by Dark Harbor
“It makes me want to go right back to sleep,” Stone said.
“Sex renders men unconscious,” she laughed. “I’m quoting you.”
THEY WERE AT BREAKFAST, eating without much conversation. Holly spoke up. “I want to meet this burglar of yours,” she said.
“What, you want a date?”
“Thanks, but I’m all booked up,” she said, kicking him under the table. “No, I’m just surprised you aren’t paying more attention to him.”
“Dino and I eliminated him as a suspect.”
“On what grounds?”
“Since his father’s death and his own release from prison, he’s become a valued member of the community; he’s married with a child; he earns a very good living making very expensive cabinets; and he’s too smart to foul his own nest, especially such a small nest. He also has nothing in his record to indicate that he’s interested in committing crimes of a sexual nature, raping and murdering teenaged girls.”
“Still, he has a lot of skills that make him a suspect.”
“I actually had him go over this house and give me his opinion on the security features. He was impressed.”
“Let me get this straight,” Holly said. “You gave a high-class burglar a tour of your home, pointing out all the security features?”
“Yes, and actually he pointed them out to me, not the other way around.”
“God, you’re naive, Stone.”
“I am not.”
“Don’t you know anything about burglars?”
“Of course I do; I worked burglary for a year on the NYPD.”
“How many did you catch?”
Stone hesitated. “Not as many as I would have liked.”
“There you go,” Holly said. “A smart burglar is notoriously hard to nail. If he doesn’t get caught or seen on the property or leave fingerprints or DNA, and if he has a fence unknown to the police, he’s damn near bulletproof. These guys know this. Even the ones who get caught learn from their mistakes and go right back to work as soon as they’re out of the joint. Very high recidivism rate among burglars. There’s also a significant sexual component to these crimes; burglars are often rapists. They get caught for that rather than for the burglaries.”
“All right,” Stone said. “I’ll introduce you to the guy.”
Mabel Hotchkiss bustled into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re already eating,” she said. “I wanted to make breakfast for you.”
“We fixed our own,” Stone said. “How was your evening on the mainland?”
“We enjoyed it very much,” Mabel said, starting to clean up the pots and pans they’d used.
“You should have stayed longer.”
“No, one night there is enough. I like to get home.”
“Mabel,” Stone said, “can you ever remember anyone getting into this house who shouldn’t have been here? Anyone outside the family?”
Mabel shook her head. “Mr. Stone said that could never happen, because of steps he’d taken.”
“Has either you or Seth ever lost a key?”
“No, we each have one; mine’s in my purse, and Seth’s is in his pocket. Why do you ask?”
“I’m still trying to figure out everything.”
They finished their breakfast, then Stone got out the MG and they drove north on the island.
“I don’t know what our excuse is going to be for this visit,” Stone said.
“Why do we need an excuse?”
“I don’t want to appear to be harassing the man,” he said.
“Leave it to me.”
They turned onto Hal Rhinehart’s drive and stopped next to the shop. Rhinehart was at his drawing table in his office, working on a set of plans. “Good morning,” he said.
“Morning, Hal. I want you to meet Holly Barker, a friend of mine.”
Rhinehart shook Holly’s hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.
“I wanted to ask you about something,” Holly said.
“Go ahead.”
“You know the Stone house has Assa locks.”
“Yes, and they’re the best.”
“If you wanted to get past one of them, how would you do it?”
“I’d find another way in,” he replied. “I wouldn’t waste my time working on an Assa.”
“I’m talking about the Stone house, specifically,” she said.
“That’s a very tight house,” he replied. “If I really wanted to get in, I’d try and steal a key from somebody. Otherwise, I’d pass it up for something easier.”
“Could you get a duplicate key made?” Holly asked.
Rhinehart shrugged. “I’d try and bribe the locksmith who installed it. He’d have to order a key or a blank from Assa, in Sweden. The trouble is, there’s no locksmith on the island; Dick Stone would have to have found one in a larger city to come and do the work, and there’s no way to know which one.”
“Suppose the bribery didn’t work. How would you get a key?”
“If I were in New York, I’d follow the maid to the subway and steal her handbag. As you can see, getting past an Assa would be a major pain in the ass.”
“Could you pick it?”
“I tried that once for two bloody hours and got nowhere. When you put the key into an Assa and turn it, something like ninety-two things have to happen inside the lock before it will open.”
“Could you make a copy of a key?”
“Sure, if I could get a wax impression. Then it could be cut from a solid piece of metal. That’s also a major pain. There are simpler ways to make a living as a burglar.”
A young woman carrying an infant came into the office. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were busy,” she said.
“This is my wife, Helene,” Rhinehart said, “and our baby, Dede. She’s nine months old.”
Holly made the appropriate noises with the baby. “Thanks for your help,” she said. “We’d better be going.” They said their good-byes and went back to the car.
“Well?” Stone said.
“All right,” she said, “Rhinehart sold me. He’s a reformed character.”
“Good questions about the locks,” Stone said.
“Yeah, but no good answers. I’m stumped.”
“So am I.”
“I guess we’ll have to pursue other leads.”
“What other leads?” Stone asked.
“Well, there is that,” she said.
36
BACK AT THE HOUSE, Holly came into the study where Stone was reading the New York Times.
“Have you got the key to Dick’s secure office?”
“Sure.” Stone took the key off his ring and handed it to her. “I guess Lance wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s Lance I want to contact,” she said, unlocking the door. She went into the little office, inserted a data card into the computer and switched it on. When prompted, she entered her user name and password.
“That’s a lot of digits for a password,” Stone said.
“Big-time encryption,” she said. She tapped in more keystrokes. “Ah,” she said. “I caught Lance at his desk.”
“What do you want to tell him?”
“I just want to bring him up to date, and I want to get more information about the Assa locks.” She continued typing, stopping now and then to read the replies.
“You’re using regular instant messaging?”
“It’s highly irregular instant messaging,” she said, “but the result is the same.” She typed a few more keystrokes, then ended the session. “He’ll get back to me.”
“I’m going back to the Times,” Stone said. “There’s the crossword yet to do.” He went back to his chair, grabbed the paper and put his feet up on the ottoman.
“I’m going for a run,” Holly said. “Want to join me?”
“I’m too comfortable,” Stone replied. “Go armed.”
“You think that’s necessary?”
“How many more murders do you need on an island this size to make yo
u cautious?”
“Oh, all right.”
“And stick to the roads; don’t run down any trails.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“I just want to know where to look for your body later.”
“All right, all right!”
HOLLY WENT UPSTAIRS AND changed into sweats and sneakers, strapped her 9 mm on, then left by the front door and headed toward the main road past the house. She stopped at the end of the driveway and did some stretching, then headed down the road, running lightly on the left side of the road, facing traffic. The day was bright and cool, perfect Maine weather. She had gone about a mile when a police car began coming toward her. It slowed as it approached, then stopped, and the passenger-side window rolled down.
“Morning,” a uniformed officer inside said.
“Good morning,” Holly said, stopping and going to the open window.
“I’m Sergeant Young of the Maine State Police,” the man said. “Who might you be?”
“I’m Holly Barker. I’m staying with Stone Barrington at the Dick Stone house.”
“I’m glad to know that,” Young said. “My partner and I are interviewing every living soul on the island in connection with the recent killings.”
“I can sympathize with your task,” Holly said. “I’m a retired police officer, and I’ve done my share of canvassing, though I’ve never interviewed a whole population.”
“Only about six hundred, locals and summer folk,” Young said. “Where did you serve?”
“First I was an army MP. Then I retired from that and became chief of police of a small town in Florida, Orchid Beach.”
“How long have you been on the island?”
“Arrived yesterday, with Stone,” she said. “My second visit with him, though the last one was only a couple of days.”
“How long you staying?”
“I don’t know, really. Until Stone kicks me out, I guess.”
“What do you do now, Ms. Barker?”
“Oh, I live the soft life.”
“I see you keep in shape.”
“Sporadically.”
“Well, enjoy your run, but please keep to the roads. We don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with here, so be careful.”
“I will, Sergeant.”
“Is Stone at home now?”
“Yep. Doing the crossword.”
“I’ll drop in on him.”
Holly said good-bye and continued her run.
STONE ANSWERED THE door to find Sergeant Young there. “Come on in, Sergeant,” he said.
“Thank you. I just met your lady friend, Ms. Barker, on the road.”
“Yes, she’s staying here. You want some coffee?”
“No thanks. Already had some this morning.”
Stone led him into the study. “I’m glad you dropped by; I want to show you something.” He went to the cabinet that once concealed the safe and opened it.
“What happened here?” Young asked.
“We came home last night to find that somebody had been in the house and ripped out the safe that was here.”
“What was in the safe?”
“Nothing particularly valuable: papers and such. And Esme Stone’s diary.”
Young looked at him sharply. “That’s the second diary to go missing,” he said. “Janey Harris’s was taken, too.”
“I don’t know if that’s what our visitor was looking for,” Stone said. “I can’t imagine how he’d know the diary was in the safe.”
“Who knew where it was?”
“Only three other people: Holly Barker, another woman of my acquaintance who was visiting, and her young son. The boy found the diary in an upstairs bedroom that Esme used for a study, and he was copying her handwriting, which was quite beautiful.”
“Did you read any of the diary?”
“No. I felt I would have been intruding.”
Sergeant Young made some notes in his notebook. “What time did this happen?”
“I guess between eight and ten; that’s about when Holly and I were having dinner at the inn.”
“Anybody know you were going?”
“No. Seth and Mabel Hotchkiss were on the mainland last night. But we were in Dick’s old MG, which is a pretty recognizable car. Just about anyone who might have seen us would have known it.”
“Why do you think he took the whole safe?”
“I suppose because he tried to open it and failed. Probably wanted to work on it at his leisure.”
“Was it an expensive safe? Hard to open, I mean?”
“A friend of mine opened it in a few minutes, without the combination.”
“Would that have been Ms. Barker?”
“Yes.”
“You have any idea how the thief got into the house? I understand this place is supposed to be very secure.”
“We’re baffled. Our best guess is he had a key.”
“Who else has keys?”
“Seth and Mabel Hotchkiss. Caleb Stone had a key, but he gave it back to me. The locks are by a Swedish company called Assa. They’re just about impossible to pick, and you can only get a key or even a blank from the manufacturer through a dealer.”
“I’ve heard about those locks,” Young said. “Are you sure the Hotchkisses are the only people with keys?”
“I’ll find out,” Stone said. He picked up the phone, pressed the intercom button and tapped in Seth’s extension. “Seth, can you come to the study for a minute?” He listened, then hung up.
Seth was there in less than a minute. “What can I do for you, Stone?”
“You know Sergeant Young, don’t you?”
“Know of him.” Seth shook his hand.
“Seth, who else outside the family might have a key to the house?”
Seth shrugged. “Nobody that I can think of. Dick was very strict about not giving a key to anybody but family. Caleb has one.”
“He returned it to me awhile back,” Stone said.
“Then just me and Mabel.”
“No repairmen, workmen, maybe the contractor who built the house?”
“Nope. After the locks were installed, I always had to be here to open the door for anybody who came to fix anything. I fix most things myself.”
“Any questions, Sergeant?”
“What have you had to have fixed by somebody else?”
“That Viking stove in the kitchen needed some adjustment once. Mabel let the fellow in and stayed with him while he did it. The installer of the TV and audio stuff made several trips, but I was always with him.”
“Nobody else?”
“Not that I can think of.”
“What about regular maintenance? Furnace, air conditioning?”
“I clean or replace the filters myself; I know how to light the pilot light.”
“Plumber? Electrician?”
“I do that stuff.”
“That’s all I’ve got,” Young said.
“Thanks, Seth. Oh, you should know that somebody got into the house last night and stole Dick’s safe out of the cabinet.”
Seth looked dumbfounded.
“I’ll tell you about it later.”
Seth left the room, and Stone heard the back door close.
Holly came back from her run and entered the study. “You two guys don’t look too happy,” she said.
“Good guess,” Stone replied.
37
STONE AND HOLLY had lunch on the rear terrace, enjoying the sun, and as Mabel was taking away the dishes the doorbell rang. Dick Stone had installed an outside bell, apparently for occasions like this.
Stone went to the door and found the remaining three Old Farts standing there.
“Good afternoon,” Rawls said. “We disturbing you, Stone?”
“No, gentlemen, come in,” Stone replied, waving them inside. “We’re sitting out on the terrace.”
Stone led them out onto the terrace. “Holly Barker, this is Ed Rawls, Harley Davis and Mack Morris.”
“
How do you do, gentlemen?” she asked.
They all muttered greetings.
“Stone, forgive me,” Rawls said, “but we need to speak to you alone.”
“Relax, Ed,” Stone said. “Holly is one of you; she works for Lance Cabot.”
Ed’s eyebrows went up. “Oh?”
“Yes, and she’s helping me with our, ah, situation. Anything you can say to me, you can say to her.”
The three men sat down around the table.
“Can I get anybody anything? A sandwich? A beer?”
“Maybe later,” Rawls said.
“What’s up, Ed?”
“We’ve been over and over this thing, and we’ve come to some conclusions.”
“I’m all ears,” Stone said, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table.”
“First of all, we think we’re dealing with two different people,” Harley said.
“How so?”
“We think one person killed Dick Stone and his family and another, unconnected person killed Janey Harris.”
“I suppose that’s possible,” Stone said. “Do you have any ideas about who either of them is?”
Rawls spoke up. “Stone, I hope you’ll take this as reluctantly offered.”
“All right.”
“We think Dick and his family were killed by Caleb Stone.”
Stone looked at the three men: They all looked dead serious.
“Tell me your reasons.”
“Money,” Mack said. “Dick’s wife’s money.”
“Money is always a good motive,” Stone agreed.
“Until Dick changed his will, we suspect that Caleb was his heir. Caleb’s never had a lot of money, and he has a reputation for living close to the line. He’s got two sons who’ve been educated expensively, a house in Boston and one here to run. He’s into his middle years with no hope of making much more than he is now.”
“All that seems to be true,” Stone said.
“And we guess he has a key to this house.”
“He doesn’t anymore; he gave it back to me.”
“After Dick and his family were dead?”
“That’s true.”
“He probably knows the security system code, too, unless Dick changed it,” Mack said.
Holly spoke up. “These are all good points, Stone.”
“Yes, they are. I’ll find out whether the security system code has been changed.”
