Weep No More My Lady by Mary Higgins Clark Page A

thought of the scuba equipment earlier? Wearing the oxygen tank would make it possible for him to hold her at the bottom of the pool until he was certain she was dead. The wet suit, the gloves, the mask, the goggles were a perfect disguise, if anyone happened to see him cutting across the grounds.
    He watched as she began to swim toward the steps. The impulse to get rid of her now was almost overwhelming. Tomorrow night, he promised himself. Carefully he moved closer as she placed her foot on the bottom step of the ladder and straightened up. His narrowed eyes strained to watch as she slipped on her robe and began to walk along the path to her bungalow.
    Tomorrow night he would be waiting here for her. The next morning someone would spot her body at the bottom of the pool, as the workman had spotted Leila’s body in the courtyard.
    And he would have nothing left to fear.

Monday,
August 31
    QUOTE FOR THE DAY:
A witty woman is a treasure; a witty beauty is a power.
    â€”GEORGE MEREDITH
    GOOD MORNING, DEAR GUESTS.
    We hope you have slept blissfully. The weatherman promises us yet another beautiful Cypress Point Spa day.
    A little reminder. Some of us are forgetting to fill out our luncheon menu. We don’t want you to have to wait for service after all that vigorous exercise and delicious pampering of the morning. So do please take a tiny moment to circle your choices before you leave your room now.
    In just a moment, we’ll be greeting you on our morning walk Hurry and join us.
    And remember, another day at Cypress Point Spa means another set of dazzling hours dedicated to making you a more beautiful person, the kind of person people long to be with, to touch, to love.
    Baron and Baroness Helmut von Schreiber

1
    ELIZABETH WOKE LONG BEFORE DAWN ON MONDAY MORNING. Even the swim had not performed its usual magic. For what seemed most of the night, she had been troubled with broken dreams, fragments that came and went intermittently. They were all in the dreams: Mama, Leila, Ted, Craig, Syd, Cheryl, Sammy, Min, Helmut—even Leila’s two husbands, those transitory charlatans who had used her success to get themselves into the spotlight: the first an actor, the second a would-be producer and socialite. . . .
    At six o’clock she got out of bed, pulled up the shade, then huddled back under the light covers. It was chilly, but she loved to watch the sun come up. It seemed to her that the early morning had a dreamy quality of its own, the human quiet was so absolute. The only sounds came from the seabirds along the shore.
    At six thirty there was a tap on the door. Vicky, the maid who brought in the wake-up glass of juice, had been with the Spa for years. She was a sturdy sixty-year-old woman who supplemented her husband’s pension by what she sardonically called “carrying breakfast roses to fading blossoms.” They greeted each other with the warmth of old friends.
    â€œIt feels strange to be on the guest end of the place,” Elizabeth commented.
    â€œYou earned your right to be here. I saw you in Hilltop. You’re a damn good actress.”
    â€œI still feel surer of myself teaching water aerobics.”
    â€œAnd Princess Di can always get a job teaching kindergarten. Come off it.”
    She deliberately waited until she was sure that the daily procession called The Cypress Hike was in progress. By the time she went out, the marchers, led by Min and the Baron, were already nearing the path that led to the coast. The hike took in the Spa property, the Crocker wooded preserve and Cypress Point, wound past the Pebble Beach golf course,circled the Lodge and backtracked to the Spa. In all, it was a brisk fifty-minute exercise, followed by breakfast.
    Elizabeth waited until the hikers were out of sight before she began jogging in the opposite direction from them. It was still early, and traffic was light. She would have preferred to run along the coast, where she could have an