by Stuart Woods
“Now, I want to bring you up to date on our investigation, tell you what we’re doing. We’re running criminal record checks on everybody on the island, full-time and part-time residents, and yes, this means you, no exceptions. We’re particularly interested to know if anybody on the island has ever been arrested or convicted of a crime of a sexual nature, so if there’s something like that in your background or the background of a person you know, I urge you to come to me directly about it, rather than wait for the record to turnup.
“We’re also rechecking the ferry records to see who was and wasn’t on the island at the time of the first murders, those of Richard Stone and his wife and daughter. There are no records of which private airplanes were parked at the airstrip at that time, but a resident who lives within sight of the airport has told us what he remembers about who was here, so we have a pretty good list of owners. Tom and I are going to be visiting every single residence on the island, so you will be seeing us at your house pretty soon. We’ll be talking by telephone with those residents who have recently left the island to return to their homes.
“We are going to determine from these interviews the name of every single person who was on the island the day the Stone family died, the day Don Brown died and the day Janey Harris died, so we’ll be asking each of you about that, and believe me, we’re going to verify every statement you make, so I want the truth from everybody first time out. Anybody who lies to us will immediately be treated as a suspect.
“Now, anybody have any questions? I’d rather you ask them now, because I don’t want to have to go over this again with every person I meet.” He looked around the room.
A man raised his hand. “We heard that you had determined that Janey had been raped.”
“That’s true,” Young said.
“Did you recover any DNA evidence during the postmortem examination?”
“I can see you’ve been watching CSI on television,” Young said. “The answer is no, we didn’t. The body had been in the water for several hours, and that would have helped remove any superficial DNA evidence or hairs or fibers that could have been of use. We found no DNA internally, either, which could mean either that being in the water removed it or that the perpetrator used a condom.”
Another man raised his hand. “Was there any connection between the firearm used to kill the Stones and the one used to kill Don Brown?”
“No,” Young replied. “They were each killed with their own weapons: the Stones with a .380 and Brown with a .45.”
Another hand went up. “How did the killer achieve entry into the Stone and Brown homes?”
“We believe that both homeowners failed to secure their properties and that the killers just walked in. Mr. Brown didn’t have a security system in his house; Mr. Stone had a very good system, but he did not activate it that night. This should be a lesson to all of you who have security systems or who plan to have them installed. If you don’t arm them, they’re not security systems; they’re just a bunch of useless wires and keypads. I want every home on this island to have its doors and windows closed and locked at night, and every security system armed.”
“Do you have any motive for any of these murders?” somebody asked.
“All we have now is supposition. If any of you has any reason to believe that any person had a motive in any of these killings, please see me after the meeting. That could be crucial information. There’s something else I want to talk to all of you about.” He looked around the room. “I’m aware that a number of you have applied for a license to carry firearms and that others of you have purchased weapons. Corporal Best is going to pass out a brochure to all of you that summarizes Maine law on the possession and use of firearms, and I want each of you who owns a weapon to take steps to see that you are entirely within the law. I will not tolerate the illegal possession or use of firearms on this island. I refer particularly to the securing of weapons to keep them out of the hands of children.
“Further, I want each of you to give serious thought about the circumstances under which you might use a firearm. It would be best if you had a plan of behavior if someone should enter your home, or if you should otherwise feel the need to use a weapon. Tomorrow afternoon at three, Corporal Best and I are going to hold a seminar here at the yacht club on the storage and use of firearms, and you should bring your weapons with you. Do not, however, bring any ammunition. Before you leave your home, check to see that your weapon is unloaded. We will only do dry firing during the seminar. Any other questions?”
From a rear corner of the room came Ed Rawls’s distinctive voice. Stone had not seen him there. “At yesterday’s meeting somebody expressed some curiosity about Stone Barrington’s role or interest in all of this. Maybe Stone would like to address that now.”
Sergeant Young turned toward Stone. “Mr. Barrington?”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Stone said. “Dick was my first cousin, my mother and his father being brother and sister. On the day that Dick and his family were murdered, I was in New York City. I didn’t learn of their deaths until the following evening, when a colleague of Dick’s told me the news.”
“I should say that we’ve verified Mr. Barrington’s whereabouts at the time of the murders,” Young said.
“I want to tell you all I know,” Stone said. “Shortly before Dick’s death I received a package from him containing a letter hiring me as his attorney and naming me as his executor, as well as an envelope to be opened in the event of his death. When I opened the envelope, after being informed that he had died, I found a properly executed will, and since I am under no obligation to keep its contents confidential, I will tell you what his bequests were. Dick left the use of his house to me and my heirs in perpetuity; if I choose to sell the house, the proceeds would revert to his estate.” He thought it better not to mention the exclusion of Caleb and his family from ownership of the house. “There were a number of personal bequests to friends and relatives on Barbara’s side of the family, and the residue of the estate was left to a charitable foundation. Additionally, there were two large insurance policies in the estate: Three-quarters of their combined value went to Caleb Stone, and the other quarter to the foundation.”
“Why did Dick leave his house to you?” somebody asked.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know, and Dick offered no explanation in his letter to me. I had seen him only once, for dinner, about eight years ago, since the summer I spent on this island when we were both eighteen. Dick said he planned to see me on his next trip to New York, when he might have explained things more fully, but, of course, that trip never took place.” Stone looked around. “Does anyone have any other questions?” Apparently, there were none.
Sergeant Young spoke up again. “I should tell you, if you don’t already know, that Mr. Barrington spent fourteen years with the New York City Police Department, many of them as a homicide detective, and he has been very helpful to me in my investigation. Any other questions?” No one spoke. “Then, unless the commodore has something else, that concludes this meeting. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The crowd broke up, and people moved into the parking lot to collect their children and their cars. Stone shook a few hands, then started back toward his house.
Ed Rawls caught up with him. “That was good,” he said. “You’ve nipped a lot of rumors in the bud.”
“I hope so. By the way, Lance Cabot found out who Don Brown wanted checked for criminal records.”
“Who?”
“The Stone boys, Eben and Enos.”
“And?”
“They were squeaky clean, both in Boston and New Haven, where they’re in college. The boys got an especially good report from the Yale campus police. So it’s a dead end.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Rawls said, “but how come Don ran the check on them? He must have had a reason.”
“I suppose he did,” Stone said, “but there’s no way to know what it was.” He looked at Rawls closely. “Ed, you seem depressed.”
“I’m not depressed,” Rawls said. “I’m angry, angry at what was done to these murdered people, all of whom were friends of mine. If I met the man who did this face to face, I’m not sure I could account for my actions.”
“I understand your feelings,” Stone said, “but what Sergeant Young had to say about firearms was important. If you take a shot at someone the consequences could be worse for you than for your victim. I’ve seen this happen before: Some citizen fires a weapon at a supposed criminal, kills or wounds him, then he has to deal with criminal charges, followed by a lawsuit. Believe me, it’s not a position you’d want to put yourself in.”
“I hear you,” Rawls said. “See you later.” He turned and walked back toward the yacht club parking lot.
Stone hoped to God Rawls had truly heard him.
Chapter 34
STONE TOOK HOLLY TO the Dark Harbor Inn that night for dinner. He wanted to wipe away all the tension surrounding the murders on the island, if only for the evening.
“So, how is the new job working out?” he asked.
She took a sip of her wine. “Without getting too specific, very well.”
“Do you like working with Lance?”
“I do. He can be autocratic at times, but that’s to be expected, given the position he’s in.”
“Which is?”
“Let’s just say that he has a lot of responsibility. But most of the time, he’s open to the ideas of others, and he’s inclined to delegate responsibility among those he trusts, and that seems to include me. I’m lucky, in that being pretty new on this job, I’m getting a lot more responsibility than I would if I had come out of training and started work at Langley.”
“From what I hear Lance is held in high regard at the Agency, and that should rub off on you.”
“That would be nice.”
They ate silently for a moment, then Holly spoke up again. “Arrington was up here for a visit, wasn’t she?”
“Well, yes.”
“Not a very long one, though. What happened?"
“She was upset about the murders: Janey Harris’s body was found while she was here.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, she and I pretty much agreed that there’s no permanent relationship in store for us.”
Holly smiled. “That’s awfully nice to hear. I’d hate to think that I’m up here only as an investigator.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not.” He poured her some more wine.
“I got a little worried when you let Seth put our luggage in different rooms.”
“I was just catering to Seth’s sensibilities; I didn’t want to shock him.”
“Can Seth hear what goes on in the house?”
“No, his place is well out of earshot.”
“That’s good,” Holly said. “I wouldn’t want him to hear your pitiful cries tonight.”
Stone laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, Seth and his wife are on the mainland tonight. They went to dinner at her sister’s house in Rockland, and the last ferry is at seven p.m., so they’re staying the night. We can lock down the house and not worry about being disturbed.”
“The best of all possible worlds,” Holly said.
THEY WERE DRIVING HOME when Stone’s cell phone vibrated. “Hello?”
“It’s Ed Rawls.”
“What’s up, Ed?”
“I thought you ought to know that Janey’s mother just told me her daughter’s diary disappeared.”
“When?”
“She can’t be sure, but since her death. She saw her in her room writing in it the afternoon before the evening she disappeared.”
“Could she have had it in a pocket or purse?”
“I asked about that: It was big, about eight by ten, so probably not. Her mother thinks someone came into the house, searched her room and stole it.”
“So whatever Janey might have told Don Brown might have been in her diary?”
“Right. Do you know if Esme had a diary?”
“As a matter of fact, I do and I’ve got it in a safe place.”
“Have you read it?”
“No, but in light of the theft of Janey’s diary I’m going to read it tonight.”
“Let me know if there’s anything relevant in it, will you?”
“I’ll call you in the morning.” Stone hung up.
“What’s happened?” Holly asked.
“Janey Harris’s diary has disappeared, but I’ve got Esme’s at home in the safe.”
“And Rawls thinks there was something in the diary that might have led to her murder?”
THEY WERE HOME in ten minutes. Stone unlocked the door and stepped into the entrance hall, ready to tap the alarm code into the keypad there. He stopped. “Didn’t I set the security system before we left?”
“Yes, I saw you put in the code.”
Stone looked at the small screen on the keypad. “Well, it’s not armed now.”
“Who could have disarmed it?”
“Only Seth and his wife would have the code, and they left before we did.”
“Could you have entered the code incorrectly?”
“Possibly. Maybe I got a digit wrong.”
“Or maybe not,” Holly said. She reached into her purse and came out with a Walther PPKS.
Stone unholstered the little .45 on his belt. “Let’s have a look around,” he said quietly. “We’ll go together, room by room, starting upstairs.”
The two crept up the stairs, listening. They did a standard police search, entering each room, checking each closet, any place that could hide a man. Stone paid particular attention to Esme’s room and the little bedroom across the hall that she had used as a study. This was where Peter had found her diary. There was no sign that anything had been disturbed.
They went back downstairs and searched the kitchen and dining room and the garage, then went into the study.
“Uh, oh,” Stone said.
“What?”
Stone nodded toward the back door. The vacuum cleaner sat just inside the door to the terrace. He went over and opened the canister. “Bag’s gone,” he said.
“Just like before.”
“Exactly like before.”
“But nothing seems disturbed.”
“Let’s look more closely,” Stone said. They worked the whole room, looking for some small sign that someone had been there.
“As far as I can tell,” Holly said, “everything is exactly as it was before.”
Stone tried the door to the terrace. “Locked.”
“Didn’t you say that Dick had some sort of special locks?”
“Yes. They use a key that you can only get from the manufacturer.”
Holly put her gun back into her handbag and came out with a small leather case. “You said the door to the terrace was locked?”
“Yes.”
She walked over to the door and tried it, then got down on her knees and opened the little case, which held a selection of lock picks. “Standard issue,” she said. “I’m supposed to be able to open just about anything.”
“You did a pretty good job on Dick’s safe, as I remember.”
“This is going to be harder,” she said, then went to work.
Stone walked around the study again and opened Dick’s secret office. It seemed undisturbed. The weapons were still in their cabinet. He went back and watched Holly work.
She stood up and put her lock picks away. “I can’t do it,” she said. “I mean, I’m not a genius at this, but the training I got at the Farm made me a lot better than all but the best burglars. These locks are made by a company called Assa, and we were told about them in our training. The U.S. Government uses them in special security situations.”
“I want to read Esme’s diary,” Stone said. He went to the cabinet that held the safe and opened it. “Holy shit,” he said.
“What?”
“It’s gone.”
“What’s gone?”
“The safe. Come an
d look at this.”
There were four crudely cut holes in the base of the cabinet, where the safe had been bolted down.
