“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.”
XI
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.