Mary Clark: Weep No More, My Lady

"It was just that: a performance. I can't prove anything. If they stick together, there isn't a shred of evidence."

"Do you have any more of those letters that Leila was receiving?"

"No. I was bluffing about that."

"That's a shocker about the new witness."

"I was bluffing about that too. He was in jail that evening, but he was released on bond at eight o'clock. Leila died at nine thirty-one. The most they can do is cast doubt on his credibility."

She leaned against him as they reached her bungalow. "Oh, Craig, it's all so crazy, isn't it? I feel as if I'm digging and digging for the vein of truth the way the old prospectors dug for a vein of gold…

The only trouble is I'm out of time, so I had to start blasting. But at the very least, I may have upset one of them enough so that he-or she-will make a slip."

His hand smoothed her hair. "You're going back tomorrow?"

"Yes. How about you?"

"Ted still hasn't turned up. He may be on a bender. I can't say I blame him. Though it wouldn't be like him… Obviously, we'll wait for him. But when this is over, when you're ready-promise that you'll call me."

"And get your Japanese-houseboy imitation on the recorder? Oh, I forgot. You said you changed it. Why did you do that, Craig? I always thought it was pretty funny. So did Leila."

He looked embarrassed. She did not wait for him to answer.

"This place used to be such fun," Elizabeth murmured. "Remember when Leila invited you here that first time, before Ted came?"

"Of course I remember."

"How did you meet Leila? I forget."

"She was staying at the Beverly Winters. I sent flowers to her suite. She called to thank me, and we had a drink. She was on her way here, and she invited me along…"

"And then she met Ted…" Elizabeth kissed his cheek. "Pray that whatever I've done tonight works. If Ted is innocent, I want him off just as badly as you do."

"I know you do. You're in love with him, aren't you?"

"I have been from that first day you introduced him to Leila and me."

Inside the bungalow, Elizabeth put on her swim-suit and robe. She went to the desk and wrote a long letter addressed to Scott Alshorne. Then she rang for the maid. It was a new girl, one she'd never seen before, but she had to take the chance. She put the envelope for Scott inside a new one and scribbled a brief note. "Give this to Vicky in the morning," she instructed the girl. "No one else. Is that clear?"

"Of course." The girl was slightly offended.

"Thank you." Elizabeth watched the girl leave and wondered what she would say if she could have read the note to Vicky.

It read: " In case of my death, deliver this to Sheriff Alshorne immediately ."

At eight o'clock, Ted walked into a private room in the Monterey Peninsula hospital. Dr. Whitley introduced a psychiatrist who was waiting to administer the injection. A video camera had already been set up. Scott and a deputy sheriff were to be witnesses to the statements given under sodium pentothal.

"I still think you ought to have your lawyer here," Scott told him.

Ted was grim-faced. " Bartlett has been the very one urging me not to undergo this test. I don't intend to waste any more time talking about it. Let the truth come out."

He slipped his feet out of his shoes and lay down on the contour couch.

A few minutes after the injection had taken effect he began to answer questions about the last hour he spent with Leila.

"She kept accusing me of cheating on her. Had pictures of me with other women. Group pictures. I told her that that was part of my job. The hotels. I was never with any woman alone. I tried to reason with her. She had been drinking all day. I was drinking with her. Sick of it. I warned her she had to trust me; I couldn't face those scenes the rest of my life. She told me she knew I was trying to break off with her. Leila. Leila. She went wild. I tried to calm her down. She scratched my hands. The phone rang. It was Elizabeth. Leila kept shouting at me. I got out. Went to my apartment downstairs. Looked at myself in the mirror. Blood on my cheek. On my hands. Tried to phone Craig. Knew I couldn't live like that anymore. Knew it was over. But thought maybe Leila would do something to herself. Better stay with her till I can get Elizabeth. God, I'm so drunk. The elevator. Leila's floor. Door open. Leila screaming."

Scott leaned forward intently. "What is she screaming, Ted?"

" Don't. Don't ." Ted was trembling, shaking his head, his expression shocked and disbelieving.

"Ted, what do you see? What happened?"

"Push door open. Room is dark. The terrace. Leila. Hold on. Hold on. Help her. Christ, grab her! Don't let her fall! Don't let Mommy fall !"

Ted began to sob-deep, racking sounds that filled the room. His body twitched convulsively.

"Ted, who did that to her?"

"Hands. Just see hands. She's gone. It's my father ." His words became broken. "Leila's dead. Daddy pushed her. Daddy killed her."

The psychiatrist looked at Scott. "You won't get any more now. Either that's all he knows or he still can't bring himself to face the entire truth."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Scott whispered. "How soon will he come out of it?"

"Pretty fast. He'd better rest awhile."

John Whitley stood up. "I want to look in on Mrs. Meehan. I'll be right back."

"I'd like to go with you." The cameraman was packing his equipment. "Drop the tape in my office," Scott told him. He turned to his deputy. "Stay here. Don't let Mr. Winters leave."

The head nurse in the ICU was visibly excited. "We were just about to send for you, Doctor. Mrs. Meehan seems to be coming out of the coma."

"She said 'voices' again." Willy Meehan's face was alive with hope. "Just as clear. I don't know what she meant, but she knew what she was trying to say."

"Does that mean she's out of danger?" Scott asked Dr. Whitley.

John Whitley studied the chart and reached for Alvirah's pulse. His answer was low enough that Willy Meehan could not hear him. "Not necessarily. But it sure is a good sign. Whatever prayers you know, start saying them now."

Alvirah's lids fluttered open. She was looking straight ahead, and as her eyes focused, they rested on Scott. A look of urgency came over her face. "Voices," she whispered. "Wasn't."

Scott bent over her. "Mrs. Meehan, I don't understand."

Alvirah felt the way she did when she used to clean old Mrs. Smythe's house. Mrs. Smythe was always telling her to push the piano out and get at the dust behind it. It was like trying to push the piano but so much more important. She wanted to tell them who had hurt her but she couldn't think of his name. She could see him plain as plain, but she couldn't remember his name. Desperately she tried to communicate with the sheriff. "Wasn't the doctor did that to me… wasn't his voice… Someone else…" She closed her eyes and felt herself slipping into sleep.

"She's getting better," Willy Meehan whispered exultantly. "She's trying to tell you something."

"Wasn't the doctor… wasn't his voice…" What the hell did she mean ? Scott asked himself.

He rushed to the room where Ted was waiting. Ted was sitting up now in the small plastic armchair, his hands folded in front of him. "I opened the door," he said tonelessly. "Hands were holding Leila over the railing. I could just see the white satin billowing; her arms were flailing…"

"You couldn't see who was holding her?"

"It was so fast. I think I tried to call out, and then she was gone and whoever it was just disappeared. He must have run along the terrace."

"Have you any idea of his size?"

"No, it was as if I was watching my father when he did that to my mother. I even saw my father's face." He looked up at Scott. "And I haven't helped you, or myself, have I?"