Free The Sky Is Falling by Sidney Sheldon

ago. You were in Yugoslavia. I thought there was going to be a juicy story there, but it got hushed up pretty quickly. She’s probably living somewhere in Europe, but I’ll try to find out.”
    Fifteen minutes later Olivia Watkins said, “Tom is on the line for you.”
    “Tom?”
    “Joan Sinisi is still living in Washington. I have her unlisted number for you, if you want it.”
    “Wonderful,” Dana said. She picked up a pen. “Go ahead.”
    “Five-five-five-two-six-nine-zero.”
    “Thank you.”
    “Forget the thanks. Make it a lunch.”
    “You’ve got it.”
    The office door opened and Dean Ulrich, Robert Fenwick, and Maria Toboso, three writers who worked on the television news, came in.
    Robert Fenwick said, “It’s going to be a bloody newscast tonight. We have two train wrecks, a plane crash, and a major landslide.”
    The four of them began to read through the incoming news bulletins. Two hours later, when the meeting was over, Dana picked up the piece of paper with Joan Sinisi’s number on it and called it.
    A woman answered. “Miss Sinisi’s residence.”
    “Could I talk to Miss Sinisi, please? This is Dana Evans.”
    The woman said, “I’ll see if she’s available. Just a moment, please.”
    Dana waited. Another woman’s voice came on the phone, soft and hesitant. “Hello…”
    “Miss Sinisi?”
    “Yes.”
    “This is Dana Evans. I wondered if—”
    “
The
Dana Evans?”
    “Er — yes.”
    “Oh! I watch your broadcast every night. I’m a tremendous fan of yours.”
    “Thank you,” Dana said. “That’s very flattering. I wonder if you could spare a few minutes of your time, Miss Sinisi. I’d like to talk to you.”
    “You would?” There was a happily surprised note in her voice.
    “Yes. Could we meet somewhere?”
    “Well, certainly. Would you like to come here?”
    “That would be fine. When would be convenient for you?”
    There was a brief hesitation. “Any time. I’m here all day.”
    “What about tomorrow afternoon, say around two o’clock?”
    “All right.” She gave Dana the address.
    “I’ll see you tomorrow,” Dana said. She replaced the receiver.
Why am I going on with this? Well, this will be the end of it
.
     
     
    At two o’clock the following afternoon, Dana drove up in front of Joan Sinisi’s high-rise apartment building on Prince Street. A uniformed doorman stood in front of the building. Dana looked at the imposing structure and thought,
How can a secretary afford to live here
? She parked the car and went inside to the lobby. There was a receptionist at the desk.
    “May I help you?”
    “I have an appointment to see Miss Sinisi. Dana Evans.”
    “Yes, Miss Evans. She’s expecting you. Just take the elevator to the penthouse. It’s apartment A.”
    The penthouse?
    When Dana arrived at the top floor, she got out of the elevator and rang the doorbell of apartment A. The door was opened by a uniformed maid.
    “Miss Evans?”
    “Yes.”
    “Come in, please.”
    Joan Sinisi lived in a twelve-room apartment with a huge terrace overlooking the city. The maid led Dana through a long hallway into a large drawing room done in white and beautifully decorated. A small, slender woman was seated on the couch. She rose as Dana entered.
    Joan Sinisi was a surprise. Dana had not known what to anticipate, but the woman who got up to greet her was the last thing she would have expected. Joan Sinisi was small and plain looking, with dull brown eyes hidden behind thick glasses. Her voice was shy and almost inaudible.
    “It’s a real pleasure to meet you in person, Miss Evans.”
    “Thank you for seeing me,” Dana said. She joined Joan Sinisi on a large white couch near the terrace.
    “I was just about to have some tea. Would you care for some?”
    “Thank you.”
    Joan Sinisi turned to the maid and said almost diffidently, “Greta, would you mind bringing us some tea?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Thank you, Greta.”
    There was a feeling of unreality about