Weep No More, My Lady

She handed him the note Ted had written to her. 'Don't I? Tell me about meeting Ted the night Leila died. Why didn't you come forward with that information months ago.'

Syd scanned the note. 'He put that in writing! He's a bigger fool than I realized.'

Elizabeth leaned forward. 'According to this, the Baron heard Ted struggling with Leila, and Ted told you that Leila was dead. Did it ever occur to either of you to see what had happened, if there was any chance to help her?'

Syd shoved his chair back. 'I've listened to you long enough.'

'No, you haven't. Syd, why did you go to Leila's apartment that night? Why did the Baron go there? She didn't expect either one of you.'

Syd stood up. Anger made his face ugly. 'Listen, Elizabeth, your sister wiped me out when she quit that play. I went to ask her to reconsider. I never got inside that apartment building. Ted ran past me on the street. I chased him. He told me she was dead. Who lives after a fall like that? I stayed out of it. I never saw the Baron that night.' He threw Ted's letter back at her. 'Aren't you satisfied? Ted's going to jail. That's what you want, isn't it?'

'Don't leave, Syd. I've still got lots of questions. The letter Cheryl stole. Why did you destroy it? It might have helped Ted. I thought you were so anxious to help him.'

Syd sat down heavily. 'Look, Elizabeth, I'll make a deal with you. Tearing up that letter was my mistake. Cheryl swears she didn't write that one or any like it. I believe her.'

Elizabeth waited. She was not going to concede that Scott believed Cheryl as well.

'You're right about the Baron,' Syd continued. 'He wrote the play. You know how Leila put him down. He wanted to have power over her, make her indebted to him. Another guy would want to drag her into bed.' He waited. ' Elizabeth, if Cheryl can't leave tomorrow and be at her press reception, she'll lose this series. The studio will drop her if they find out she's being detained. You've got Scott's ear. Persuade him to leave Cheryl out of this, and I'll give you a hint about those letters.'

Elizabeth stared at him. Syd seemed to take her silence for assent. As he spoke, he tapped the table with his fingertips. 'The Baron wrote Merry-Go-Round. I've got his handwritten changes on the early scripts. Let's play 'Suppose,' Elizabeth. Suppose the play is a hit. The Baron doesn't need Min anymore. He's tired of the Spa game. Now he's a Broadway playwright, and constantly with Leila. How could Min prevent that from happening? By making sure the play is a flop. How does she do that? By destroying Leila. And she was just the one who knew how. Ted and Leila were together for three years. If Cheryl wanted to get on their case, why would she have waited that long?'

He did not wait for her response. The chair made the same grating sound as it had when he'd arrived. Elizabeth stared after him. It was possible. It made sense. She could hear Leila say, 'God, Sparrow, Min's really got the hots for the Toy Soldier, hasn't she? I'd hate to be the one who got cozy with him. Min would be on the warpath with a hatchet.'

Or with scissors and paste?

Syd disappeared through the hedges. Watching him, Elizabeth could not see the grim smile he allowed himself as he passed from her vision.

It might work, Syd thought. He'd been wondering how to play this card, and she had made it easy for him. If she fell for it, Cheryl might be in the clear. The smile disappeared. Might be.

But what about himself?

Five

Unseeing and motionless, Elizabeth sat at the pool until the brisk voice of the water-aerobics instructor cut through the increasing shock she felt as her mind analyzed the enormity of Min's possible betrayal. She got up and followed the path to the main house.

The afternoon had fulfilled the morning's promise. The sun was golden warm; there was no breeze; even the cypress trees looked mellow, their dark leaves shimmering, the craggy shapes unthreatening. The cheerful clusters of petunias, geraniums and azaleas, perky from recent watering, were now straining toward the warmth, the blossoms open and radiant.

In the office she found a temporary receptionist, a thirtyish, pleasant-faced woman. The Baron and Baroness had gone to the Monterey Peninsula hospital to offer their assistance to Mrs. Meehan's husband. 'They're just heartsick about her.' The receptionist seemed deeply impressed by their concern.

They'd been heartsick when Leila died, Elizabeth remembered. Now she wondered how much of Min's grief had resulted from guilt. She scribbled a note to Helmut and sealed it. 'Please give this to the Baron as soon as he comes back.'

She glanced at the copy machine. Sammy had been using that machine when for some reason she'd wandered into the bathhouse. Suppose she really had had some sort of attack that disoriented her. Suppose she had left that letter in the copier. Min had come down early the next morning. Min might have found it and destroyed it.

Wearily, Elizabeth went back to her bungalow. She'd never know who had sent those letters. No one would ever admit it. Why was she staying here now? It was all over. And what was she going to do with the rest of her life? In his note, Ted had told her to start a new and happier chapter. Where? How?

Her head was aching-a dull, steady pounding. She realized that she had skipped lunch again. She'd call and inquire after Alvirah Meehan and then start packing. Funny, how awful it is when there's no place in the world you want to go, no single human being you want to see. She pulled a suitcase out of the closet, opened it, then stopped abruptly.

She still had Alvirah's sunburst pin. It was in the pocket of the slacks she'd been wearing when she'd gone to the clinic. When she took it out and held it, she realized it was heavier than it looked. She was no expert on jewelry, but clearly this was not a valuable piece. Turning it over, she began to study the back. It didn't have the usual safety catch. Instead, there was an enclosed device of some sort. She turned the pin again and studied the face. The small opening in the center was a microphone!

The impact of her discovery left her weak. The seemingly artless questions, the way Alvirah Meehan had fiddled with that pin-she'd been pointing the microphone to catch the voices of the people she was with. The suitcase in her bungalow with the expensive recording equipment, the cassettes there… Elizabeth knew she had to get them before anyone else did.

She rang for Vicky.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later she was back in her own bungalow, the cassettes and recorder from Alvirah Meehan's suitcase in her possession. Vicky looked flustered and somewhat apprehensive. 'I hope no one saw us go in there,' she told Elizabeth.

'I'm giving everything to Sheriff Alshorne,' Elizabeth assured her. 'I just want to be certain they won't disappear if Mrs. Meehan's husband tells anyone about them.' She agreed that tea and a sandwich would taste good. When Vicky returned with the tray, she found Elizabeth, earphones on her head, her notebook in her lap, a pen in her hands, listening to the tapes.

Six

Scott Alshorne did not like having a suspicious death and a suspicious near-death unresolved. Dora Samuels had suffered a stroke just before her death. How long before? Alvirah Meehan had had a drop of blood on her face which suggested an injection. The lab report showed a very low blood sugar, possibly the result of an injection. The Baron's efforts had fortunately saved her life. So where did that leave him?

Mrs. Meehan's husband had not been located last night until late evening-one A.M. New York time. He'd