Sidney Sheldon - Nothing lasts forever

“I don't see any problem with that.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Edwards said. “The man hasn't slept in forty-eight hours. I've prescribed chloral hydrate for him so he can get some rest and …”

Mallory was looking at him in astonishment. “Are you out of your mind? That could kill him! He'd have a convulsive seizure, tachycardia, and he'd probably die. Where in hell did you study medicine?”

The man looked at Mallory and said quietly, “I didn't.” He flashed a badge. “I'm with the San Francisco Police Department, Homicide.” He turned to the man in bed. “Did you get that?”

The man pulled out a tape recorder from under the pillow. “I got it.”

Mallory was looking from one to the other, frowning. “I don't understand. What is this? What's going on?”

The inspector turned to Mallory. “Dr. Mallory, you're under arrest for the murder of Dr. Kate Hunter.”

The headline in the San Francisco Chronicle read, DOCTOR ARRESTED IN LOVE TRIANGLE MURDER. The story beneath it went on at length to detail the lurid facts of the case.

Mallory read the newspaper in his cell. He slammed it down.

His cellmate said, “Looks like they got you cold, pal.”

“Don't you believe it,” Mallory said confidently. “I've got connections, and they're going to get me the best goddam lawyer in the world. I'll be out of here in twenty-four hours. All I have to do is make one phone call.”

The Harrisons were reading the newspaper at breakfast.

“My God!” Lauren said. “Ken! I can't believe it!” A butler approached the breakfast table. “Excuse me, Miss Harrison. Dr. Mallory is on the telephone for you. I believe he's calling from jail.”

“I'll take it.” Lauren started to get up from the table.

“You'll stay here and finish your breakfast,” Alex Harrison said firmly. He turned to the butler. “We don't know any Dr. Mallory.”

Paige read the newspaper as she was getting dressed. Mallory was going to be punished for the terrible thing he had done, but it gave Paige no satisfaction. Nothing they did to him could ever bring Kat back.

The doorbell rang, and Paige went to open it. A stranger stood there. He was wearing a dark suit and carried a briefcase.

“Dr. Taylor?”

“Yes …”

“My name is Roderick Pelham. I'm an attorney with Rothman & Rothman. May I come in?”

Paige studied him, puzzled. “Yes.”

He entered the apartment.

“What did you want to see me about?”

She watched him open the briefcase and take out some papers.

“You are aware, of course, that you are the principal beneficiary of John Cronin's will?”

Paige looked at him blankly. “What are you talking about? There must be some mistake.”

“Oh, there's no mistake. Mr. Cronin has left you the sum of one million dollars.”

Paige sank into a chair, overwhelmed, remembering.

You have to go to Europe. Do me a favor. Go to Paris … stay at the Crillon, have dinner at Maxim's, order a big, thick steak and a bottle of champagne, and when you eat that steak and drink that champagne, I want you to think of me.

“If you'll just sign here, we'll take care of all the necessary paperwork.”

Paige looked up. “I … I don't know what to say. I … he had a family.”

“According to the terms of his will, they get only the remainder of his estate, not a large amount.”

“I can't accept this,” Paige told him.

Pelham looked at her in surprise. “Why not?”

She had no answer. John Cronin had wanted her to have this money. “I don't know. It…it seems unethical, somehow. He was my patient.”

“Well, I'll leave the check here with you. You can decide what you want to do with it. Just sign here.”

Paige signed the paper in a daze.

“Goodbye, doctor.”

She watched him leave and sat there thinking of John Cronin.

The news of Paige's inheritance was the talk of the hospital. Somehow, Paige had hoped it could be kept quiet. She still had not made up her mind about what to do with the money. It doesn't belong to me, Paige thought. He has a family.

Paige was not emotionally ready to go back to work, but her patients had to be taken care of. An operation was scheduled for that morning. Arthur Kane was waiting for Paige in the corridor. They had not spoken to each other since the incident of the reversed X-rays.

Although Paige had no proof it was Kane, the tire-slashing episode had scared her.

“Hello, Paige. Let's let bygones be bygones. What do you say?”

Paige shrugged. “Fine.”

“Wasn't that a terrible thing about Ken Mallory?” he asked.

“Yes,” Paige said.

Kane was looking at her slyly. “Can you imagine a doctor deliberately killing a human being? It's horrible, isn't it?”

“Yes.”

“By the way,” he said, “congratulations. I hear that you're a millionairess.”

“I can't see … ”

“I have tickets for the theater tonight, Paige. I thought that the two of us could go.”

“Thanks,” Paige said. “I'm engaged to someone.”

“Then I suggest you get unengaged.”

She looked at him, surprised. “I beg your pardon?”

Kane moved closer to her. “I ordered an autopsy on John Cronin.”

Paige found her heart beginning to beat faster. “Yes?”

“He didn't die of heart failure. Someone gave him an overdose of insulin. I guess that particular someone never figured on an autopsy.”

Paige's mouth was suddenly dry.

“You were with him when he died, weren't you?”

She hesitated. “Yes.”

“I'm the only one who knows that, and I'm the only one who has the report.” He patted her arm.

“And my lips are sealed. Now, about those tickets tonight …”

Paige pulled away from him. “No!” “Are you sure you know what you're doing?” She took a deep breath. “Yes. Now, if you'll excuse me …” And she walked away. Kane looked after her, and his face hardened. He turned and headed toward Dr. Benjamin Wallace's office.

The telephone awakened her at 1:00 A.M. at her apartment.

“You have been a naughty girl again.” It was the same raspy voice disguised in a breathy whisper, but this time Paige recognized it. My God, she thought, I was right to be scared.

The following morning, when Paige arrived at the hospital, two men were waiting for her.

“Dr. Paige Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“You'll have to come with us. You're under arrest for the murder of John Cronin.”

It was the final day of the trial. Alan Penn, the defense attorney, was making his summation to the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen, you have heard a lot of testimony about Dr. Taylor's competence or incompetence. Well, Judge Young will instruct you that that's not what this trial is about. I'm sure that for every doctor who did not approve of her work, we could produce a dozen doctors who did. But that is not the issue”.

“Paige Taylor is on trial for the death of John Cronin. She has admitted helping him die. She did so because he was in great pain, and he asked her to do so. That is euthanasia, and it's being accepted more and more throughout the world. In the past year, the California Supreme Court has upheld the right of a mentally competent adult to refuse or demand the withdrawal of medical treatment of any form. It is the individual who must live or die with the course of treatment chosen or rejected.”

He looked into the faces of the jurors. “Euthanasia is a crime of compassion, of mercy, and I daresay it takes place in some form or another in hospitals all over the world. The prosecuting attorney is asking for a death sentence. Don't let him confuse the issue. There has never been a death sentence for euthanasia. Sixty-three percent of Americans believe euthanasia should be legal, and in eighteen states in this country, it is legal. The question is, do we have the right to compel helpless patients to live in pain, to force them to stay alive and suffer? The question has become complicated because of the great strides we've made in medical technology. We've turned the care of patients over to machines. Machines have no mercy. If a horse breaks a leg, we put it out of its misery by shooting it. With a human being, we condemn him or her to a half life that is hell”.