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Elizabeth watched as he thumbed through the cassettes. Three of them were marked in numerical sequence. The rest were blank. Scott shrugged, put them back and closed the bag. He left a few minutes later. Elizabeth walked with him to his car. On the ride over, she had not told him her suspicion that Helmut might have written the play. She wanted to be sure first, to demand the truth from Helmut himself. It was still possible that Clayton Anderson existed, she told herself.
It was exactly six o'clock when Scott's car disappeared past the gates. It was getting cool. Elizabeth shoved her hands into her pockets and felt the sunburst pin. She had taken it off Alvirah's robe after the ambulance left. Obviously it had great sentimental value.
They had sent for Alvirah's husband. She would give the pin to him tomorrow.
Ten
Ted returned to his bungalow from town at six thirty P.M. He had come back the long way, through the Crocker Woodland, to the service entrance of the Spa. He hadn't missed the cars, half-hidden in the brush beside the road leading to the Cypress Point grounds. Reporters. Like dogs on a scent, following the lead that the Globe article suggested…
He peeled off his sweater. It had been too hot to wear-but on the other hand, at this time of year you could be surprised on the Peninsula. The winds could shift and become favorable or unfavorable at a moment's notice.
He drew the shades, switched on the lights and was startled to see the gleam of dark hair that rose over the back of the couch. It was Min. "It is important that I speak with you." The tone was the same he'd always known. Warm and authoritative, a curious blend that at one time had inspired confidence. She was wearing a long, sleeveless jacket over some sort of glittery one-piece outfit.
Ted sat opposite her and lit a cigarette. "I gave these up years ago, but it's amazing how many bad habits you can take on again when you're faced with a lifetime in prison. So much for discipline. I'm not very presentable, Min-but then, I'm not used to having unexpected guests in quite this way."
"Unexpected and uninvited." Min's eyes swept over him. "You've been jogging?"
"No. I've been walking. Quite a long distance. It gives one time to think."
"Your thoughts can't be very pleasant these days."
"No. They're not." Ted waited.
"May I have one of those?" Min indicated the pack of cigarettes he had tossed on the table.
Ted offered her one and lit it for her.
"I too gave them up, but in times of stress…" Min shrugged. "I gave up many things in my life while I was clawing my way up. Well, you know how it is… launching a model agency and trying to keep it going when there was no money corning in… marrying a sick old man and being his nurse, his mistress, his companion for five endless years… Oh, I thought I had reached a point of certain security. I thought I had earned it."
"And you haven't?"
Min waved a hand. "It's lovely here, isn't it? This spot is ideal. The Pacific at our feet, the magnificent coastline, the weather, the comfort and beauty of these accommodations, the unparalleled facilities of the Spa… Even Helmut's monstrosity of a Roman bath could be a stu
No wonder she's here, Ted thought. She couldn't risk talking to me with Craig around.
It was as though Min read his mind. "I know what Craig would advise. But Ted, you're the entrepreneur, the daring businessman. You and I think alike. Helmut is utterly impractical-I know that; but he also has vision. What he needs, and has always needed, is the money to bring his dreams to fruition. Do you remember a conversation we had- the three of us-when your damn bulldog Craig wasn't around? We talked about your putting a Cypress Point Spa in all your new hotels. It's a fabulous idea. It would work."
"Min, if I'm in prison, there won't be new hotels. We've stopped building since the indictment. You know that."
"Then lend me money now." Min's mask dropped. "Ted, I am desperate. I will be bankrupt in weeks. It need not be! This place lost something in these past few years. Helmut has not been bringing in new guests. I think I know now why he's been in a terrible state. But it could change. Why do you think I brought Elizabeth here? To help you."
"Min, you saw her reaction to me. If anything, you've made things worse."
"I'm not sure about that. This afternoon I begged her to reconsider. I told her she would never forgive herself if she destroyed you." Min crushed the cigarette into the ashtray. "Ted, I know what I'm saying. Elizabeth is in love with you. She always has been. Make it work for you. It's not too late." She grasped his arm.
He shook off her grip. "Min, you don't know what you're talking about."
"I'm telling you what I know. It's something I sensed from the first time she laid eyes on you. Don't you know how difficult it was for her to be around you and Leila, wanting Leila to be happy, loving you both? She was torn in two. That's why she took that play before Leila died. It wasn't a role she wanted. Sammy talked to me about it. She saw it too. Ted, Elizabeth is fighting you because she feels guilty. She knows Leila goaded you beyond endurance. Make it work for you! And Ted, I beg you- help me now! Please! I beg you."
With naked appeal she looked at him. He had been perspiring, and his dark brown hair was matted in ringlets and waves. A woman would kill for that head of hair, Min thought. His high cheekbones accentuated the narrow, perfectly shaped nose. His lips were even, his jaw just square enough to impart a look of strength to his face. His shirt was clinging to his body. His limbs were ta
"Min, I can't go ahead with spas in hotels that won't be built if I go to prison. I can bail you out now, and I will. But let me ask you something: has it ever occurred to you that Elizabeth might be wrong, might be mistaken about the time? Has it even occurred to you that I'm telling the truth, when I say I did not go back upstairs?"
Min's smile of relief turned to astonishment. "Ted, you can trust me. You can trust Helmut. He hasn't told a soul except me… He never will tell a soul… He heard you shouting at Leila. He heard her begging for her life."
Eleven
Should she have told Scott what she suspected about the Baron? Elizabeth wondered as she went into the welcome calm of her bungalow. Her senses absorbed the emerald-and-white color scheme. Splashy print on thick white carpeting. She could almost imagine there was a lingering hint of Joy mixed with the salty sea air.
Leila.
Red hair. Emerald eyes. The pale skin of the natural redhead. The billowing white satin pajamas that she'd been wearing when she died. Those yards of material must have floated around her as she fell.
My God. My God. Elizabeth slipped the double lock and huddled on the couch, her head in her hands, appalled at the vision of Leila, floating down through the night to her death…
Helmut. Had he written Merry-Go-Round? If so, had he cleaned out Min's untouchable Swiss account to finance it? He would have been frantic when Leila said she was quitting the show. How frantic?
Alvirah Meehan. The ambulance attendants. The speck of blood on Alvirah's face. The incredulous tone when the paramedic spoke to Helmut: "What do you mean you hadn't started the injections? Who do you think you're kidding?"
Helmut's hands compressing Alvirah's chest… Helmut starting the intravenous… But Helmut must have been frantic hearing Alvirah talk about "a butterfly floating on a cloud." Alvirah had seen a preview of the play. Leila had made the co