The Sky Is Falling

WHAT ARE YOU trying to tell me, Dana?"



"Matt, I'm saying that five violent deaths in one family in less than a year is too much of a coincidence."



"Dana, if I didn't know you better, I'd call a psychiatrist and tell him Chicken Little is in my office saying that the sky is falling. The police investigated each of those deaths carefully. They were all accidents. Do you think we're dealing with some kind of conspiracy? Who's behind it? Fidel Castro? The CIA? Oliver Stone? For God's sake, don't you know that every time someone prominent is killed, there are a hundred different conspiracy theories? A guy came in here last week and said he could prove that Lyndon Johnson killed Abraham Lincoln. Washington is always drowning in conspiracy theories."



"Matt, we're getting ready to doCrime Line. You want to start with a grabber? Well, if I'm right, this could be it."



Matt Baker sat there for a moment, studying her. "You're wasting your time."



"Thanks, Matt."



TheWashington Tribune 's morgue was in the building's basement, filled with thousands of tapes from earlier news shows, all neatly cataloged.



Laura Lee Hill, an attractive brunette in her forties, was seated behind her desk cataloging tapes. She looked up as Dana entered.



"Hi, Dana. I saw your broadcast of the funeral. I thought you did a great job."



"Thank you."



"Wasn't that a terrible tragedy?"



"Terrible," Dana agreed.



"You just never know," Laura Lee Hill said somberly. "Well - what can I do you for?"



"I want to look at some tapes of the Winthrop family."



"Anything in particular?"



"No. I just want to get a feel of what the family was like."



"I can tell you what they were like. They were saints."



"That's what I keep hearing," Dana said.



Laura Lee Hill rose. "I hope you have plenty of time, honey. We have tons of coverage on them."



"Good. I'm in no hurry."



Laura Lee led Dana to a desk with a television monitor on it. "I'll be right back," she said. She returned five minutes later with a full armload of tapes. "You can start with these," she said. "There are more coming."



Dana looked at the huge pile of tapes and thought, Maybe I am Chicken Little. But if I'm right...



Dana put in a tape, and the picture of a stunningly handsome man flashed on the screen. His features were strong and sculpted. He had a mane of dark hair, candid blue eyes, and a strong chin. By his side was a young boy. A commentator said, "Taylor Winthrop has added another wilderness camp to the ones he has already established for underprivileged children. His son Paul is here with him, ready to join in the fun. This is the tenth in a series of such camps that Taylor Winthrop is building. He plans at least a dozen more."



Dana pressed a button and the scene changed. An older-looking Taylor Winthrop, with flecks of gray in his hair, was shaking hands with a group of dignitaries. "...has just confirmed his appointment as consultant to NATO. Taylor Winthrop will be leaving for Brussels in the next few weeks to..."



Dana changed the tape. The scene was the front lawn of the White House. Taylor Winthrop was standing next to the president, who was saying, "...and I have appointed him to head up the FRA, the Federal Research Agency. The agency is dedicated to helping developing countries all around the world, and I can think of no one better qualified than Taylor Winthrop to lead that organization..."



The monitor flashed onto the next scene, the Leonardo da Vinci airport in Rome, where Taylor Winthrop was debarking from a plane. "Several heads of state are here to greet Taylor Winthrop as he arrives to negotiate trade deals between Italy and the United States. The fact that Mr. Winthrop was selected by the president to handle these negotiations shows how significant they are..."



The man had done everything, Dana thought.



She changed tapes. Taylor Winthrop was at the presidential palace in Paris, shaking hands with the president of France. "A landmark trade agreement with the French has just been completed by Taylor Winthrop..."



Another tape. Taylor Winthrop's wife, Madeline, was in front of a compound with a group of boys and girls. "Madeline Winthrop today dedicated a new care center for abused children, and - "



There was a tape of the Winthrops' own children playing at their estate farm in Manchester, Vermont.



Dana put the next tape in. Taylor Winthrop at the White House. In the background were his wife, his two handsome sons, Gary and Paul, and his beautiful daughter, Julie. The president was presenting Taylor Winthrop with a Medal of Freedom. "...and for his selfless devotion to his country and for all his wonderful accomplishments, I am pleased to present Taylor Winthrop with the highest civilian award we can give - the Medal of Freedom."



There was a tape of Julie skiing...



Gary funding a foundation to help young artists...



The Oval Office again. The press was out in full force. A gray-haired Taylor Winthrop and his wife were standing next to the president. "I have just appointed Taylor Winthrop our new ambassador to Russia. I know you are all familiar with Mr. Winthrop's innumerable services to our country, and I'm delighted that he has agreed to accept this post instead of spending his days playing golf." The press laughed.



Taylor Winthrop quipped, "You haven't seen my golf game, Mr. President."



Another laugh...



And then came the series of disasters.



Dana inserted a new tape. The scene outside a burned-out home in Aspen, Colorado. A female newscaster was pointing to the gutted house. "The chief of police of Aspen has confirmed that Ambassador Winthrop and his wife, Madeline, both perished in the terrible fire. The fire department was alerted in the early hours of this morning and arrived within fifteen minutes, but it was too late to save them. According to Chief Nagel, the fire was caused by an electrical problem. Ambassador and Mrs. Winthrop were known worldwide for their philanthropy and dedication to government service."



Dana put in another tape. The scene was the Grand Corniche on the French Riviera. A reporter said, "Here is the curve where Paul Winthrop's car skidded off the road and plummeted down the mountainside. According to the coroner's office, he was killed instantly by the impact. There were no passengers. The police are investigating the cause of the accident. The terrible irony is that only two months ago Paul Winthrop's mother and father died in a fire at their home in Aspen, Colorado."



Dana reached for another tape. A mountain skiing trail in Juneau, Alaska. A heavily bundled-up newscaster: "...and this is the scene of the tragic skiing accident that occurred last evening. Authorities are not sure why Julie Winthrop, a champion skier, was skiing alone at night on this particular trail, which had been closed, but they are investigating. In September, just six weeks ago, Julie's brother Paul was killed in a car accident in France, and in July of this year, her parents, Ambassador Taylor Winthrop and his wife, died in a fire. The president has expressed his sympathy."



The next tape. Gary Winthrop's home in the northwest section of Washington, D. C. Reporters were swarming around the outside of the town house. In front of the house, a newscaster was saying, "In a tragic, unbelievable turn of events, Gary Winthrop, the last remaining member of the beloved Winthrop family, has been shot and killed by burglars. Early this morning a security guard noticed that the alarm light was off, entered the home, and found Mr. Winthrop's body. He had been shot twice. Apparently the thieves were after valuable paintings and were interrupted. Gary Winthrop was the fifth and last member of the family to meet a violent death this year."



Dana turned off the television monitor and sat there for a long time. Who would want to wipe out a wonderful family like that? Who? Why?



Dana arranged an appointment with Senator Perry Leff at the Hart Senate Office Building. Leff was in his early fifties, an earnest and impassioned man.



He rose as Dana was ushered in. "What can I do for you, Miss Evans?"



"I understand that you worked closely with Taylor Winthrop, Senator?"



"Yes. We were appointed by the president to serve on several committees together."



"I know what his public image is, Senator Leff, but what was he like as a person?"



Senator Leff studied Dana for a moment. "I'll be glad to tell you. Taylor Winthrop was one of the finest men I've ever met. What was most remarkable about him was the way he related to people. He really cared. He went out of his way to make this a better world. I'll always miss him, and what's happened to his family is just too goddamn awful to think about."



Dana was talking to Nancy Patchin, one of Taylor Winthrop's secretaries, a woman in her sixties, with a lined face and sad eyes.



"You worked for Mr. Winthrop for a long time?"



"Fifteen years."



"In that period of time, I imagine you got to know Mr. Winthrop well."



"Yes, of course."



Dana said, "I'm trying to get a picture of what kind of man he was. Was he - ?"



Nancy Patchin interrupted. "I can tell you exactly what kind of man he was, Miss Evans. When we discovered my son had Lou Gehrig's disease, Taylor Winthrop took him to his own doctors and paid all the medical bills. When my son died, Mr. Winthrop paid the funeral expenses and sent me to Europe to recover." Her eyes filled with tears. "He was the most wonderful, the most generous gentleman I've ever known."



Dana arranged for an appointment with General Victor Booster, the director of the FRA, the Federal Research Agency, which Taylor Winthrop had headed. Booster had refused to talk to Dana at first, but when he learned whom she wanted to talk to him about, he agreed to see her.



In midmorning, Dana drove to the Federal Research Agency, near Fort Meade, Maryland. The agency's headquarters were set on eighty-two closely guarded acres. There was no sign of the forest of satellite dishes hidden behind the heavily wooded area.



Dana drove up to an eight-foot-high Cyclone fence topped with barbed wire. She gave her name and showed her driver's license to an armed guard at the sentry booth and was admitted. A minute later she approached a closed electrified gate with a surveillance camera. She spoke her name again and the gate automatically swung open. She followed the driveway to the enormous white administration building.



A man in civilian clothes met Dana outside. "I'll take you to General Booster's office, Miss Evans."



They took a private elevator up five floors and walked down a long corridor to a suite of offices at the end of the hall.



They entered a large reception office with two secretaries' desks. One of the secretaries said, "The general is expecting you, Miss Evans. Go right in, please." She pressed a button and a door to the inner office clicked open.



Dana found herself in a spacious office, with ceilings and walls heavily soundproofed. She was greeted by a tall, slim, attractive man in his forties. He held out his hand to Dana and said genially, "I'm Major Jack Stone. I'm General Booster's aide." He indicated the man seated behind a desk. "This is General Booster."



Victor Booster was African-American, with a chiseled face and hard obsidian eyes. His shaved head gleamed under the ceiling lights.



"Sit down," he said. His voice was deep and gravelly.



Dana took a seat. "Thank you for seeing me, General."



"You said this was about Taylor Winthrop?"



"Yes. I wanted - "



"Are you doing a story on him, Miss Evans?"



"Well, I - "



His voice hardened. "Can't you fucking journalists let the dead rest? You're all a bunch of muckraking coyotes picking at dead bodies."



Dana sat there in shock.



Jack Stone looked embarrassed.



Dana controlled her temper. "General Booster, I assure you I am not interested in muckraking. I know the legend about Taylor Winthrop. I'm trying to get a picture of the man himself. Anything you can tell me would be greatly appreciated."



General Booster leaned forward. "I don't know what the hell you're after, but I can tell you one thing. The legendwas the man. When Taylor Winthrop was head of the FRA, I worked under him. He was the best director this organization ever had. Everybody admired him. What's happened to him and his family is a tragedy I can't even begin to comprehend." His face was tight. "Frankly, I don't like the press, Miss Evans. I think you people have gotten way out of hand. I watched your coverage in Sarajevo. Your hearts-and-



flowers broadcasts didn't help us any."



Dana was trying hard to control her anger. "I wasn't there to help you, General. I was there to report what was happening to the innocent - "



"Whatever. For your information, Taylor Winthrop was as great a statesman as this country has ever had." His eyes fixed on hers. "If you intend to tear down his memory, you're going to find yourself with a lot of enemies. Let me give you some advice. Don't go looking for trouble, or you're going to find it. That's a promise. I'm warning you to stay the hell away. Good-bye, Miss Evans."



Dana stared at him a moment, then rose. "Thank you very much, General." She strode out of the office.



Jack Stone hurried after her. "I'll show you out."



In the corridor, Dana took a deep breath and said angrily, "Is he always like that?"



Jack Stone sighed. "I apologize for him. He can be a little abrupt. He doesn't mean anything by it."



Dana said tightly, "Really? I had the feeling he did."



"Anyway, for what it's worth, I'm sorry," Jack Stone said. He started to turn away.



Dana touched his sleeve. "Wait. I'd like to talk to you. It's twelve o'clock. Could we have lunch somewhere?"



Jack Stone glanced toward the general's door. "All right. Sholl's Colonial Cafeteria on K Street in an hour?"



"Great. Thank you."



"Don't thank me too soon, Miss Evans."



Dana was waiting for him when he walked into the half-deserted cafeteria. Jack Stone stood in the doorway for a moment making sure there was no one he knew in the restaurant, then he joined Dana at a table.



"General Booster would have my ass if he knew I was talking to you. He's a fine man. He's in a tough, sensitive job, and he's very, very good at what he does." He hesitated. "I'm afraid he doesn't like the press."



"I gathered that," Dana said dryly.



"I have to make something clear to you, Miss Evans. This conversation is completely off the record."



"I understand."



They picked up trays and selected their food. When they sat down again, Jack Stone said, "I don't want you to get the wrong impression of our organization. We're the good guys. That's why we got into it in the first place. We're working to help underdeveloped countries."



"I appreciate that," Dana said.



"What can I tell you about Taylor Winthrop?"



Dana said, "All I've gotten so far are tales of sainthood. The man must have hadsome flaws."



"He did," Jack Stone admitted. "Let me tell you the good things first. More than any man I've ever known, Taylor Winthrop cared about people." He paused. "I meanreally cared. He took notice of birthdays and marriages, and everyone who worked for him adored him. He had a keen, incisive mind, and he was a problem solver. And even though he was so involved in everything he was doing, he was at heart a family man. He loved his wife and he loved his children." He stopped.



Dana said, "What's the bad part?"



Jack Stone said reluctantly. "Taylor Winthrop was a magnet for women. He was charismatic, handsome, rich, and powerful. Women found that hard to resist." He went on: "So every once in a while, Taylor...slipped. He had a few affairs, but I can assure you that none of them was serious, and he kept them very private. He would never do anything to hurt his family."



"Major Stone, can you think of anyone who would have had a reason to kill Taylor Winthrop and his family?"



Jack Stone put down his fork. "What?"



"Someone with that high a profile must have madesome enemies down the line."



"Miss Evans - are you implying that the Winthrops weremurdered ?"



"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 Iam 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.



Morgan Ormond, the director of the Georgetown Museum of Art, was next on Dana's list.



"I understand you wanted to ask me about Gary Winthrop?"



"Yes. I wondered - "



"His death was a terrible loss. Our nation has lost its greatest art patron."



"Mr. Ormond, isn't there a great deal of competition in the art world?"



"Competition?"



"Doesn't it sometimes happen that several people might be after the same work of art and get into - "



"Of course. But never with Mr. Winthrop. He had a fabulous private collection, yet at the same time he was very generous with museums. Not just with this museum, but with museums all over the world. His ambition was to make great art available to everybody."



"Did you know of any enemies he - "



"Gary Winthrop? Never, never, never."



Dana's final meeting was with Rosalind Lopez, who had worked for Madeline Winthrop for fifteen years as her personal maid. She was now working at a catering business she and her husband owned.



"Thank you for seeing me, Miss Lopez," Dana said. "I wanted to talk to you about Madeline Winthrop."



"That poor lady. She - she was the nicest person I've ever known."



It's beginning to sound like a broken record, Dana thought.



"It was just terrible the awful way she died."



"Yes," Dana agreed. "You were with her a long time."



"Oh, yes, ma'am."



"Do you know of anything she might have done that would have offended anybody or made enemies of them?"



Rosalind Lopez looked at Dana in surprise. "Enemies? No, ma'am. Everyone loved her."



Itis a broken record, Dana decided.



On her way back to the office, Dana thought, I guess I was wrong. In spite of the odds, their deaths must have been coincidental.



Dana went in to see Matt Baker. She was greeted by Abbe Lasmann.



"Hi, Dana."



"Is Matt ready for me?"



"Yes. You can go in."



Matt Baker looked up as Dana walked into his office. "How's Sherlock Holmes today?"



"It's elementary, my dear Watson. I was wrong. There is no story there."