Weep No More My Lady (2 page)

Her husband entered the room as she was talking. He waited until the call was completed, then burst out, “You did invite her, then?”

Min looked up, defiantly. “Yes, I did.”

Helmut von Schreiber frowned. His china-blue eyes darkened. “After
all my warnings? Minna, Elizabeth could pull this house of cards down around our ears. By the end of the week, you will regret that invitation as you have never regretted anything in your life.”

Elizabeth decided to get her call to the district attorney over with immediately. William Murphy was obviously glad to hear from her. “Miss Lange, I just started to sweat you out.”

“I told you I'd be back today. I wouldn't have expected to find you in on Saturday.”

“There's a lot of work. We definitely go to trial on September eighth.”

“I read that.”

“I'll need to review your testimony with you so it will be fresh in your mind.”

“It's never
not
been in my mind,” Elizabeth said.

“I understand. But I have to discuss the kind of questions the defense attorney will ask you. I suggest you come in on Monday for several hours and then let's plan to have long sessions next weekend. You
will
be around?”

“I'm leaving tomorrow morning,” she told him. “Can't we talk about everything on Friday?”

She was dismayed at the answer. “I'd rather have one preliminary meeting. It's only three o'clock. You could be down here in a cab in fifteen minutes.”

Reluctantly she agreed. Glancing at Sammy's letter, she decided to wait until she came back to read it. At least it would be something to look forward to. Showering quickly, she twisted her hair into a topknot and put on a blue cotton jumpsuit and sandals.

Half an hour later, she was sitting across from the assistant district attorney in his crowded office. The furniture consisted of his desk, three chairs and a row of battleship-gray steel files. There were expandable cardboard files piled on his desk, on the floor and on top of the metal cabinets. William Murphy seemed unaware of the messiness of his work space—or else, Elizabeth thought, he had finally come to terms with what could not be changed.

A balding, chubby-faced man in his late thirties with a strong New York accent, Murphy conveyed an impression of keen intelligence and
driving energy. After the grand jury hearings, he had told her that her testimony was the main reason Ted had been indicted. She knew he considered that high praise.

Now he opened a thick file:
The People of the State of New York
v.
Andrew Edward Winters III.
“I know how hard this is for you,” he said. “You're going to be forced to relive your sister's death, and with that all the pain you experienced. And you're going to testify against a man you liked and trusted.”

“Ted killed Leila; the man I knew doesn't exist.”

“There are no ‘ifs' in this case. He deprived your sister of her life; it's my job—with your help—to see that he's deprived of his freedom. The trial will be a terrible ordeal for you, but I promise that once it's over it will be easier to get on with your own life. After you are sworn, you will be asked to state your name. I know ‘Lange' is your stage name. Be sure to tell the jury your legal name is LaSalle. Let's review your testimony again.

“You will be asked if you lived with your sister.”

“No, when I left college I got my own apartment.”

“Are your parents living?”

“No, my mother died three years after Leila and I came to New York, and I never knew my father.”

“Now let's review again your testimony, starting with the day before the murder.”

“I had been out of town for three months with a stock company. . . . I got in on Friday night, March twenty-eighth, just in time to catch the last preview of Leila's play.”

“How did you find your sister?”

“She was obviously under a terrible strain; she kept forgetting her lines. Her performance was a shambles. Between acts I went to her dressing room. She never drank anything but a little wine, and yet she was drinking straight Scotch. I took it from her and poured it down the sink.”

“How did she respond?”

“She was furious. She was a totally different person. She had never been a big drinker, but she was suddenly drinking a lot. . . . Ted came into the dressing room. She shouted at both of us to get out.”

“Were you surprised by her behavior?”

“I think it would be more accurate to say that I was shocked.”

“Did you discuss it with Winters?”

“He seemed bewildered. He'd been away a lot too.”

“On business?”

“Yes. I suppose so. . . .”

“The play went badly?”

“It was a disaster. Leila refused to come out for a curtain call. When it was over we went on to Elaine's.”

“Who do you mean by ‘we'?”

“Leila . . . Ted and Craig . . . myself . . . Syd and Cheryl . . . Baron and Baroness von Schreiber. We were all close friends.”

“You will be asked to identify these people for the jury.”

“Syd Melnick was Leila's agent. Cheryl Manning is a well-known actress. Baron and Baroness von Schreiber own Cypress Point Spa in California. Min—the Baroness—used to have a model agency in New York. She gave Leila her first job. Ted Winters—everyone knows who he is, and he was Leila's fiancé. Craig Babcock is Ted's assistant. He's executive vice-president of Winters Enterprises.”

“What happened at Elaine's?”

“There was a dreadful scene. Someone yelled to Leila that he'd heard her play was a turkey. She went wild. She shouted, ‘You bet it's a turkey, but I'm wringing its neck. You hear that, everybody? I
quit!'
Then she fired Syd Melnick. She told him he had only stuck her in the play because he wanted his percentage—that for the last couple of years he'd been putting her in anything he could because he needed the money.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “You have to understand this wasn't the real Leila. Oh, sure, she could get uptight when she was in a new play. She was a star. A perfectionist. But she never behaved like that.”

“What did you do?”

“We all tried to calm her down. But it only made her worse. When Ted tried to reason with her, she took off her engagement ring and threw it across the room.”

“How did he respond?”

“He was furious, but he tried not to show it. A waiter brought the ring back and Ted slipped it into his pocket. He tried to make a joke of it. He
said something like ‘I'll hold it till tomorrow when she's in better shape.' Then we got her to the car and brought her home. Ted helped me to put her to bed. I told him I'd have her call him in the morning, when she woke up.”

“Now on the stand I'll ask you what their living arrangements were.”

“He had his own apartment on the second floor in the same building. I spent the night with Leila. She slept past noon. When she woke up, she felt rotten. I gave her aspirin and she went back to bed. I phoned Ted for her. He was in his office. He asked me to tell her he'd come up about seven o'clock that evening.”

Elizabeth felt her voice quaver.

“I'm sorry to have to keep going, but try to think of this as a rehearsal. The more prepared you are, the easier it will be for you when you are actually on the stand.”

“It's all right.”

“Did you and your sister discuss the previous night?”

“No. It was obvious she didn't want to talk about it. She was very quiet. She told me to go to my place and get settled. I had literally dropped my bags home and rushed to her play. She asked me to call her around eight and we'd have dinner together. I assumed she meant she and Ted and I would have dinner together. But then she said she wasn't going to take his ring back. She was through with him.”

“Miss Lange, this is very important. Your sister told you she was planning to break her engagement to Ted Winters?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth stared down at her hands. She remembered how she had put those hands on Leila's shoulders, then run them across Leila's forehead.
Oh, stop it, Leila. You don't mean that.

But I do, Sparrow.

No, you don't.

Have it your way, Sparrow. But call me around eight, okay?

The last moment of being with Leila, of putting the cold compress on her forehead, of tucking the blankets around her and thinking that in a few hours she'd be herself again, laughing and amused and ready to tell the story. “So I fired Syd and threw Ted's ring, and quit the play. How's that for a fast two minutes in Elaine's?” And then she'd throw back her head
and laugh, and in retrospect it would suddenly become funny—a star having a public tantrum.

“I let myself believe it, because I wanted to believe it,” Elizabeth heard herself telling William Murphy.

In a rush she began the rest of her testimony. “I phoned at eight. . . . Leila and Ted were arguing. She sounded as if she'd been drinking again. She asked me to call back in an hour. I did. She was crying. They were still quarreling. She had told Ted to get out. She kept saying she couldn't trust any man; she didn't want any man; she wanted me to go away with her.”

“How did you respond?”

“I tried everything. I tried to calm her. I reminded her that she always got uptight when she was in a new show. I told her the play was really a good vehicle for her. I told her Ted was crazy about her and she knew it. Then I tried acting angry. I told her . . .” Elizabeth's voice faltered. Her face paled. “I told her she sounded just like Mama in one of her drunks.”

“What did she say?”

“It was as if she hadn't heard me. She just kept saying, ‘I'm finished with Ted. You're the only one I can ever trust. Sparrow, promise you'll go away with me.'”

Elizabeth no longer tried to check the tears that welled in her eyes. “She was crying and sobbing. . . .”

“And then . . .”

“Ted came back. He began shouting at her.”

William Murphy leaned forward. The warmth disappeared from his voice. “Now, Miss Lange, this will be a crucial point in your testimony. On the stand, before you can say whose voice you heard, I have to lay a foundation so that the judge is satisfied that you truly recognized that voice. So this is how we'll do it. . . .” He paused dramatically.

“Question: You heard a voice?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth said tonelessly.

“How loud was that voice?”

“Shouting.”

“What was the tone of that voice?”

“Angry.”

“How many words did you hear that voice say?”

In her mind, Elizabeth counted them. “Eleven words. Two sentences.”

“Now, Miss Lange, had you ever heard that voice before?”

“Hundreds of times.” Ted's voice was filling her ears. Ted, laughing, calling to Leila:
“Hey, Star, hurry up, I'm hungry”;
Ted deftly protecting Leila from an overly enthusiastic admirer:
“Get in the car, honey, quick”;
Ted coming to her own opening performance last year Off Broadway:
“I'm to memorize every detail to tell Leila. I can wrap it all up in three words: You were sensational. . . .”

What was Mr. Murphy asking her? . . . “Miss Lange, did you
recognize
whose voice shouted at your sister?”

“Absolutely!”

“Miss Lange.
Whose
voice was that shouting in the background?”

“It was Ted's . . . Ted Winters'.”

“What did he shout?”

Unconsciously she raised her own voice. “‘Put that phone down! I
told
you, put that phone down.'”

“Did your sister respond?”

“Yes.” Elizabeth stirred restlessly. “Do we have to go through this?”

“It will be easier for you if you get used to talking about it before the trial. Now, what did Leila say?”

“She was still sobbing . . . she said, ‘Get out of here. You're
not
a falcon. . . .' And then the phone slammed down.”

“She slammed the phone down?”

“I don't know which one of them did it.”

“Miss Lange, does the word ‘falcon' mean anything to you?”

“Yes.” Leila's face filled Elizabeth's mind: the tenderness in Leila's eyes when she looked at Ted, the way she would go up and kiss him. “God, Falcon, I love you.”

“Why?”

“It was Ted's nickname . . . my sister's pet name for him. She did that, you see. The people close to her—she gave them special names.”

“Did she ever call anyone else by that name—the name
Falcon?”

“No . . . never.” Abruptly, Elizabeth got up and walked to the window. It was grimy with dust. The faint breeze was hot and muggy. She thought
longingly of getting away from here.

“Only a few minutes more, I promise. Miss Lange, do you know what time the phone was slammed down?”

“Precisely nine thirty.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

“Yes. There must have been a power failure when I was away. I reset my clock that afternoon. I'm sure it was right.”

“What did you do then?”

“I was terribly upset. I had to see Leila. I ran out. It took me at least fifteen minutes to get a cab. It was after ten when I got to Leila's apartment.”

“And there was no one there.”

“No. I tried to phone Ted. There was no answer at his place. I just waited.” Waited all night, not knowing what to think, half-worried, half-relieved; hoping that Leila and Ted had made up and were out somewhere, not knowing that Leila's broken body was lying in the courtyard.

“The next morning, when the body was discovered, you thought she must have
fallen
from the terrace? It was a rainy March night. Why would she have gone out there?”