Mary Clark - Weep No More, My Lady

She felt the night air on her face; gasped in one shuddering breath as, his arm around her neck, he dragged her along the top of the pool; heard his own breath, straining, choking, drowning out the sounds she was making.

And then she felt before she saw the heavy figure bear down on them and managed to pull in one great gulp of air before the water again covered her face.

Ted's arm tightened. She felt him flailing out. Craig was trying to kill both of them. Nothing mattered to Craig except to destroy them now. The water pressed against her eardrums. She could not fight Ted's grip. She felt the push as he tried to shove her toward the surface, felt Craig's grasp on her ankle and managed to kick it away.

On the surface she could see the cars pulling up, hear the shouts. Elizabeth gulped in air, once, twice, filled her lungs and then dived down, down to where Ted was fighting for his life. She knew where Craig was; the arc of her descent was directly over his head. He was squeezing Ted's neck. She reached both hands down. Lights were beaming over the water. She could see the silhouette of Craig's arms, the desperate struggle of Ted's body. She would have only one chance.

Now. She kicked-a sharp, cutting movement of her legs. She was directly over Craig. In a savage thrust, she managed to get her fingers under his face mask. He reached up, and she recoiled from the shove that made her head snap backward, but held on to the mask, held on until she had wrenched it away from his face.

She held it while he groped for it, while his arms grabbed her body, while he tried to pull it from her, held it until she felt him being pulled away from her, held it until, lungs bursting, she found herself being hauled to the surface, still in his grasp.

She could breathe at last. She choked in great gulping sobs as Ted finally relinquished his grip on Craig to the policemen who surrounded them in the water. Then, like two figures drawn by an irresistible magnetic force, she and Ted drifted to each other, and clinging together made their way to the ladder at the end of the pool…

QUOTE FOR THE DAY:

Dear Spa guests,

Some of you will be leaving us today. Remember, our only concern has been you, your well-being, your health, your beauty. Go into the world knowing that you have been loved and cared for here at Cypress Point Spa, that we are longing for your return. Soon our magnificent Roman bathhouse will be completed. It will be the unparalleled and consummate experience. There will be separate hours for the women and men except between four and six, when we shall enjoy mixed bathing in the European fashion, a very special delight indeed.

Hurry back for another retreat into pampering and health-awareness in the serene atmosphere of Cypress Point Spa.

Baron and Baroness Helmut von Schreiber

The morning dawned clear and bright. The early-morning fog evaporated with the bright warmth of a glowing sun. Sea gulls and blackbirds swept high over the surf and returned to perch on the rocky dunes.

At Cypress Point Spa, the remaining guests followed their schedules. Water classes were held in the Olympic pool; masseurs kneaded muscles and pounded layers of fat; pampered bodies were wrapped in herbal-scented sheets; the business of beauty and luxury continued to function.

Scott had asked Min and Helmut, Syd and Cheryl, Elizabeth and Ted to meet him at eleven. They gathered in the music salon, the door closed, removed from the eyes and ears of the curious guests and staff.

Elizabeth remembered the rest of the night as a blur: Ted holding her… someone wrapping the robe around her… Dr. Whitley ordering her to bed.

Ted knocked at the door of her bungalow at ten of eleven. They walked up the path together, hands entwined, not needing to say what was between them.

Min and the Baron sat side by side. Min's face was weary but somehow more at peace, Elizabeth thought. There was something of the old Min in the steely determination in her eyes. The Baron, still so absolutely perfect in every hair on his head, his sport shirt resting on him with the ease of an ermine robe, his posture aloof, his assurance regained. For him too, the night had exorcised demons.

Cheryl's eyes moved restlessly toward Ted, narrowed when they found his face. With her sharp-tipped tongue she licked her lips like a cat about to pounce on a forbidden dish of cream.

Next to her, Syd lounged. There was something about him that had been missing: the casual confidence of success.

Ted sat beside her, his arm thrown over the back of her chair, his manner protective and watchful as though he feared she would slip away from him.

"I think we've come to the end of the road." The fatigue in Scott's voice suggested that he had not spent the long hours of the night in bed." Craig has retained Henry Bartlett, who urged him not to make a statement. However, when I read Elizabeth 's letter to him, he admitted everything.

"Let me read that letter to you now." Scott pulled it from his pocket.

Dear Scott,

There is only one way I can prove what I suspect, and I'm about to do that now. It may not work, but if anything happens to me, I think it will be because Craig has decided I'm coming too close to the truth.

Tonight I practically accused Syd and the Baron of causing Leila's death. I hope that will be sufficient bait to make Craig feel secure in attempting to harm me. I believe it will happen at the pool. I think he was there the other night. I can only rely on the fact that I can outswim anyone, and if he tries to attack me, he will have exposed himself. If he succeeds, go after him-for me and for Leila.

By now you will have heard the tapes. Have you caught how upset he sounded when Alvirah Meehan was asking so many questions? He tried to cut Ted off when Ted said that Craig could fool people by imitating him.

I thought I heard Ted shout at Leila to put the phone down. I thought I heard her say, " You're not a falcon ." But Leila was sobbing. That's why I misunderstood. Helmut was nearby. He heard her say, " You're not Falcon ." He heard accurately. I did not.

That tape of Alvirah Meehan in the treatment room. Listen carefully. That first voice. It sounds like the Baron, but there's something wrong. I think it was Craig imitating the Baron's voice.

Scott, there's no proof of any of this. The only proof will be obtained if Craig has found me too dangerous.

We'll see what happens. There is one thing I know and probably have always known in my heart. Ted is incapable of murder, and I don't care how many witnesses come forward to claim they saw him kill Leila.

Elizabeth

Scott put down the letter and looked sternly at Elizabeth. "I wish you had trusted me to help you. You almost lost your life."

"It was the only way," Elizabeth said. "But what did he do to Mrs. Meehan?"

"An insulin injection. As you know, during college he worked summers at the hospital in Hanover. He picked up a lot of medical knowledge those years. But initially the insulin wasn't meant for Alvirah Meehan." Scott looked at Elizabeth. "He had become convinced you were dangerous. He had planned to find a way to do away with you in New York this week, before the trial. But when Ted decided to come here, Craig persuaded Min to invite you too. He persuaded her that you might back off from testifying against Ted once you saw him. What he wanted was a chance to arrange an accident. Alvirah Meehan became a threat. He already had the means to get rid of her." Scott stood up. "And now I'm going home."

At the door he paused. "Just one last observation I'd like to make. You, Baron, and you, Syd, were willing to obstruct justice when you thought Ted was guilty. By taking the law into your own hands, you did him no favors and may indirectly have been responsible for Sammy's death and Mrs. Meehan's attack."