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"Our plans are undetermined," Syd told him. "Cheryl may have to go back to Beverly Hills on short notice."
"I think it would be better if she checks with me before she goes to Beverly Hills, or anywhere else," Scott said pleasantly. "And by the way, Baron- those bags of Leila's fan mail. I'll be taking them with me."
He put down the spoon he was holding and began to push back his chair. "It's fu
To Syd's dismay, Scott's now steely glance rested squarely on Cheryl.
Twelve
It was nearly ten o'clock before they were alone in their apartment. Min had agonized all day about whether or not to confront Helmut with the proof that he had been in New York the night Leila died. To confront him was to force the admission that he had been involved with Leila. Not to confront him was to allow him to remain vulnerable. How stupid he had been not to destroy the record of the telephone call!
He went directly into his dressing room, and a few minutes later she heard the whirling of the
Jacuzzi in his bathroom. When he came back, she was waiting in one of the deep armchairs near the bedroom fireplace. Impersonally, she studied him. His hair was combed as precisely as though he were leaving for a formal ball; his silk dressing gown was knotted by a silk cord; his military posture made him seem taller than his true height. Five feet ten inches was barely above the average for men these days.
He prepared a Scotch and soda for himself and, without asking, poured a sherry for her. "It's been a difficult day, Mi
"I would not consider peach a strong color."
"It becomes strong when it is wedded with deep blue. Like me, Mi
"Then why this?" From the pocket of her robe she pulled out the telephone-credit-card bill and watched as his expression changed from bewilderment to fear. "Why did you lie to me? You were in New York that night. Were you with Leila? Had you gone to her?"
He sighed. "Mi
"Tell me now. You were in love with Leila. You were having an affair with her."
"No. I swear not."
"You're lying."
"Mi
Helmut sank to the floor at Min's feet. "Mi
Min paled. "Who got off the elevator? Did anyone see you?"
"I don't know. I ran down the fire stairs."
Then, as if his composure, his sense of order, had abandoned him, he leaned forward, his head in his hands, and began to cry.
Wednesday, September 2
QUOTE FOR THE DAY:
Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye.
– Shakespeare
Good morning, treasured guests.
Are you feeling a bit lazy this morning? Never mind. After a few days we all begin to unwind into delicious and refreshing slumber and think that maybe, just maybe this morning we shall lie abed.
No. No. We beckon to you. Join us in that wonderful and invigorating morning walk through our beautiful grounds and along the coast. You will be glad. Perhaps by now you have already learned the pleasure of meeting new friends, of revisiting old ones on our sun-bright journey.
A gentle reminder. All guests who swim in any of the pools alone must wear the regulation Spa whistle. It has never been needed, but it is a safety factor that we deem essential.
Look in the mirror. Isn't all the exercise and pampering starting to show? Aren't your eyes brighter? Isn't your skin firmer? Won't it be fun showing off the new you to your family and friends?
And a final thought. Whatever troubles you brought with you to the Spa should by now be completely forgotten. Think happy.
Baron and Baroness Helmut von Schreiber
One
Elizabeth 's phone rang at six o'clock. Sleepily she groped for it. Her eyelids were heavy and drooping. The aftereffects of the sedative made it impossible to think clearly.
It was William Murphy, the New York assistant district attorney. His opening words snapped her awake. "Miss Lange, I thought you wanted your sister's killer convicted." Without waiting for her to answer, he rushed on: "Can you please explain to me why you are in the same spa with Ted Winters?"
Elizabeth pulled herself up and swung her feet onto the floor. "I didn't know he was going to be here. I haven't been near him."
"That may be true, but the minute you saw him you should have been on the next plane home. Take a look at this morning's Globe. They've got a picture of you two in a clinch."
"I was never-"
"It was at the memorial service, but the way you're looking at each other is open to interpretation. Get out of there now! And what's this about your sister's secretary?"
"She's the reason I can't leave here." She told him about the letters, about Sammy's death. "I won't go near Ted," she promised, "but I am staying here until Friday. That gives me two days to find the letter Dora was carrying or to figure out who took it from her."
She would not change her mind, and finally Murphy hung up with a parting shot: "If your sister's killer walks, look to yourself for the reason." He paused. "And I told you before: Be careful!"
She jogged into Carmel. The New York papers would be on the stands there. Once again it was a glorious late-summer day. Sleek limousines and Mercedes convertibles followed each other on the road to the golf course. Other joggers waved at her amiably. Privacy hedges protected the estate homes from the curious eyes of the tourists, but in between, glimpses of the Pacific could be seen. A glorious day to be alive, Elizabeth thought, and she shuddered at the mental image of Sammy's body in the morgue.
Over coffee in a breakfast shop on Ocean Avenue, she read the Globe. Someone had snapped that picture at the end of the memorial service. She had started to weep. Ted was beside her. His arm had come around her and he'd turned her to him. She tried not to remember how it had felt to be in his arms.
With a surge of heartsick contempt for herself, she laid money on the table and left the restaurant.
On the way out she tossed the paper into a waste-basket. She wondered who at the Spa had tipped off the Globe. It could have been one of the staff, Min and Helmut were plagued with leaks. It could have been one of the guests who in exchange for personal publicity fed items to the columnists. It also could have been Cheryl.
When she got back to her bungalow, Scott was sitting on the porch waiting for her. "You're an early bird," she told him.