Weep No More, My Lady

you wrote that play.'

'Minna, I am telling you-you are crazy! For all we know that woman was self- injecting.'

'That's nonsense. She talked constantly about her fear of needles.'

'That could have been a cover-up.'

'The playwright put over a million dollars in that play. If you are that playwright, where would you have gotten the money?'

They were at the gates of the Spa. Min slowed down and glanced at him, unsmiling. 'I tried to phone Switzerland to check on my balance. Of course, it was after business hours there. I will call tomorrow, Helmut. I hope-for your sake-that money is in my account.'

His expression was as bland as ever, but his eyes were those of a man about to be hanged.

* * *

They met on the porch of Alvirah Meehan's bungalow. The Baron opened the door and they went in. Scott saw that Min had clearly taken advantage of Alvirah's naivete. This was the most expensive of their accommodations- the rooms the First Lady used when she saw fit to seek R-and-R at the Spa. There were a living room, a dining room, a library, a huge master bedroom, two full baths on the first floor. You sure socked it to her, Scott thought.

His inspection of the premises was relatively brief. The medicine chest in the bathroom Alvirah used contained only over-the-counter drugs-maximum-strength Bufferin, Allerest, a nasal spray, a jar of Vicks VapoRub, Ben-Gay. A nice lady whose nasal passages get stuffed up at night and who probably has a few twinges of arthritis.

It seemed to him that the Baron was disappointed. Under Scott's careful scrutiny, he insisted on opening all the bottles, spilling out the contents, examining them to see if any extra medication was mixed with the ordinary tablets and pills. Was it an act? How good an actor was the Toy Soldier?

Alvirah's closet revealed well-worn brushed flannel nightgowns side by side with expensive dresses and caftans, most of them carrying labels from Martha Park Avenue and Cypress Point Spa Boutique.

An incongruous note was the expensive Japanese recorder in the carry-on bag that was part of the Louis Vuitton matching luggage. Scott raised his eyes. Sophisticated, professional equipment! He wouldn't have expected it of Alvirah Meehan.

Elizabeth watched as he thumbed through the cassettes. Three of them were marked in numerical sequence. The rest were blank. Scott shrugged, put them back and closed the bag. He left a few minutes later. Elizabeth walked with him to his car. On the ride over, she had not told him her suspicion that Helmut might have written the play. She wanted to be sure first, to demand the truth from Helmut himself. It was still possible that Clayton Anderson existed, she told herself.

It was exactly six o'clock when Scott's car disappeared past the gates. It was getting cool. Elizabeth shoved her hands into her pockets and felt the sunburst pin. She had taken it off Alvirah's robe after the ambulance left. Obviously it had great sentimental value.

They had sent for Alvirah's husband. She would give the pin to him tomorrow.

Ten

Ted returned to his bungalow from town at six thirty P.M. He had come back the long way, through the Crocker Woodland, to the service entrance of the Spa. He hadn't missed the cars, half-hidden in the brush beside the road leading to the Cypress Point grounds. Reporters. Like dogs on a scent, following the lead that the Globe article suggested…

He peeled off his sweater. It had been too hot to wear-but on the other hand, at this time of year you could be surprised on the Peninsula. The winds could shift and become favorable or unfavorable at a moment's notice.

He drew the shades, switched on the lights and was startled to see the gleam of dark hair that rose over the back of the couch. It was Min. 'It is important that I speak with you.' The tone was the same he'd always known. Warm and authoritative, a curious blend that at one time had inspired confidence. She was wearing a long, sleeveless jacket over some sort of glittery one-piece outfit.

Ted sat opposite her and lit a cigarette. 'I gave these up years ago, but it's amazing how many bad habits you can take on again when you're faced with a lifetime in prison. So much for discipline. I'm not very presentable, Min-but then, I'm not used to having unexpected guests in quite this way.'

'Unexpected and uninvited.' Min's eyes swept over him. 'You've been jogging?'

'No. I've been walking. Quite a long distance. It gives one time to think.'

'Your thoughts can't be very pleasant these days.'

'No. They're not.' Ted waited.

'May I have one of those?' Min indicated the pack of cigarettes he had tossed on the table.

Ted offered her one and lit it for her.

'I too gave them up, but in times of stress…' Min shrugged. 'I gave up many things in my life while I was clawing my way up. Well, you know how it is… launching a model agency and trying to keep it going when there was no money corning in… marrying a sick old man and being his nurse, his mistress, his companion for five endless years… Oh, I thought I had reached a point of certain security. I thought I had earned it.'

'And you haven't?'

Min waved a hand. 'It's lovely here, isn't it? This spot is ideal. The Pacific at our feet, the magnificent coastline, the weather, the comfort and beauty of these accommodations, the unparalleled facilities of the Spa… Even Helmut's monstrosity of a Roman bath could be a stunning draw. Nobody else would be fool enough to try to build one; nobody else would have the flair to run it.'

No wonder she's here, Ted thought. She couldn't risk talking to me with Craig around.

It was as though Min read his mind. 'I know what Craig would advise. But Ted, you're the entrepreneur, the daring businessman. You and I think alike. Helmut is utterly impractical-I know that; but he also has vision. What he needs, and has always needed, is the money to bring his dreams to fruition. Do you remember a conversation we had- the three of us-when your damn bulldog Craig wasn't around? We talked about your putting a Cypress Point Spa in all your new hotels. It's a fabulous idea. It would work.'

'Min, if I'm in prison, there won't be new hotels. We've stopped building since the indictment. You know that.'

'Then lend me money now.' Min's mask dropped. 'Ted, I am desperate. I will be bankrupt in weeks. It need not be! This place lost something in these past few years. Helmut has not been bringing in new guests. I think I know now why he's been in a terrible state. But it could change. Why do you think I brought Elizabeth here? To help you.'

'Min, you saw her reaction to me. If anything, you've made things worse.'

'I'm not sure about that. This afternoon I begged her to reconsider. I told her she would never forgive herself if she destroyed you.' Min crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. 'Ted, I know what I'm saying. Elizabeth is in love with you. She always has been. Make it work for you. It's not too late.' She grasped his arm.

He shook off her grip. 'Min, you don't know what you're talking about.'

'I'm telling you what I know. It's something I sensed from the first time she laid eyes on you. Don't you know how difficult it was for her to be around you and Leila, wanting Leila to be happy, loving you both? She was torn in two. That's why she took that play before Leila died. It wasn't a role she wanted. Sammy talked to me about it. She saw it too. Ted, Elizabeth is fighting you because she feels guilty. She knows Leila goaded you beyond endurance. Make it work for you! And Ted, I beg you- help me now! Please! I beg you.'

With naked appeal she looked at him. He had been perspiring, and his dark brown hair was matted in ringlets and waves. A woman would kill for that head of hair, Min thought. His high cheekbones accentuated the narrow,