Free Natural Causes by Jonathan Valin Page B

"You wanted it--remember?"
    "You shouldn't talk to me like that," she
said.
    Moon leaned back in the chair and made a contrite
face. "You're right. I'm just sick of Quentin Dover. We wouldn't
be in this mess, if it weren't for him."
    I hadn't wanted to get involved in their 'Phoenix'
problems. After signing that contract, I figured the less I knew
about United's secrets the better. But it was beginning to look like
I didn't have a choice. It was also beginning to look like there was
a great deal about Quentin Dover that I hadn't been told.
    "Perhaps you'd better fill me in on this,"
I said to Jack.
    "Let Helen tell you," he said morosely. "I
haven't got the stomach."
    "Helen?" I said.
    "What's to tell?" she said hollowly. "He
dried up. For one year and six months he was a rock. He never had an
excuse. He never needed one. He got the job done."
    "Or Walt did," Jack said.
    "What difference does it make? We had a long-arc
story line, meaty breakdowns, and good scripts. Whether Quentin was
writing the long-terms or supervising their writing or just finessing
them, they were coming in on schedule. Six months ago, it all
stopped."
    "Why?"
    She laughed unhappily. "Do you think if I knew
why I wouldn't have done something about it?"
"Well,
what did Quentin say?"
    "What writers always say when they dry up. That
he didn't believe in the storv. That the breakdown people weren't
cooperating. That the conferences weren't helpful or specific enough.
He always had an answer."
    "The truth was that he was all squeezed out,"
Jack said. "And he knew it. There just wasn't any more
toothpaste in the tube."
    "Christ, that's callous," Helen said. "It
was a lot more complicated than that. He had open heart surgery six
months ago, and when he came back he just didn't have the same
resources of energy."
    "You mean he'd run out of lies."
    "Jack, where do you come off saying things like
that?" she said. "What did the man do to you? He thought he
was going to die, for chrissake. And that wife of his was throwing
fits every day. The whole fabric of his life was coming apart."
    "And all he did was smile and procrastinate
graciously."
    "What would you have had him do? He was used to
being in control, and the power was slipping through his fingers."
    "And I'm supposed to care about that?" Moon
said.
    "I don't know what you care about, Jack,"
she said. "But it's not enough to say that he'd run out of lies
or toothpaste."
    "You were just furious at him a minute ago!"
Moon shouted.
    "Oh, grow up." She turned to me. "He
was worn down, Harry. And then we pulled a switch on him. He'd
written a document before the surgery and we'd accepted it. But
goddamn General Hospital came out with their 'Ice Princess' story,
pulled a 40 share, and suddenly every soap on daytime had to have a
fantastic adventure of its own. We had a story conference here in
L.A. three months ago, and I laid it on the line to him. He had to
come up with a new document."
    "Yeah, and he said it would be no problem,"
Jack said. "That he'd have it done in two weeks."
Helen nodded. "We kept setting deadline after
deadline, all the while vamping with material from the old document.
By then the ratings had dropped. The network began to complain to
United. And United began to complain to me. I hopped on Quentin's
back. And now... now he's dead."
    "Helen," Jack said gently.
    She'd begun to cry. Real tears, this time. "I
killed him," she said. "I hounded him to his death--the
poor, sweet bastard. I made his last months a living hell. Christ,
how we fuck with other people's lives."
    Jack put Helen Rose to bed. I'd wanted to ask her a
few more questions, but she'd had it for the night. Frankly, I didn't
see how she would possibly make it through the next day--she seemed
that raw and depleted.
    But when I said something about it to Jack, he didn't
seem concerned. "Don't worry about Helen, Harry. She's used to
living on the ragged edge. She's a helluva lot tougher and more cagey
than she looks. Don't believe