Weep No More My Lady Read Free Page A

counted them. “Eleven words. Two sentences.”
    â€œNow, Miss Lange, had you ever heard that voice before?”
    â€œHundreds 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?”
    â€œAbsolutely!”
    â€œMiss Lange. Whose voice was that shouting in the background?”
    â€œIt was Ted’s . . . Ted Winters’.”
    â€œWhat did he shout?”
    Unconsciously she raised her own voice. “‘Put that phone down! I told you, put that phone down.’”
    â€œDid your sister respond?”
    â€œYes.” Elizabeth stirred restlessly. “Do we have to go through this?”
    â€œIt will be easier for you if you get used to talking about it before the trial. Now, what did Leila say?”
    â€œShe was still sobbing . . . she said, ‘Get out of here. You’re not a falcon. . . .’ And then the phone slammed down.”
    â€œShe slammed the phone down?”
    â€œI don’t know which one of them did it.”
    â€œMiss Lange, does the word ‘falcon’ mean anything to you?”
    â€œYes.” 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.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œIt 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.”
    â€œDid she ever call anyone else by that name—the name Falcon?”
    â€œNo . . . never.” Abruptly, Elizabeth got up and walked to the window. It was grimy with dust. The faint breeze was hot and muggy. She thoughtlongingly of getting away from here.
    â€œOnly a few minutes more, I promise. Miss Lange, do you know what time the phone was slammed down?”
    â€œPrecisely nine thirty.”
    â€œAre you absolutely sure?”
    â€œYes. There must have been a power failure when I was away. I reset my clock that afternoon. I’m sure it was right.”
    â€œWhat did you do then?”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œAnd there was no one there.”
    â€œNo. 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.
    â€œThe 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?”
    â€œShe loved to go out and stand and just look at the city. In any weather. I used to tell her to be careful . . . that railing wasn’t very high. I thought she must have leaned over, she had been drinking; she fell. . . .”
    She remembered: Together she and Ted had grieved. Hands entwined, they had wept at the memorial service. Later, he had held her when she could no longer control her racking sobs. “I know, Sparrow. I know,” he said, comforting her. On Ted’s yacht they had sailed ten miles out to sea to scatter Leila’s ashes.
    And then, two weeks later, an eyewitness had come forth and sworn she had seen