by Stuart Woods
Michael blinked once. He was impatient with all this talk. He had to find a way to let her know what he wanted to do.
“I’ve met somebody, and I’ve been seeing a lot of him. He’s younger than I am, but that never made any difference with you and me, did it?”
Michael blinked twice. Better to humor her until he could figure out something.
“He’s somebody you know, somebody you worked with,” she said. “His name is Chuck Parish.”
Michael’s eyes opened wide again.
“You remember; you made a couple of films together. This is all real incestuous, you know, because until recently, he was living with Vanessa, your old flame. She, my darling, is living with Bob Hart! Can you believe it? She must be some smart cookie to have been able to winkle him out of Susan’s clutches, but she did it. The divorce is the talk of the town!”
Michael blinked rapidly. This was insane.
“Chuck is sweet,” she said. “Not as good as you in bed, of course, but quite all right. He doesn’t seem to like to talk about you, but I knew you’d be glad I was with a friend of yours. I’ve taken the money in my trust that I got for my Centurion stock and formed a new production company to produce Chuck’s work. He’s a wonderful director and writer, as you well know, having discovered him!”
Michael closed his eyes tightly. How could he get her to shut up?
Amanda was quiet for a moment, then she wiped a tear from the corner of an eye. “You know why I’m here, don’t you?”
Michael stared at her.
“I remember our conversation when Leo was in the hospital. You were right then, and I want you to know that I understand what you must be feeling about your condition. I’ve had a second and a third opinion, but no one gives you any hope of any sort of a recovery. I’m afraid the best you could hope for would be to be propped up in bed and pointed at a television for the rest of your life.”
Michael blinked rapidly. He had to think of some way to communicate what he wanted.
“I know what you want, my darling, because you as much as told me when Leo was ill.”
Michael saw her hand go past the corner of his eye, and his head tilted up for a moment, so that he could see more of the room; then it was tilted back again.
“You changed my life,” she said, and she was weeping now. “I owe you everything, but now there is only one thing I can do for you.”
Michael saw something move into his field of vision, and it was white.
“Good-bye, my darling,” Amanda said. “I love you.”
The pillow filled his vision, and then it was dark.
Michael couldn’t even blink. He fought the pillow with his mind, but it didn’t work.
Suddenly it wasn’t dark anymore. There was light coming from somewhere, and, miracle of miracles, he could move! He held up a hand to shield his eyes, but then it wasn’t necessary. The light was kind, and it seemed to originate down a hallway or tunnel. Michael walked toward it.
Then there was a dark shape in the light—another person, and somehow he felt he knew who it was! He walked faster. It was a man, and he was walking toward Michael, his hands reaching out for him. Behind the man were other people.
Michael reached out for the man, and then he knew who he was. Onofrio Callabrese took his son’s hands and held them tightly. His smile was ghastly.
Michael struggled to free himself, and then other people were around him, pulling him forward into the light. They were glad to see him, in some odd way, and he knew them all. There was a woman, and it was Carol Geraldi. She held onto him particularly. Rick Rivera was there, and—my God! It was Leo! Leo put an arm around his shoulders and hurried him forward. Benedetto and Cheech walked alongside him, and there, coming out of the light, was the lawyer, Moriarty!
Michael felt a terrible fear, and he tried to dig his heels in, but nothing could stop his progress toward the light. Inexorably they drew him into it.
Michael suddenly found that he could do more than walk. He could scream.
THE END
Santa Fe, New Mexico, September 9, 1992
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am grateful to my former editor, Ed Breslin, who is now writing his own novel, for his fine work in editing this book; to Gladys Justin Carr, my new editor, for working so hard for the book’s success; to all the other people at HarperCollins for their help; to my agent, Mort Janklow, his principal associate, Anne Sibbald, and their colleagues at Janklow & Nesbit, who have been so important to my career over the past dozen years; and to Chris Connor, for helping me to understand Hollywood.
About the Author
STUART WOODS is the author of more than fifteen novels, including Chiefs, Grass Roots, Santa Fe Rules, L.A. Times, Dead Eyes, Heat, New York Dead, Imperfect Strangers, Choke, Dirt, Dead in the Water, Swimming to Catalina, and Deep Lie. He lives in Litchfield County, Connecticut and Vero Beach, Florida.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Praise
CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR
STUART WOODS AND
DEAD IN THE WATER
“Fast-paced, filled with enough humor, sex, and clever surprises all the way to the last page to make it thoroughly entertaining amusement.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Trying to make this neat tale last more than one sitting would be like staying up all night nursing a Godiva truffle.”
—Kirkus Reviews, starred review
DIRT
“Blackmail, murder, suspense, love—what else could you want in a book?”
—Cosmopolitan
“Dirty fun.”
—People
“This slickly entertaining suspense displays Woods at the top of his game…. Subtly reminiscent of the waggish P. G. Wodehouse, Woods delivers a marvelously sophisticated, thoroughly modern, old-fashioned read.”
—Publishers Weekly, starred review
“There is something delightfully nasty about the way Stuart Woods settles every account in his crime capers. Even more delightful is the juggling act that lasts almost to the last page, when payoffs fall like autumn leaves.”
—New York Daily News
IMPERFECT STRANGERS
“[Woods] does show a reader a good time.”
—The Washington Post Book World
“Engage[s] the reader’s imagination in an unconventional way. Compel[s] us, in our mind’s eye, to place [the novel’s] events on the silver screen in the shadow of a latter-day Hitchcock, and somehow it works.”
—Chicago Sun Times
HEAT
“High melodrama and unexpected twists make this Teflon-coated blockbuster business as usual in Woods’s practiced hands.”
—Publishers Weekly
“A high-concept action thriller.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Keeps you reading.”
—Cosmopolitan
L.A. TIMES
“A slick, often caustically funny tale.”
—Los Angeles Times
“Stuart Woods is a wonderful storyteller who could teach Robert Ludlum and Tom Clancy a thing or two.”
—The State (Columbia, S.C.)
NEW YORK DEAD
“Suspenseful and surprising.”
—Atlanta Journal & Constitution
“Hollywood slick and fast-moving.”
—Los Angeles Daily News
“Will keep you riveted.”
—USA Today
“At once chilling and pleasing. And the climax makes New York Dead as unnerving as a midnight stroll through Central Park.”
—Chicago Tribune
Books by
Stuart Woods
GRASS ROOTS
WHITE CARGO
THE RUN
WORST FEARS REALIZED
ORCHID BEACH
UNDER THE LAKE
RUN BEFORE THE WIND
CHIEFS
SWIMMING TO CATALINA
DEEP LIE
> DEAD IN THE WATER
DIRT
CHOKE
IMPERFECT STRANGERS
HEAT
DEAD EYES
L. A. TIMES
SANTA FE RULES
NEW YORK DEAD
PALINDROME
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
L.A. TIMES. Copyright © 1993 by Stuart Woods. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © November 2007 ISBN: 9780061847110
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