Where did she belong? Elizabeth wondered. When she was in Europe working, it had been easier to forget the sense of isolation, the alienation from every other human being that had become a fact of her existence. As soon as the movie was in the can, she rushed home, so sure that her apartment would be a haven, the familiarity of New York a welcoming comfort, but in ten minutes, she had been frantic to flee, had grasped at Min's invitation like a drowning woman. Now she was marking the hours until she could go back to New York, and the apartment. She felt as if she had no home.

Would the trial be a purge for her emotions? Would knowing that she had helped to bring about the punishment of Leila's murderer in some way release her, let her reach out to other people, start a new life for herself? "Excuse me." A young couple were behind her. She recognized him as a top-seeded tennis player. How long had she been blocking their path?

"I'm sorry. I guess I'm woolgathering." She stepped aside, and he and the young woman, whose hand was entwined in his, smiled indifferently and passed her. She followed them slowly to the end of the path, up the steps of the veranda. A waiter offered her a drink. She accepted it and quickly moved to the far railing. She had no small talk in her.

Min and Helmut were circulating among their guests with the practiced skill of veteran party givers. Min was triumphantly visible in a flowing yellow satin caftan and cascading diamond earrings. With a measure of surprise, Elizabeth realized that

Min was really quite slim. It was her full breasts and overbearing manner that created the imposing illusion.

As always, Helmut was impeccable, in a navy silk jacket and light gray flannel slacks. He exuded charm as he bowed over hands, smiled, raised one perfectly arched eyebrow-the perfect gentleman.

But why did he hate Leila?

Tonight the dining rooms were decorated in peach: peach tablecloths and napkins, centerpieces of peach roses, Lenox china in a delicate peach-and-gold design. Min's table was set for four. As Elizabeth approached it, she saw the maitre d' touch Min's arm and direct her to the phone on his desk.

When Min came back to the table, she was visibly annoyed. Nevertheless, her greeting seemed genuine. " Elizabeth, at last a little time to be with you. I had hoped to give both you and Sammy a happy surprise. Sammy returned early. She must have missed my note and didn't realize you were here. I invited her to join us at table, but she's just phoned to say she doesn't feel very well. I told her you were with us and she'll see you in your bungalow after dinner."

"Is she ill?" Elizabeth asked anxiously.

"She had a long drive. Still, she ought to eat. I wish she had made the effort." Min clearly wanted to dismiss any more discussion.

Elizabeth watched as, with a practiced eye, Min surveyed the surroundings. Woe to a waiter who did not have the proper demeanor, who rattled, or spilled, or brushed against the chair of a guest. The thought struck her that it was not like Min to invite Sammy to join her table. Was it possible that Min had guessed there was a special reason she had waited to see Sammy, and wanted to know what it was?

And was it possible that Sammy had shrewdly avoided that trap?

"I'm sorry I'm late." Alvirah Meehan yanked out the chair before the waiter could help her. "The cosmetician did a special makeup after I got dressed," she said, beaming. "How do you like it?"

Alvirah was wearing a scoop-necked beige caftan with intricate brown beading. It looked very expensive. "I bought this in the boutique," she explained. "You have lovely things there. And I bought every single product the makeup woman suggested. She was so helpful."

As Helmut came to the table, Elizabeth studied Min's face with amusement. One was invited to join Min and Helmut-something which Mrs. Meehan did not understand. Min could explain that and place her at another table. On the other hand, Mrs. Meehan was in the most expensive bungalow in the Spa; she was clearly buying everything in sight, and offending her could be very foolish. A strained smile tugged at the corners of Min's lips. "You look charming," she told Alvirah. "Tomorrow I shall personally help you select other outfits."

"That's very nice of you." Alvirah fiddled with her sunburst pin and turned to Helmut. "Baron, I have to tell you I was re-reading your ad-you know, the one you have framed in the bungalows."

"Yes?"

Elizabeth wondered if it was just her imagination that made Helmut suddenly seem wary.

"Well, let me tell you that everything you say about the place is true. Remember how the ad says, 'At the end of a week here, you will feel as free and untroubled as a butterfly floating on a cloud?"

"The ad reads something like that, yes."

"But you wrote it-didn't you tell me that?"

"I had some input, I said. We have an agency."

"Nonsense, Helmut. Mrs. Meehan obviously agrees with the text of the ad. Yes, Mrs. Meehan, my husband is very creative. He personally writes the daily greeting, and ten years ago when we converted the hotel into the Spa, he simply would not accept the advertising copy we were given, and rewrote it himself. That ad won many awards, which is why we have a framed copy in every bungalow."

"It certainly made important people want to come here," Alvirah told them. "How I wish I'd been a fly on the wall to listen to all of them… She beamed at Helmut. "Or a butterfly floating on a cloud."

They were eating the low-calorie mousse when it dawned on Elizabeth how skillfully Mrs. Meehan had drawn out Helmut and Min. They had told her stories Elizabeth had never heard before: about an eccentric millionaire who had arrived on opening day on his bicycle, with his Rolls-Royce majestically trailing him, or about how a chartered plane had been sent from Arabia to pick up a fortune in jewels that one of a sheikh's four wives had left behind on a table near the pool…

As they were about to leave the table, Alvirah posed her final question: "Who was the most exciting guest you've ever had?"

Without hesitation, without even looking at each other, they answered "Leila LaSalle."

For some reason, Elizabeth shivered.

Elizabeth did not linger for coffee or the musical program. As soon as she reached her bungalow, she phoned Sammy. There was no answer in her apartment. Puzzled, she dialed Sammy's office.

Sammy's voice had an excited urgency to it when she answered. " Elizabeth, I nearly fainted when Min told me you were here. No, I'm perfectly all right. I'll be right over."

Ten minutes later, Elizabeth flung open the door of her bungalow and threw her arms around the frail, fiercely loyal woman who had shared with her the last years of Leila's life.

Sitting opposite each other on the matching sofas, they took each other's measure. Elizabeth was shocked to see how much Dora had changed. "I know," Dora said with a wry smile. "I don't look that hot."

"You don't look well, Sammy," Elizabeth said. "How's it really going?"

Dora shrugged. "I still feel so guilty. You were away, and couldn't see the day-to-day change in Leila. When she came to visit me in the hospital, I could see it. Something was destroying her, but she wouldn't talk about it. I ought to have contacted you. I feel I let her down so terribly. And now it's as if I have to find out what happened. I can't let it rest until I do."

Elizabeth felt tears begin to spill from her eyes. "Now don't you dare get me started," she said. "For the entire first year I had to carry dark glasses with me. I just never knew when I'd start crying. I used to call the glasses my grief equipment."