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Six
Sheriff Scott Alshorne had been a lifelong friend of Samuel Edgers, Min's first husband, the man who had built the Cypress Point Hotel. He and Min had liked each other from the start, and it had pleased him to see that Min kept her part of her bargain. She gave the ailing and cantankerous octogenarian a new lease on life for the five years she was married to him.
Scott had watched with mingled curiosity and awe as Min and that titled jerk she married next had taken a comfortable, profitable hotel and turned it into a self-consuming monster. Min now invited him at least once a month to di
If Sammy had had some kind of stroke and started wandering around, she'd have been noticed. Old sick people didn't get overlooked on the Monterey Peninsula. Scott was proud of his jurisdiction.
His office was in Salinas, the seat of Monterey County and twenty-two miles from Pebble Beach. Crisply he issued instructions for the posting of a missing-person notice and directed that deputies from the Pebble Beach area meet him at the Spa.
He was silent on the drive. The deputy who chauffeured him noticed there were unusually deep creases in his boss's forehead, that the craggy, ta
It was ten thirty when they drove through the gates. The houses and grounds had an air of tranquillity. There were few people walking around. Scott knew that most of the guests were in the spas, working out, being pummeled and patted and scrubbed and plucked so that when they went home at the end of their stay, their families and friends would gush over how marvelous they looked. Or they were in the clinic having one of Helmut's sophisticated and ultra-expensive treatments.
He had heard that Ted Winters' private jet had landed at the airport on Sunday afternoon and that Ted was here. He'd debated with himself as to whether or not to call him. Ted was under indictment for second-degree murder. He was also the kid who used to delight in sailing with his grandfather and Scott.
Knowing that Ted was booked at the Spa caused Scott to register openmouthed astonishment when he saw Elizabeth sitting at Sammy's desk. She had not heard him come up the stairs, and he took a moment to study her unobserved. She was deathly pale, and her eyes were red-rimmed. Strands of hair had slipped from the knot on top of her head and curled around her face. She was pulling letters from envelopes, glancing at them and tossing them aside impatiently. Clearly she was searching for something. He noticed that her hands were trembling.
He knocked loudly on the open door and watched her jump up. Relief and apprehension mingled in her expression. Spontaneously she ran around the desk and with outstretched arms hurried toward him. Just before she reached him, she stopped abruptly. "I'm sorry… I mean, how are you, Scott? It's good to see you."
He knew what she was thinking. Because of his longtime friendship with Ted, he might regard her as the enemy. Poor kid. He gathered her in a quick bear hug. To disguise his own emotion, he said gruffly, "You're too ski
"I'm on a get-fat-fast. Banana splits and brownies."
"Good."
Together they went into Min's office. Scott raised his eyebrows when he saw the haggard expression on Min's face, the wary, veiled eyes of the Baron. They were both worried, and somehow he felt it went beyond concern for Sammy. His direct questions garnered the information he needed. "I'd like to take a look at Sammy's apartment."
Min led the way. Elizabeth and Helmut trailed behind. Somehow Scott's presence gave Elizabeth a faint touch of hope. At least something would be done. She had seen the disapproval in his face at the realization they had waited so long to phone him.
Scott glanced around the sitting room and walked into the bedroom. He pointed to the suitcase on the floor near the closet. "Was she pla
"She just got back," Min explained, then looked puzzled. "It's not like Sammy not to unpack immediately."
Scott opened the bag. There was a cosmetic case on top filled with pill bottles. He read the directions: "One every four hours; twice a day; two at bedtime." He frowned. "Sammy was careful about her medication. She didn't want another siege. Min, show me the condition of the office as you found it."
It was the copy machine that seemed to intrigue him most. "The window was open. The machine was on." He stood in front of it. "She was about to copy something. She looked out the window, and then what? She felt dizzy? She wandered outside? But where was she trying to go?" He stared out the window. This view took in the expanse of the north lawn, the scattered bungalows along the way to the Olympic pool and the Roman bath-that god-awful monstrosity!
"You say every inch of the grounds, every building was searched?"
"Yes." Helmut answered first. "I personally saw to it."
Scott cut him off. "We'll start all over."
Elizabeth spent the next hours at Sammy's desk. Her fingers were dry from handling the dozens of letters she examined. They read alike-requests for Leila's autograph, requests for her picture. There was so far no sign of any more anonymous letters.
At two o'clock Elizabeth heard a shout. She raced to the window in time to see one of the policemen gesturing from the door of the bathhouse. Her feet flew on the stairs. At the next-to-last step, she tripped and fell, smashing her arms and legs against the polished tiles. Heedless of the sharp sting in her palms and knees, she ran across the lawn to the bathhouse, arriving as Scott disappeared inside. She followed him through the locker room into the pool area.
A policeman was standing at the side of the pool pointing down at Sammy's crumpled body.
Later, she vaguely remembered kneeling beside Sammy, reaching her hand to brush back the matted, bloody hair from her forehead, feeling Scott's iron grasp, hearing his sharp command: "Don't touch her!" Sammy's eyes were open, her features frozen in terror, her glasses still caught on her ears but dropped down on her nose, her palms outstretched as though pushing something back. Her beige cardigan was still buttoned, the wide patch pockets suddenly prominent. "See if she has the letter to Leila," Elizabeth heard herself say. "Look in the pockets." Then her own eyes widened. The beige wool cardigan became Leila's white satin pajamas, and she was kneeling over Leila's body again… Mercifully, she fainted.
When she regained consciousness, she was lying on the bed in her bungalow. Helmut was bending over her, holding something that smelled harsh and pungent under her nostrils. Min was chafing her hands. Uncontrollable sobs racked her body, and she heard herself wailing, "Not Sammy too, not Sammy too."
Min held her tightly. " Elizabeth, don't… Don't."
Helmut muttered, "This will help you." The prick of a needle in her arm.
When she awoke, the shadows were long in the room. Nelly, the maid who had helped in the search, was touching her shoulder. "I'm so sorry to disturb you, miss," she said, "but I did bring tea and something for you to eat. The sheriff can't wait any longer. He has to talk with you."