THE SKY IS FALLING BY SIDNEY SHELDON

“Someone with that high a profile must have made some enemies down the line.”

“Miss Evans—are you implying that the Winthrops were murdered?”

“I’m just asking,” Dana said.

Jack Stone considered it a moment. Then he shook his head. “No,” he said. “It doesn’t make sense. Taylor Winthrop never harmed anyone in his life. If you’ve talked to any of his friends or associates, you would know that.”

“Let me tell you what I’ve learned so far,” Dana said. “Taylor Winthrop was—”

Jack Stone held up a hand. “Miss Evans, the less I know, the better. I’m trying to stay outside the loop. I can help you best that way, if you know what I mean.”

Dana looked at him, puzzled. “I’m not sure exactly.”

“Frankly, for your sake, I wish you would drop this whole matter. If you won’t, then be careful.” And he stood up and was gone.

Dana sat there, thinking about what she had just heard. So Taylor Winthrop had no enemies. Maybe I’m going about this from the wrong angle. What if it wasn’t Taylor Winthrop who made a deadly enemy? What if it was one of his children? Or his wife?

Dana told Jeff about her luncheon with Major Jack Stone.

“That’s interesting. What now?”

“I want to talk to some of the people who knew the Winthrop children. Paul Winthrop was engaged to a girl named Harriet Berk. They were together for almost a year.”

“I remember reading about them,” Jeff said. He hesitated. “Darling, you know I’m behind you one hundred percent…”

“Of course, Jeff.”

“But what if you’re wrong about this? Accidents do happen. How much time are you going to spend on this?”

“Not much more,” Dana promised. “I’m just going to do a little more checking.”

Harriet Berk lived in an elegant duplex apartment in northwest Washington. She was a slim blonde in her early thirties, with a nervously engaging smile.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Dana said.

“I’m not exactly sure why I am seeing you, Miss Evans. You said it was something about Paul.”

“Yes.” Dana chose her words carefully. “I don’t mean to pry into your personal life, but you and Paul were engaged to be married, and I’m sure you probably knew him better than anyone else.”

“I like to think so.”

“I’d love to know a little more about him, what he was really like.”

Harriet Berk was silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was soft. “Paul was like no other man I’ve ever known. He had a zest for life. He was kind and thoughtful of others. He could be very funny. He didn’t take himself too seriously. He was great fun to be around. We were planning to be married in October.” She stopped. “When Paul died in the accident, I—I felt as though my life was over.” She looked at Dana and said quietly, “I still feel that way.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dana said. “I hate to press this, but do you know if he had any enemies, someone who would have a reason to kill him?”

Harriet Berk looked at her and tears came to her eyes. “Kill Paul?” Her voice was choked. “If you had really known him, you wouldn’t have even asked that.”

Dana’s next interview was with Steve Rexford, the butler who had worked for Julie Winthrop. He was a middle-aged, elegant-looking Englishman.

“How may I help you, Miss Evans?”

“I wanted to ask you about Julie Winthrop.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“How long did you work for her?”

“Four years and nine months.”

“What was she like to work for?”

He smiled reminiscently. “She was extremely pleasant, a lovely lady in every way. I—I couldn’t believe it when I heard the news about her accident.”

“Did Julie Winthrop have any enemies?”

He frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

“Was Miss Winthrop involved with anyone she might have…jilted? Or someone who might want to harm her or her family?”

Steve Rexford shook his head slowly. “Miss Julie wasn’t that sort of person. She could never hurt anyone. No. She was very generous with her time and with her wealth. Everyone loved her.”

Dana studied him a moment. He meant it. They all meant it. What the hell am I doing? Dana wondered. I feel like Dana Quixote. Only there are no windmills.

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