The Sky Is Falling (13 page)

Rachel sat down and the cameraman set his focus. Roderick Marshall was standing off-camera. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Just relax. You’re going to be wonderful. Camera. Action. Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

“I hear you’re a model.”

Rachel smiled. “Yes.”

“How did you get started?”

“I was fifteen. The owner of a model agency saw me in a restaurant with my mother, went up and talked to her, and a few days later I was a model.”

The interview went on for fifteen easy minutes, and Rachel’s intelligence and poise shone through.

“Cut! Wonderful!” Roderick Marshall handed her a short test scene. “We’re going to take a break. Read this. When you’re ready, tell me, and we’ll shoot it. You’re a cinch, Rachel.”

Rachel read the scene. It was about a wife asking her husband for a divorce. Rachel read it again.

“I’m ready.”

Rachel was introduced to Kevin Webster, who was going to play opposite her — a handsome young man in the Hollywood mold.

“All right,” Roderick Marshall said. “Let’s shoot it. Camera. Action.”

Rachel looked at Kevin Webster. “I talked to a divorce lawyer this morning, Cliff.”

“I heard about it. Shouldn’t you have talked to me first?”

“I did talk to you about it. I’ve talked to you about it for the last year. We don’t have a marriage anymore. You just weren’t listening, Jeff.”

“Cut,” Roderick said. “Rachel, his name is Cliff.”

Rachel said, embarrassed, “I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s go again. Take two.”

The scene really is about Jeff and me
, Rachel thought.
We don’t have a marriage anymore. How could we? We live separate lives. We hardly see each other. We both meet attractive people, but we can’t get involved because of a contract that no longer means anything
.

“Rachel!”

“Sorry.”

The scene began again.

By the time Rachel finished the test, she had made two decisions: She did not belong in Hollywood.

And she wanted a divorce…

Now, lying in bed in Rio, feeling ill and exhausted, Rachel thought,
I made a mistake. I never should have divorced Jeff
.

Tuesday when Kemal finished school, Dana took him to the therapist who was working with Kemal and his new arm. The artificial arm looked real and functioned well, but it was difficult for Kemal to get used to it, both physically and psychologically.

“It will feel like he’s attached to a foreign object,” the therapist had explained to Dana. “Our job is to get him to accept it as a part of his own body. He has to get used to being ambidextrous again. There’s usually a two- to three-month learning period. I must warn you that it can be a very difficult time.”

“We can handle it,” Dana assured him.

It was not that easy. The following morning Kemal walked out of the study without his prosthesis. “I’m ready.”

Dana looked at him in surprise. “Where’s your arm, Kemal?”

Kemal raised his left hand defiantly. “Here it is.”

“You know what I mean. Where’s your prosthesis?”

“It’s freak. I won’t wear it anymore.”

“You’ll get used to it, darling. I promise. You have to give it a chance. I’ll help you to—”

“No one can help me. I’m a
fukati
cripple…”

Dana went to see Detective Marcus Abrams again. When Dana walked in, Abrams was at his desk busily filling out reports. He looked up, scowling.

“You know what I hate about this damned job?” He indicated the pile of papers. “
This
. I could be out on the street having fun shooting perps. Oh, I forgot. You’re a reporter, aren’t you? Don’t quote me.”

“Too late.”

“And what can I do for you today, Miss Evans?”

“I came to ask about the Sinisi case. Has there been an autopsy?”

“Pro forma.” He took out some papers from his desk drawer.

“Was there anything suspicious in the report?”

She watched Detective Abrams scan the paper. “No alcohol… no drugs… No.” He looked up. “It looks like the lady was depressed and just decided to end it all. That it?”

“That’s it,” Dana said.

Dana’s next stop was Detective Phoenix Wilson’s office.

“Good morning, Detective Wilson.”

“And what brings you to my humble office?”

“I wondered whether there was any news on Gary Winthrop’s murder.”

Detective Wilson sighed and scratched the side of his nose. “Not one damn thing. I would have thought that by now one of those paintings would have turned up. That’s what we’ve been counting on.”

Dana wanted to say,
I wouldn’t if I were you
, but she held her tongue. “No clues of any kind?”

“Not a thing. The bastards got away clean as a whistle. We don’t have too many art thefts, but the MO is almost always the same. That’s what’s so surprising.”

“Surprising?”

“Yeah. This one is different.”

“Different… how?”

“Art thieves don’t kill unarmed people, and there was no reason for these guys to shoot down Gary Winthrop in cold blood.” He stopped. “Do you have any special interest in this case?”

“No,” Dana lied. “Not at all. Just curious. I—”

“Right,” Detective Wilson said. “Keep in touch.”

At the end of a meeting in General Booster’s office at the secluded the FRA headquarters, the general turned to Jack Stone and asked, “What’s happening with the Evans woman?”

“She’s going around asking questions, but I think it’s harmless. She’s not getting anywhere.”

“I don’t like her snooping around. Kick it up to a code three.”

“When do you want it to start?”

“Yesterday.”

Dana was in the middle of preparing for the next broadcast when Matt Baker walked into her office and sank into a chair.

“I just got a phone call about you.”

Dana said lightly, “My fans can’t get enough of me, can they?”

“This one’s had enough of you.”

“Oh?”

“The call was from the FRA. They’re asking you to stop your investigation of Taylor Winthrop. Nothing official. Just what they called a friendly suggestion. Looks like they want you to mind your own business.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Dana said. She locked eyes with Matt. “It makes you wonder why, doesn’t it? I’m not backing away from the story because some government agency wants me to. It started in Aspen, where Taylor and his wife were killed in the fire. I’m going there first. And if there’s something there, it should be a great kickoff story for
Crime Line
.”

“How much time do you need?”

“It shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”

“Go for it.”

IT WAS AN EFFORT for Rachel to move. Just walking from room to room in her Florida home was exhausting. She could not remember when she had ever been so tired.
I probably have a flu of some kind. Jeff was right. I should see a doctor. A hot bath will relax me
…

It was while Rachel was stretched out in the soothing warm water that her hand went to her breast and felt the lump.

Her first reaction was shock. Then denial.
It’s nothing. It’s not cancer. I don’t smoke. I exercise and take care of my body. There is no cancer in my family. I’m fine. I’ll have a doctor look at it, but it’s not cancer
.

Rachel got out of the tub, dried herself, and made a telephone call.

“Betty Richman Model Agency.”

“I’d like to speak to Betty Richman. Please tell her it’s Rachel Stevens.”

A moment later Betty Richman was on the line. “Rachel! It’s great to hear from you. Are you all right?”

“Of course I am. Why do you ask?”

“Well, you cut the Rio shoot short, and I thought that maybe—”

Rachel laughed. “No, no. I was just tired, Betty. I’m eager to go to work again.”

“That’s great news. Everyone’s been trying to book you.”

“Well, I’m ready. What’s on the agenda?”

“Hold on a moment.”

A minute later Betty Richman was back on the line. “The next shoot is in Aruba. It starts next week. That gives you plenty of time. They’ve been asking for you.”

“I love Aruba. Book me for it.”

“You’ve got it. I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

“I feel great.”

“I’ll send all the details.”

At two o’clock the following afternoon, Rachel had an appointment with Dr. Graham Elgin.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Elgin.”

“And what can I do for you?”

“I have a small cyst in my right breast and—”

“Oh, you’ve seen a doctor?”

“No, but I know what it is. It’s just a little cyst. I know my body. I’d like you to use microsurgery to get it out.” She smiled. “I’m a model. I can’t afford to have a scar. With just a tiny blemish, I can cover it with makeup. I’m leaving next week for Aruba, so would it be possible to schedule the operation tomorrow or the next day?”

Dr. Elgin was studying her. Considering the situation, she seemed unnaturally calm. “Let me examine you first, then I’ll have to do a biopsy. But yes, we can schedule the operation within the week, if necessary.”

Rachel was beaming. “Wonderful.”

Dr. Elgin stood up. “Let’s go into the other room, shall we? I’ll have the nurse bring you a hospital gown.”

Fifteen minutes later, with a nurse looking on, Dr. Elgin was palpating the lump in Rachel’s breast.

“I told you, Doctor, it’s just a cyst.”

“Well, to be certain, Miss Stevens, I’d like to do the biopsy. I can do it right here.”

Rachel tried not to wince as Dr. Elgin inserted a thin needle into the side of her breast to draw out tissue.

“All finished. That wasn’t too bad, was it?”

“No. How soon…?”

“I’ll send this in to the lab, and I can have a preliminary cytology report tomorrow morning.”

Rachel smiled. “Good. I’m going home to pack for Aruba.”

When Rachel got home, the first thing she did was take out two suitcases and lay them on the bed. She went to the closet and started collecting clothes to take to with her.

Jeanette Rhodes, her cleaning woman, came into the bedroom.

“Miss Stevens, are you going away again?”

“Yes.”

“Where are you going this time?”

“To Aruba.”

“Where’s that?”

“It’s a beautiful island in the Caribbean Sea, just north of Venezuela. It’s a paradise. Great beaches, beautiful hotels, and wonderful food.”

“Sounds great.”

“By the way, Jeanette, while I’m gone, I’d like you to come in three times a week.”

“Of course.”

At nine o’clock the following morning, the phone rang.

“Miss Stevens?”

“Yes.”

“This is Dr. Elgin.”

“Hello, Doctor. Were you able to schedule the operation?”

“Miss Stevens, I just got the cytology report. I’d like you to come into the office so we can—”

“No. I want to hear it now, Doctor.”

There was a slight hesitation. “I don’t like to discuss this sort of thing on the phone, but I’m afraid the preliminary report shows you do have cancer.”

Jeff was in the middle of writing his sports column when the phone rang. He picked it up. “Hello?”

“Jeff…” She was crying.

“Rachel, is that you? What’s the matter? What’s happened?”

“I — I have breast cancer.”

“Oh, my God. How serious is it?”

“I don’t know yet. I have to have a mammogram. Jeff, I can’t face this alone. I know I’m asking a lot, but could you come down here?”

“Rachel, I — I’m afraid I—”

“Just for a day. Just till I… know.” She was crying again.

“Rachel…” He was torn. “I’ll try. I’ll call you later.”

She was sobbing too hard to speak.

When Dana returned from a production meeting, she said, “Olivia, make a reservation for me on a morning plane to Aspen, Colorado. Get me into a hotel. Oh, and I’ll want a car rental.”

“Right. Mr. Connors is waiting for you in your office.”

“Thanks.” Dana walked inside. Jeff was standing there looking out the window. “Hi, darling.”

He turned around. “Hi, Dana.”

There was a strange expression on his face. Dana looked at him, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“That’s a two-part question,” he said heavily. “Yes and no.”

“Sit down,” Dana said. She took a chair opposite him. “What’s wrong?”

He let out a deep breath. “Rachel has breast cancer.”

She felt a little shock. “I — I’m so sorry. Is she going to be all right?”

“She called this morning. They’re going to let her know how serious it is. She’s panicky. She wants me to come to Florida to help her face the news. I wanted to talk to you first.”

Dana walked over to Jeff and put her arms around him. “Of course you must go.” Dana remembered the luncheon with Rachel and how wonderful she had been.

“I’ll be back in a day or two.”

Jeff was in Matt Baker’s office.

“I have an emergency situation, Matt. I have to leave for a few days.”

“Are you okay, Jeff?”

“Yes. It’s Rachel.”

“Your ex?”

Jeff nodded. “She just learned she has cancer.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Anyway, she needs a little moral support. I want to fly to Florida this afternoon.”

“You go ahead. I’ll have Maury Falstein fill in for you. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will. Thanks, Matt.”

Two hours later Jeff was on an airplane to Miami.

Dana’s most immediate problem was Kemal.
I can’t go to Aspen without having someone reliable here to take care of him
, Dana thought.
But who can handle cleaning and laundry and the most ornery little boy in the world
?

She telephoned Pamela Hudson. “I’m so sorry to bother you, Pamela, but I have to leave town for a little while, and I need someone to stay with Kemal. Would you happen to know of a good housekeeper with the patience of a saint?”

There was a moment’s silence. “It just so happens that I do. Her name is Mary Rowane Daley, and she worked for us years ago. She’s a treasure. Let me find her and have her call you.”