Weep No More, My Lady

perfectly shaped nose. His lips were even, his jaw just square enough to impart a look of strength to his face. His shirt was clinging to his body. His limbs were tanned and muscular. She wondered where he had been and realized he might not have heard yet about Alvirah Meehan. She did not want to talk about that now.

'Min, I can't go ahead with spas in hotels that won't be built if I go to prison. I can bail you out now, and I will. But let me ask you something: has it ever occurred to you that Elizabeth might be wrong, might be mistaken about the time? Has it even occurred to you that I'm telling the truth, when I say I did not go back upstairs?'

Min's smile of relief turned to astonishment. 'Ted, you can trust me. You can trust Helmut. He hasn't told a soul except me… He never will tell a soul… He heard you shouting at Leila. He heard her begging for her life.'

Eleven

Should she have told Scott what she suspected about the Baron? Elizabeth wondered as she went into the welcome calm of her bungalow. Her senses absorbed the emerald-and-white color scheme. Splashy print on thick white carpeting. She could almost imagine there was a lingering hint of Joy mixed with the salty sea air.

Leila.

Red hair. Emerald eyes. The pale skin of the natural redhead. The billowing white satin pajamas that she'd been wearing when she died. Those yards of material must have floated around her as she fell.

My God. My God. Elizabeth slipped the double lock and huddled on the couch, her head in her hands, appalled at the vision of Leila, floating down through the night to her death…

Helmut. Had he written Merry-Go-Round? If so, had he cleaned out Min's untouchable Swiss account to finance it? He would have been frantic when Leila said she was quitting the show. How frantic?

Alvirah Meehan. The ambulance attendants. The speck of blood on Alvirah's face. The incredulous tone when the paramedic spoke to Helmut: 'What do you mean you hadn't started the injections? Who do you think you're kidding?'

Helmut's hands compressing Alvirah's chest… Helmut starting the intravenous… But Helmut must have been frantic hearing Alvirah talk about 'a butterfly floating on a cloud.' Alvirah had seen a preview of the play. Leila had made the connection to Helmut. Had Alvirah Meehan made it as well?

She thought about Min's speech to her this afternoon, about Ted. She had virtually acknowledged Ted's guilt, then tried to persuade her that Leila had provoked him over and over again. Was that true?

Was Min right-that Leila would never want to see Ted behind bars for the rest of his life? And why did Min sound so positive about Ted's guilt? Two days ago she'd been saying it must have been an accident.

Elizabeth locked her arms around her knees and laid her head on her hands.

'I don't know what to do,' she whispered to herself. She had never felt lonelier in her life.

.

* * *

At seven o'clock she heard the faint chimes that indicated 'cocktail' hour had begun. She decided to have dinner served in the bungalow. It was impossible to envision going through the motions of socializing with any of those people, knowing that Sammy's body was in the morgue awaiting shipment to Ohio, that Alvirah Meehan was fighting for her life in Monterey Hospital. Two nights ago she had been at the table with Alvirah Meehan. Two nights ago Sammy had been in this room with her. Who would be next?

At quarter of eight Min called. ' Elizabeth, everyone is inquiring about you. Are you all right?'

'Of course. I just need to be quiet.'

'You're sure you're not ill? You should know- Ted especially is very concerned.'

Hand it to Min. She never gives up. 'I'm really fine, Min. Would you have them send a tray? I'll take it a bit easy and go for a swim later. Don't worry about me.'

She hung up the phone. Walked around the room restlessly, already longing to be in the water.

'IN AQUA SANITAS,' the inscription read. For once Helmut was right. Water would soothe her, turn off her mind.

Twelve

He was reaching for the tank when there was a sharp knock on the door. Frantically he yanked the mask from his face and pulled his arms out of the cumbersome wet suit. He jammed the tank and the mask into the closet, then rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

The knocking was repeated, an impatient staccato. He managed to get free of the suit, dropped it behind the couch and grabbed his robe.

Making his voice sound annoyed, he shouted, 'All right, all right' and opened the door.

The door was pushed open. 'What took you so long? We've got to talk.'

It was nearly ten o'clock when he was at last able to go to the pool. He reached it just in time to see Elizabeth walking down the path to her bungalow. In his hurry, he brushed against a chair at the edge of the patio. She turned around, and he barely had time to step back into the bushes.

Tomorrow night. There was still a chance to get to her here. If not, a different kind of accident would have to be arranged.

Like Alvirah Meehan, she had picked up the scent and was leading Scott Alshorne along the trail.

That scraping noise. It had been the sound of a chair grating against the patio tiles. The air had become cool but was very still. There was no breeze to set anything in motion. She'd turned quickly and for just an instant had thought she'd seen someone moving. But that was foolish. Why would anyone bother to stand in the shadows of the trees?

Even so, Elizabeth quickened her steps and was glad to be back in the bungalow with the door locked. She phoned the hospital. There was no change in Mrs. Meehan's condition.

It took a long time to fall asleep. What was eluding her? Something that had been said, something she ought to have seized on. Finally she drifted off…

She was searching for someone… She was in an empty building with long, dark halls… Her body was aching with need… Her arms were outstretched… What was that poem she'd read somewhere? 'Is there yet one, oh eyes and lips remembered, who turns and reaches for me in the night?' She whispered it over and over… She saw a staircase… She hurried down it… He was there. His back to her. She threw her arms around him. He turned and caught her and held her. His mouth was on hers. 'Ted, I love you, I love you,' she said, over and over again…

Somehow she managed to wake up. For the rest of the night, miserable and despairing, she lay numbly in the bed where Leila and Ted had so often slept together, determined not to sleep. Not to dream.

Thursday, September 3