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Five minutes later, Syd was confronting a hysterical Cheryl Ma
"Let go. You're hurting me. I don't know." Cheryl tried to shrink away from him. "I can't lose that part. I can't. I am Amanda."
"You bet you can't lose that part!" Syd shoved her backward, and she toppled against the couch.
Fury replaced fear. Cheryl brushed back her hair and clenched her teeth. Her mouth became a thin, menacing slash. "Do you always push when you're angry, Syd? You'd better get something straight. You tore up that letter. I didn't. And I didn't write that letter, or any others. Scott doesn't believe me. So you march yourself over to him and tell him the truth: that I pla
They glared at each other. In a frenzy of frustration, Syd realized that she might be telling the truth and that by destroying the letter he might have thrown away the series. If one hint of unfavorable publicity hit the papers before Friday… If Scott refused to let Cheryl leave the Spa…
"I've got to think," he said. "I'll figure something out."
He had one last card to play.
The question was how to play it.
Five
When Ted returned to his bungalow, he found Henry Bartlett and Craig waiting for him. A jubilant Bartlett did not seem to notice his silence. "I think we've had a break," he a
Ted leaned back and folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. It seemed so long ago.
"Ted, at least here I can help you." Craig's enthusiasm was a quality that had for a long time been missing from his voice and demeanor. "You kept Elizabeth 's schedule on your desk. I can swear that you adjusted your travel plans so that you'd be able to see her."
Ted did not open his eyes. "Will you kindly explain that?"
Henry Bartlett had been driven past irritation. "Listen, Mr. Winters. I wasn't hired to take on this case so that you could wipe your feet on me. It's the rest of your life; but it's also my professional reputation. If you can't or won't cooperate in your own defense, maybe it's not too late for you to get another attorney." He shoved his files across the table and watched as papers spilled from them. "You insisted on coming here when it would have been much better to have ready access to my staff. You disappeared for a long walk yesterday when we were supposed to work. You were supposed to be here an hour ago and we're twiddling our thumbs waiting for you. You've blackballed one line of defense that might work. Now we have a decent shot at destroying Elizabeth Lange's credibility as a witness and you're not interested."
Ted opened his eyes. Slowly he lowered his arms until they rested on the table. "Oh, but I am interested. Tell me about it."
Bartlett chose to ignore the sarcasm. "Listen, we're going to be able to produce a facsimile of two letters Leila received that suggest you were involved with someone else. Cheryl is one possibility as that someone else. We know she'd say anything. But there's a better way. You did try to coordinate your schedule with Elizabeth 's-"
Ted interrupted him. "Elizabeth and I were very good friends. We liked each other. We enjoyed each other's company. If I had my choice of being in Chicago on Wednesday and Dallas on Friday or the other way around, and found that a good friend with whom I could enjoy a late supper and relax was in those same cities, yes, I would arrange my schedule to do that. So what?"
"Come off it, Ted. You did it half a dozen times in the same weeks that Leila started to fall apart- when she was receiving those letters."
Ted shrugged.
"Ted, Henry is trying to plan your defense," Craig snapped. "At least pay attention to him."
Bartlett continued. "What we are trying to show you is this: Step One. Leila was receiving letters saying that you were involved with someone else. Step Two. Craig is witness to the fact that you synchronized your schedule with Elizabeth 's. Step Three. In her own handwriting, Leila made the obvious co
Ted studied it. He remembered the moment at the end of the service when some fool had asked the organist to play "My Old Kentucky Home." Leila had told him about singing that to Elizabeth when they took off for New York. Beside him, Elizabeth had gasped; then the tears that she'd held back flooded her face. He'd put his arms around her, turned her to him and whispered, "Don't, Sparrow."
"She was in love with you," Henry continued. "When she realized that for you it was simply a flirtation, she turned on you. She took advantage of that wacko's crazy accusation to destroy you. I'm telling you, Teddy, we may be able to make this stick."
Ted tore the paper in half. "Apparently, my job is to be the devil's advocate. Let's suppose your scenario is true. Elizabeth was in love with me. But let's carry it one step further. Suppose I had come to realize that life with Leila would be a succession of constant ups and downs, of tantrums, of an insecurity that resulted in jealous accusations every time I spoke pleasantly to another woman. Suppose I'd come to realize that Leila was an actress first, last and always, that she didn't want a child. Suppose I'd realized that in Elizabeth I had found something I'd been looking for all my life."
Ted slammed his fist on the table. "Don't you know that you have just given me the very best reason in the world for killing Leila? Because do you think that Elizabeth would have looked at me twice while her sister was alive?" He pushed back his chair with a vehemence that caused it to topple over. "Why don't you two play golf or go for a swim or do anything that makes you feel good? Don't waste your time here. I don't plan to."
Bartlett 's face turned crimson. "I've had enough," he snapped. "Listen, Mr. Winters, you may know how to run hotels, but you don't know a damn thing about what goes on in a criminal courtroom. You hired me to keep you out of prison, but I can't do it alone. What's more, I don't intend to. Either you start cooperating with me or get yourself another lawyer."
"Calm down, Henry," Craig said.
"No, I won't calm down. I don't need this case. I can possibly win it, but not the way it's going now." He pointed at Ted. "If you are so sure that any defense I raise won't work, why don't you plea-bargain right now? I might get you a maximum of seven to ten years. Is that what you want? Say so. Or else sit down at that table."
Ted picked up the chair he had knocked over. "Let's get to work," he said tonelessly. "I probably owe you an apology. I realize you're the best in your field, but I guess you can understand how trapped I feel. Do you really think there is a chance for an acquittal?"
"I've gotten acquittals in cases as rough as this," Bartlett told him. "What you don't seem to fathom," he added, "is that being guilty has nothing to do with the verdict."