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Six
Somehow Min managed to get through the rest of the morning. She was too busy fielding phone calls from the media to even think of the scene in the office between Elizabeth and Ted's lawyer. They had all left immediately after the blowup: Bartlett and Elizabeth furious, Craig distressed, Scott grim-faced. Helmut had escaped to the clinic. He had known she wanted to talk to him. He had avoided her this morning as he'd avoided her last night, when after telling her that he'd heard Ted attacking Leila, he'd locked himself in his study.
Who in hell had tipped off the press that Elizabeth and Ted were here? She answered the persistent inquiries with her standard reply: "We never release the names of our guests." She was told that both Elizabeth and Ted had been spotted in Carmel. "No comment."
Any other time she'd have loved the publicity. But now? She was asked if there was anything unusual about her secretary's death. "Certainly not."
At noon she told the operator to hold all calls and went to the women's spa. She was relieved to see that the atmosphere there was normal. There seemed to be no more talk about Sammy's death. She made it a point to chat with the guests lunching around the pool. Alvirah Meehan was there. She had spotted Scott's car and tried to pepper Min with questions about his presence.
When Min got back to the main house she went directly up to the apartment. Helmut was sitting on the couch, sipping a cup of tea. His face was a sickly gray. "Ah, Mi
She did not return it. "We have got to talk," she told him abruptly. "What is the real reason you went to Leila's apartment that night? Were you having an affair with her? Tell me the truth!"
The cup rattled in the saucer as he put it down. "An affair! Mi
Min watched as his face blotched and his hands clenched. "Do you think I was amused at the way she ridiculed me? An affair with her?" He slammed his fist on the cocktail table. "Mi
"Liar!" Min rushed over to him, bent down and grabbed his lapels. "Look at me. I tell you, look at me. Stop the phony aristocratic crap and the dramatics. You were dazzled by Leila. What man wasn't? Every time you looked at her, you raped her with your eyes. You were all like that, the pack of you. Ted. Syd. Even that clod, Craig. But you were the worst. Love. Hate. It's all one. And in your entire life, you've never put yourself out for anyone. I want the truth. Why did you go to her that night?" She released him, suddenly drained and exhausted.
He jumped to his feet. His hand brushed the tea-cup and it tipped over, sending splatters of tea onto the table and carpet. "Mi
"I saw that dreary woman an hour ago," Min said. "You've made yet another conquest. She was gushing about how talented you are and how you are going to make her feel like a butterfly floating on a cloud. If I hear that idiotic expression from her once more…"
She broke off. Helmut's knees had begun to sag. She grabbed him before he could fall. "Tell me what is wrong!" she shrieked. "Tell me what you've done!"
Seven
When she left Min's office, Elizabeth rushed back to her bungalow, furious at herself for allowing Bartlett to goad her. He would say anything, do anything to discredit her testimony, and she was playing into his hands.
To distract herself, she opened the script of Leila's play. But the words were a jumble. She could not focus on them.
Was there the ring of truth to Bartlett 's accusations? Had Ted deliberately sought her out?
She thumbed through the script restlessly, deciding to read it later. Then her glance fell on one of Leila's marginal notes. Shocked, she sank down on the couch and turned back to the first page.
Merry-Go-Round. A comedy by Clayton Anderson.
She read the play through rapidly, then sat for a long time totally absorbed in her thoughts. Finally she reached for a pen and pad and began rereading slowly, making her own notations.
At two thirty she laid the pen down. Pages of the pad were filled with her jottings. She became aware that she had skipped lunch, that her head ached dully. Some of Leila's markings in the margin had been almost indecipherable, but eventually she'd made them all out.
Clayton Anderson. The playwright of Merry-Go-Round. The wealthy college professor who had invested one million dollars of his own money in the play, but whose true identity was known to no one. Who was he? He had known Leila intimately.
She phoned the main house. The operator told her that Baroness von Schreiber was in her apartment but was not to be disturbed. "I'll be right there," Elizabeth told her crisply. "Tell the Baroness I have to see her."
Min was in bed. She did look ill. There was no bravado, no bossihess in her demeanor or voice. 'Well, Elizabeth?"
She's afraid of me, Elizabeth thought. With a rush of her old affection she sat by the bed. "Min, why did you bring me here?"
Min shrugged. "Because believe it or not, I was worried about you, because I love you."
"I believe that. And the other reason?"
"Because I am appalled at the idea that Ted may spend the rest of his life in prison. Sometimes people do terrible things in anger, because they are out of control, things they might never do if they were not goaded beyond their ability to stop themselves. I believe that happened. I know that happened to Ted."
"What do you mean you know that happened?"
"Nothing… nothing." Min closed her eyes. " Elizabeth, you do what you must. But I warn you. You will have to live with destroying Ted for the rest of your life. Someday you will again face Leila. I think she will not thank you. You know how she was after she had been utterly outrageous. Contrite. Loving. Generous. All of it."
"Min, isn't there another reason why you want Ted to be acquitted? It has to do with this place, doesn't it?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that just before Leila died, Ted was considering putting a Cypress Point Spa in all his new hotels. What happened to that plan?"
"Ted has not gone ahead with plans for new hotels since his indictment."
"Exactly. So there are a couple of reasons why you want Ted acquitted. Min, who is Clayton Anderson?"
"I have no idea. Elizabeth, I am very tired. Perhaps we can talk later."
"Min, come on. You're not that tired." The sharper tone in her voice made Min open her eyes and pull herself up on the pillows. I was right, Elizabeth thought. She's not so much sick as afraid. "Min, I just read and re-read that play Leila was in. I saw it with all of you that last preview, but I didn't pay attention to it. I was too worried about Leila. Min, someone who knew Leila inside and out wrote that play. That's why it was so perfect for her. Someone even used Helmut's expressions in it-'a butterfly floating on a cloud.' Leila noticed it too. She had a notation in the margin: 'Tell the Baron someone is stealing his thunder.' Min…"
They stared at each other as the same thought struck them. "Helmut wrote the ads for this place," Elizabeth whispered. "He writes the daily bulletins. Maybe there is no wealthy college professor. Min, did Helmut write the play?"