at the same dinner table as Cheryl Manning and Ted Winters.' She was rewarded by an audible gasp on the other end of the phone.
'Are you telling me that Elizabeth Lange and Ted Winters are together?'
'Oh, not exactly together,' Alvirah said hastily. 'In fact, she wouldn't go near him at all. She was going to leave right away, but she wanted to see her sister's secretary. The only trouble is Leila's secretary was found dead this afternoon in the Roman bathhouse.'
'Mrs. Meehan, hold on a minute. I want you to repeat everything you just said, very slowly. Someone will be taking it down.'
Nine
At Scott Alshorne's request, the coroner of Monterey County performed an immediate autopsy on the remains of Dora Samuels. Death had been caused by a severe head injury, pressure on the brain from skull fragments, contributing cause a moderately severe stroke.
In his office, Scott studied the autopsy report in reflective silence and tried to pinpoint the reasons he felt there was something sinister about Dora Samuels' death.
That bathhouse. It looked like a mausoleum; it had turned out to be Sammy's sepulcher. Who the hell did Min's husband think he was to have foisted that on her? Incongruously, Scott thought of the contest Leila had run: Should the Baron be called the
Why had Sammy been in the bathhouse? Had she just wandered in there? Was she planning to meet someone? That didn't make sense. The electricity wasn't turned on. It would have been pitch black.
Min and Helmut had both stated that the bathhouse should have been locked. But they'd also admitted they had left it in a hurry yesterday afternoon. 'Minna was upset by the overrun costs,' Helmut had explained. 'I was worried about her emotional state. It is a heavy door. Possibly I did not pull it shut.'
Sammy's death had been caused by the injuries to the back of her head. She had toppled backward into the pool. But had she fallen or been pushed? Scott got up and began backing across his office. A practical, if not a scientific test, he decided. No matter how dazed or confused you are, most people don't start walking backward unless they're backing
He settled at his desk again. He was supposed to attend a civic dinner with the mayor of Carmel. He'd have to pass. He was going back to the Spa and he was going to talk to Elizabeth Lange. It was his hunch that she knew what urgent business had made Sammy go back to the office at nine thirty at night and what document had been so important to copy.
On the drive back to the Spa, two words flashed in his mind.
Fallen?
Pushed?
Then as the car passed the Pebble Beach Lodge, he realized what had been bothering him. That was the same question that was bringing Ted Winters to trial on a murder indictment!
Ten
Craig spent the rest of the afternoon in Ted's bungalow going through the bulky package of mail that had been expressed from the New York office. With a practiced eye he skimmed memos, reviewed printouts, studied projection charts. His frown deepened as he read. That group of Harvard and Wharton Business M.B.A.s Ted had hired a couple of years ago were a constant irritant to him. If they had their way, Ted would be building hotels on space platforms.
At least they had had the brains to recognize that they couldn't try to go around Craig anymore. The memos and letters were all addressed to him and Ted jointly.
Ted got back at five o'clock. Obviously the walk hadn't relaxed him any. He was in a foul mood. 'Is there any reason you can't work in your place?' was his first question.
'None except that it seemed simpler to be here for you.' Craig indicated the business files. 'There are some things I'd like to go over.'
'I'm not interested. Do what you think best.'
'I think 'best' would be for you to have a Scotch and unwind a little. And I think 'best' for Winters Enterprises is to get rid of those two assholes from
Harvard. Their expense accounts amount to armed robbery.'
'I don't want to go into that now.'
Bartlett came in pink-faced from his afternoon in the sun. Craig noticed the way Ted's mouth tightened at Bartlett 's genial greeting. There was no question Ted was starting to unravel. He drank the first Scotch quickly and didn't protest when Craig refilled it.
Bartlett wanted to discuss the list of defense witnesses Craig had prepared for him. He read it off to Ted-a glittering array of famous names.
'You don't have the President on it,' Ted said sarcastically.
Bartlett fell into the trap. 'Which president?'
'Of the United States, of course. I used to be one of his golf partners.'
Bartlett shrugged and closed the file. 'Obviously this isn't going to be a good working session. Are you planning to eat out tonight?'
'No, I'm planning to stay right here. And right now I'm planning to nap.'
Craig and Bartlett left together. 'You do realize this is getting hopeless,' Bartlett told him.
At six thirty Craig received a call from the agency he'd hired to investigate the eyewitness, Sally Ross. 'There was some excitement in Ross's apartment building,' he was told. 'The woman who lives directly above her walked in on an attempted bur-glary. They caught the guy-a petty thief with a long record. Ross didn't go out at all.'
At seven o'clock, Craig met Bartlett at Ted's bungalow. Ted wasn't there. They started toward the main house together. 'You're about as popular as I am with Teddy these days,' Bartlett commented.
Craig shrugged. 'Listen, if he wants to take it out on me, it's all right. In a way, I brought this on him.'
'How do you figure that one?'
'I introduced him to Leila. She was my date first.'
They reached the veranda in time to hear the newest witticism.
There was no sign of Elizabeth during the 'cocktail' hour. Craig watched for her to come up the path, but she did not appear. Bartlett drifted over to the tennis pro and his girlfriend. Ted was talking to the Countess and her group; Cheryl was hanging on his arm. A morose-looking Syd was standing off by himself. Craig went over to him. 'That business about 'proof.' Was Cheryl drunk last night or just talking her usual drivel?' he asked.
He knew Syd wouldn't have minded taking a swing at him. Syd considered him to be, like all the parasites in Ted's world, the bottleneck to Ted's largesse. Craig considered himself more of a goalie -you had to pass him to score.
'I would say,' Syd told him, 'that Cheryl was giving her usual splendid dramatic performance.'
Min and Helmut did not appear in the dining rooms until after the guests had settled. Craig noticed how gaunt
