Seize the moment. She had to do it. "Helmut, something is terribly wrong, something you haven't told me. What is it?"

He shrugged. "You know what's wrong. Spas are springing up all over the country. The rich are restless people, fickle… The cost of the Roman bath has exceeded my expectation-I admit it… Nevertheless, I am sure that when we finally open it-"

"Helmut, promise me one thing. No matter what, we won't touch the Swiss account. I'd rather let this place go. At my age, I can't be broke again." Min tried to keep her voice from rising.

"We won't touch it, Minna. I promise." He handed her the sleeping pill. "So. As your husband… as a doctor… I order you to swallow this, immediately."

"I'll take it, gladly."

He sat on the edge of the bed as she sipped the milk. "Aren't you coming to bed?" Her voice was drowsy.

"Not yet. I'll read for a bit. That's my sleeping pill."

After he turned out the light and left the room, Min felt herself drifting off to sleep. Her last conscious thought became an inaudible whisper. "Helmut," she pleaded, "what are you hiding from me?"

At quarter of ten Elizabeth saw the guests begin to stream from the main house. She knew that in a few minutes the whole place would be silent, curtains drawn, lights extinguished. The day began early at the Spa. After the strenuous exercise classes and the relaxing beauty treatments, most people were more than ready to retire by ten o'clock.

She sighed when she saw one figure leave the main path and turn in her direction. Instinctively she knew it was Mrs. Meehan.

"I thought you might be a little lonesome," Alvirah said as, uninvited, she settled herself on one of the deck chairs. "Wasn't dinner good? You'd never guess you were counting calories, would you? Buhlieve me, I wouldn't weigh one hundred and sixty-five pounds if I'd eaten like this all my life."

She rearranged the shawl on her shoulders. "This thing keeps slipping." She looked around. "It's a beautiful night, isn't it? All those stars. I guess they don't have as much pollution here as in Queens. And the ocean. I love that sound. What was I saying? Oh, yes-dinner. You could have knocked me over when the waiter-or was he a butler?-put that tray in front of me, with the spoon and fork. You know, at home we just kind of dig in. I mean who needs a spoon and fork to get at string beans, or an itsy-bitsy lamb chop? But then I remembered the way Greer Garson helped herself from the fancy silver platter in Valley of Decision , and I was okay. You can always count on the movies."

Unwillingly, Elizabeth smiled. There was something so genuinely honest about Alvirah Meehan. Honesty was a rare commodity at the Spa. "I'm sure you did fine."

Alvirah fiddled with her sunburst pin. "To tell the truth, I couldn't take my eyes of Ted Winters. I was all set to hate him, but he was so nice to me. Boy, was I surprised at how snippy that Cheryl Manning is. She certainly hated Leila, didn't she?"

Elizabeth moistened her lips. "What makes you think that?"

"I just happened to say at dinner that I thought Leila would become a legend like Marilyn Monroe, and she said that if it's still fashionable to consider a washed-up drunk a legend, Leila just might make it." Alvirah felt a pang of regret at having to tell this to Leila's sister. But as she'd always read, a good reporter gets the story.

"How did the others respond to that?" Elizabeth asked quietly.

"They all laughed, except Ted Winters. He said that was a sickening thing to say."

"You can't mean Min and Craig thought it was funny?"

"It's hard to be sure," Alvirah said hastily. "Sometimes people laugh when they're embarrassed. But even that lawyer who's with Ted Winters said something like it's pretty clear Leila wouldn't win any popularity contests around here."

Elizabeth stood up. "It was nice of you to drop by, Mrs. Meehan. I'm afraid I have to change now. I always like to take a swim before I go to bed."

"I know. They talked about that at the table. Craig-is that his name, Mr. Winters' assistant-?"

"Yes."

"He asked the Baroness how long you were going to stay. She told him probably until day after tomorrow because you were waiting to see someone named Sammy."

"That's right."

"And Syd Melnick said that he has a hunch you're going to avoid all of them. Then the Baroness said that the one place you can always find Elizabeth is swimming in the Olympic pool around ten o'clock at night. I guess she was right."

"She knows I like to swim. Do you know your way to your cottage, Mrs. Meehan? If not, I'll walk with you. It can be confusing in the dark."

"No, I'm fine. I enjoyed talking to you." Alvirah pulled herself up from the chair and, ignoring the path, began to cut across the lawn to her bungalow. She was disappointed that Elizabeth hadn't said anything that would be helpful for her articles. But on the other hand, she had gotten a lot of material at dinner. She certainly could do a meaty article on jealousy!

Wouldn't the reading public be interested to hear that Leila LaSalle's very best friends all acted as if they were glad she was dead!

Carefully, he drew the shades and extinguished the lights. He was frantic to hurry. It might already be too late, but there was no way he could have ventured out before now. When he opened the outside door, he shivered for a moment. The air had become chilly, and he was wearing only swim trunks and a dark T-shirt.

The grounds were quiet, lighted only by the now-dimmed lanterns along the footpaths and in the trees. It was easy to stay hidden in the shadows as he hurried toward the Olympic pool. Would she still bethere?

The change in wind had caused a mist to blow in from the sea. In minutes, the stars had been covered by clouds, the moon had disappeared. Even if anyone happened to stand at a window and look out, he would not be seen.

Elizabeth planned to stay at the Spa until she saw Sammy tomorrow night. That gave him only a day and a half-until Tuesday morning-to arrange her death.

He stopped at the shrubbery that edged the patio around the Olympic pool. In the darkness he could barely see Elizabeth 's moving form as she swam with swift, sure strokes from one end of the pool to the other. Carefully, he calculated his chance of success. The idea had come to him when Min said Elizabeth was always in this pool around ten o'clock. Even strong swimmers have accidents. A sudden cramp, no one within hearing distance if she cried out, no marks, no signs of struggle... His plan was to slip into the pool when she was almost at the opposite end, wait and pounce on her as she passed him, hold her down until she stopped struggling. Now, he edged his way from behind the shrubbery. It was dark enough to risk a closer look.

He had forgotten how fast she swam. Though she was so slender, the muscles in her arms were like steel. Suppose she was able to fight long enough to attract attention? And she was probably wearing one of those damn whistles Min insisted lone swimmers put on.

His eyes narrowed in anger and frustration as he crouched nearer and nearer the edge of the pool, ready to spring, not sure if this was the precisely right moment. She was a faster swimmer than he was. In the water she might have the advantage over him…

He could not afford to make a second mistake.

In aqua sanitas. The Romans had chiseled the motto into the walls of their bathhouses. If I believed in reincarnation, I would think I had lived in those times, Elizabeth thought as she glided across the dark recess of the pool. When she had begun to swim, it had been possible to see not only the perimeter of the pool, but the surrounding area with its lounge chairs and umbrella tables and flowering hedges. Now they were only dark silhouettes.