her out on the stand,' Bartlett said. 'Without Elizabeth Lange's testimony, the prosecution would be flying on one wing. Incidentally, I want to know how good her eyesight is, if she needs glasses, what strength glasses, when they were changed last, and so on… everything about her vision.'

'Good. I'll phone it in.'

For a few minutes they walked in silence. The morning was silvery bright; the sun was absorbing the dew from the leaves and bushes; the road was quiet, with only an occasional car passing; the narrow bridge that led to the Lone Cypress was empty.

Bartlett glanced over his shoulder. 'I'd hoped to see Ted holding hands with Cheryl.'

'He always jogs in the morning. Maybe he was holding hands with her all night.'

'I hope so. Your friend Syd doesn't look happy.'

'The rumor is Syd's broke. He was riding high with Leila as a client. He'd sign her up for a picture and part of the deal was they'd use a couple of his other clients somewhere else. That's how he kept Cheryl working. Without Leila and with all the money he lost in that play, he's got problems. He'd love to put the arm on Ted right now. I won't let him.'

'He and Cheryl are the most important defense witnesses we have,' Henry snapped. 'Maybe you'd better be more generous. In fact, I'm going to make that suggestion to Ted.'

They had passed the Pebble Beach Lodge and were on the way back to the Spa. 'We'll get to work after breakfast,' Bartlett announced. 'I've got to decide the strategy of this case and whether to put Ted on the stand. My guess is that he'll make a lousy witness for himself; but no matter how much the judge instructs the jury, it makes a big psychological difference when a defendant won't subject himself to questioning.'

* * *

Syd walked back to Cheryl's bungalow with her. 'Let's make this short,' she said when the door closed behind them. 'I want to shower, and I invited Ted for breakfast.' She pulled the sweat shirt over her head, stepped out of the sweat pants and reached for her robe. 'What is it?'

'Always practicing, aren't you?' Syd snapped. 'Save it for the dopes, honey. I'd rather wrestle with a tiger.' For a long minute he studied her. She had darkened her hair for the Amanda audition, and the effect was startling. The softer color had obliterated the brassy, cheap-at-the-core look she'd never quite conquered and had accentuated those marvelous eyes. Even in a terry-cloth robe she looked like someone with class. Inside, Syd knew, she was the same scheming little hooker he'd been dealing with for nearly two decades.

Now she smiled dazzlingly at him. 'Oh, Syd, let's not fight. What do you want?'

'I'll be happy to make it brief. Why did you suggest that Leila might have committed suicide? Why would she have believed that Ted was involved with another woman?'

'Proof.'

'What kind of proof?'

'A letter.' Quickly she explained. 'I went up to see Min yesterday. They had the nerve to leave a bill here, when they know perfectly well I'm a draw for this place. They were inside, and I just happened to notice all that fan mail on Sammy's desk, and when I looked around I saw this crazy letter. And I took it.'

'You took it!'

'Of course. Let me show it to you.' She hurried into her bedroom, brought it back, and leaning over his shoulder, read it with him.

Leila,

How many Times Do I Have to write? Can't YOU get it straight ThAt Ted is sick of you? His new girl is beautiful and much younger THaN you. I told you THAT the emerald necklace HE gave H_er matcHes the bracelet he gave you. It cost Twice as much And looks Ten Times better. I hear your play is lousy. You really should Learn your lines. I'll write again soon.

Your friend.

'Don't you see? Ted must have been having a fling with someone else. But wouldn't that make him glad to break up with Leila? And if he wants to say it was with me, that's fine. I'll back him up.'

'You stupid bitch.'

Cheryl straightened up and walked over to the other couch. She sat down, leaned forward and spoke precisely, as though she were addressing a not-very-bright child. 'You don't seem to realize that this letter is my chance to make Ted understand that I have his best interests at heart.'

Syd walked over, grabbed the letter from Cheryl's hand and shredded it. 'Last night Bob Koenig phoned me to make sure there was nothing unfavorable that might come out about you. You know why, as of this minute, you have the inside track for Amanda? Because Margo Dresher's had more than her share of lousy publicity. What kind of publicity do you think you'd get if Leila's fans find out you drove her to suicide with poison-pen letters?'

'I didn't write that letter.'

'The hell you didn't! How many people knew about that bracelet? I saw your eyes when Ted gave it to Leila. You were ready to stab her right then. Those rehearsals were closed. How many people knew Leila was having trouble with her lines? You knew. Why? Because I told you myself. You wrote that letter and others like it. How much time did it take you to cut and paste? I'm surprised you had the patience. How many more are there, and are they likely to show up?'

Cheryl looked alarmed. 'Syd, I swear to you I did not write that letter or any others. Syd, tell me about Bob