Read Online Weep No More My Lady by Mary Higgins Clark - Free Book Online

night sprang into his mind. Steel bars, tough prison guards, Jimmy Cagney starring as a mad-dog killer. He used to revel in them.
    â€œWe have two ways we can go,” Henry Bartlett said. “We can stick to your original story—”
    â€œMy original story,” Ted snapped.
    â€œHear me out! You left Leila’s apartment at about ten after nine. You went to your own apartment. You tried to phone Craig.” He turned to Craig. “It’s a damn shame you didn’t pick up the phone.”
    â€œI was watching a program I wanted to see. The telephone recorder was on. I figured I’d call back anyone who left a message. And I can swear the phone rang at nine twenty, just as Ted says.”
    â€œWhy didn’t you leave a message, Ted?”
    â€œBecause I hate talking to machines, and especially that one.” His lips tightened. Craig’s habit of talking like a Japanese houseboy on his recorder irritated Ted wildly.
    â€œWhat were you calling Craig about, anyhow?”
    â€œIt’s blurry. I was drunk. My impression is that I wanted to tell him I was taking off for a while.”
    â€œThat doesn’t help us. Probably if you had reached him it wouldn’t help us. Not unless he can back you up that you were talking to him at precisely nine thirty-one P.M.”
    Craig slammed his hand on the table. “Then I’ll say it. I’m not in favor of lying under oath, but neither am I in favor of Ted getting railroaded for something he didn’t do.”
    â€œIt’s too late for that. You’ve already made a statement. You change it now and the situation gets worse.” Bartlett skimmed the papers he had pulled from his briefcase. Ted got up and walked to the window. He had planned to go to the men’s spa and work out for a while. But Bartlett had been insistent about this meeting. Already his freedom was being infringed.
    How many times had he come to Cypress Point with Leila in their three-year relationship? Eight or ten probably. Leila had loved it here. She’d been amused by Min’s bossiness, by the Baron’s pretentiousness. She’d enjoyed long hikes along the cliffs. “All right, Falcon, if you won’t come with me, play your darn golf and I’ll meet you at my pad later.” That mischievous wink, the deliberate leer, her long, slender fingers running along his shoulders. “God, Falcon, you do turn me on.” Lying with her in his arms on the couch watching late-night movies. Her murmured “Min knows better than to give us any of those damn narrow antiques of hers. She knows I like to cuddle with my fellow.” It was here that he had found the Leila he loved; the Leila she herself wanted to be.
    What was Bartlett saying? “Either we attempt to flatly contradict Elizabeth Lange and the so-called eyewitness or we try to turn that testimony to our benefit.”
    â€œHow does one do that?” God, I hate this man, Ted thought. Look at him sitting there, cool and comfortable. You’d think he was discussing a chess game, not the rest of my life. Irrational fury almost choked him. He had to get out of this spot. Even being in a room with someone he disliked gave him claustrophobia. How could he share a cell with another man for two or three decades? He couldn’t. At any price, he couldn’t do it.
    â€œYou have no memory of hailing the cab, of the ride to Connecticut.”
    â€œAbsolutely none.”
    â€œYour last conscious memory of that evening. Tell me again: what was it?”
    â€œI had been with Leila for several hours. She was hysterical. Kept accusing me of cheating on her.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œThen why did she accuse you?”
    â€œLeila was—terribly insecure. She’d had bad experiences with men. She had convinced herself she could never trust one. I thought I’d gotten her over that as far as our relationship was concerned, but