by Stuart Woods
“Not really. He never complained about writing the checks, though.”
“He didn’t leave her any money, either.”
“Right,” Allison said, brightening. “How can she make any claim at all?”
“She can easily enough, if she has a court order, and that’s what a decree is. But she’s claiming they were never divorced, and if that’s true, there wouldn’t be a decree.”
“Stone, this doesn’t sound like the greatest problem in the world. Just tell her to call my lawyer in Greenwich, and if she doesn’t like that, then tell her to go fuck herself.”
Stone shook his head. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s here, don’t you understand?”
“So what?”
“She’s a completely unknown quantity. Worst case, suppose Sir Winston gets his hands on her and charms or frightens her? Suppose she turns up at your trial and testifies that Paul told her that he was afraid you were going to murder him?”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I did say it’s the worst case; people will do strange things when there’s a lot of money at stake. The thing is, I don’t want her hanging over our heads. She’s a loose cannon, and she could turn out to be very dangerous.”
Now Allison had grown quiet. “So what do we do?” she asked finally.
“I think we have to get her off the island as quickly as possible.”
“Maybe one of Thomas’s many brothers could kidnap her or something.”
He looked at her sharply. “Don’t even joke about that.”
She held up her hands. “Sorry. So how do we get her off the island?”
“How much money have you got in your Greenwich bank account?”
“Well, I’m not sure, exactly.”
“Allison, this is no time to fuck around. How much?”
“A little over a million dollars.”
“In your checking account?”
“Well, it’s an interest-bearing account.”
“Oh, great.”
“Are you suggesting I should pay her a million dollars?”
“No, but you’re going to have to let me negotiate something with her.”
“How much of a something?”
“Whatever it takes, if we want to get rid of her in a hurry, and we certainly do.”
“Do you think we could get rid of her for half a million dollars?”
“I think a reasonable person would accept that, but I have no idea how reasonable she is.”
“If she wants more than that I’ll shoot her myself,” Allison said.
“Goddammit, I told you not to talk like that!” he practically shouted.
“All right, all right, just deal with her. I’ll trust you to handle it as you see fit.”
“God, I wish I had that decree,” Stone said.
“But you don’t; just do the best you can.”
“Give me your checkbook,” Stone said.
She found her handbag, dug out the checkbook, and handed it to Stone.
He ripped out a check. “Sign it,” he said.
“A blank check? Are you nuts?”
“Sign it.”
Allison signed the check.
Stone ripped it out and tucked it into a pocket. “Now find two blank pieces of paper, and sign them.”
She went to the chart table, found some paper, signed two sheets, and handed them over. “You see how I trust you,” she said.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said, and left the yacht.
Chapter
27
Stone strode toward the Shipwright’s Arms. Dusk was falling, and the first customers were arriving for dinner. He looked around, saw no sign of the other Mrs. Manning, then went to the bar. “Give me a rum and tonic, Thomas,” he said.
Thomas complied. “Seems like you got something of a mess on your hands,” he said.
“Tell me about it. Will you ring Mrs. Manning’s room, please?”
“She left orders not to be disturbed.”
“Disturb her.”
“Stone,” Thomas said gently, “if you’re going to handle this lady, don’t you think you’d better do it gently?”
Stone took a deep breath and exhaled. “You’re right,” he said. “I’ll wait for the lady to make her appearance for dinner.” He picked up his drink. “I’m going upstairs for a few minutes; if she shows up tell her I’d like it if she’d join me for dinner.”
“I’ll tell her.”
Stone went up to his room, switched on his computer, and began to type. When he had finished he printed out the document on the blank page over Allison’s signature, slipped it into an envelope, and started to leave. Then he stopped, picked up the phone, and dialed Bob Cantor’s number again, and once more got his answering machine. He swore and slammed down the phone, then composed himself and went downstairs.
Libby Manning was sitting at the bar, sipping a martini; he wondered if she were a drunk. If so, he’d better get moving. “Good evening,” he said to her, managing a smile.
“Good evening,” she said. “I accept your invitation to dinner.”
“I’m glad,” he replied. “Thomas, may we have a table?”
“Right this way,” Thomas said, picking up a pair of menus.
“Something quiet,” Stone whispered as he passed.
Thomas showed them to a corner table with a view of the harbor, then he brought Libby Manning another martini and Stone a rum and tonic.
She raised her glass. “Better days,” she said, smiling.
“I’ll drink to that,” Stone said, sipping his drink. “So, Libby, tell me something about yourself. Are you a Florida girl?”
“Born and bred,” she said. “Went to Dade County High and the University of Miami, majored in journalism, went to work for the Herald. How about you?”
“Born and bred in New York, NYU law school, a time with the NYPD, then retirement and the practice of law.”
“What kind of law?”
“Whatever comes along.”
“I thought most lawyers specialized these days.”
“Most do. Whatever my clients need done, I specialize in.”
“And how did the lovely Allison come to hire you?”
“Well, when she sailed in alone on that boat, I was the only game in town, I guess.”
“Were the papers right? Is she going to hang?”
“Not if I can help it.”
“Can you help it?”
“That remains to be seen.”
“The trial is next week?”
“That’s right.”
“And if they hang her, it’ll be pretty quick, will it?”
“Libby, you are a pessimist.” Or maybe an optimist, he thought to himself. “Let’s order.” They chatted idly, until their food came, and ate mostly in silence. She was waiting for him to make the first move, he reckoned. Then, as they ate, another couple was shown to a table a few yards away. Stone looked up and gulped.
Libby leaned forward. “Who is that extraordinary-looking black fella?” she asked.
“His name is Sir Winston Sutherland,” Stone replied, keeping his voice down, “and he is the worst nightmare of any white woman traveling alone in this country.”
Her eyes widened. “How do you mean?”
“His greatest pleasure seems to be finding innocent American girls, charging them with capital crimes, and hanging them without much of a trial. Allison is his most recent victim.”
“He’s the one who’s prosecuting her?”
Stone nodded. “Take my advice, Libby; avoid him at all costs, and whatever you do, don’t let him find out who you are.”
Libby downed the rest of her martini and started on the wine. “Why should I be afraid of him?”
“Well, another rich American widow might be a tempting target.”
“Rich? Me?”
“Well, Paul was fairly rich, wasn’t he? Sir Winston knows all about that.”
>
“Jesus, Paul was only sending me ten thousand dollars a month.”
“Three thousand,” Stone said, sipping his wine.
“Well, I’m sure he must have provided for me in his will.”
Stone took the document from his envelope and handed it to her. “I think you’d better read his will.”
She dug some glasses out of her handbag and read quickly. “That shit,” she said under her breath. “That utter and complete shit. I’ll get a lawyer and sue his estate.”
“On what grounds?” Stone asked.
“Oh, a lawyer will come up with something.”
“Libby, the kind of lawyer who would take your case would bleed you dry before the court even ruled, and then you’d get nothing.”
“I’d still get my alimony,” she said.
“Maybe. I won’t know that until I see your divorce decree. A copy is being faxed to me from Miami tomorrow morning.”
She blinked rapidly, but said nothing.
“Libby, if you should sue the estate, it will upset Allison very badly, and right now, she holds the purse strings. She’ll stop paying your alimony until a court rules otherwise, and that could take a long time. Are you prepared to get by on the salary from your newspaper column in Palm Beach until it all gets sorted out? It could take years.”
“Oh, I’ll get by all right; don’t you worry,” she said, smiling, but she was still blinking rapidly.
“Let me make a suggestion,” Stone said.
“Go right ahead.”
“Suppose Allison gave you, say, ten years of alimony, all at once. That would be three hundred and sixty thousand dollars in your bank account, right now.”
“Right now?”
“The minute the check clears.”
Libby stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “No, sir; I want a million dollars.”
“Allison has authorized me to offer you four hundred thousand dollars,” Stone said, “and not a cent more.” He took the check out of his pocket, filled in her name and the amount, and handed it to her.
Libby put on her glasses again and looked at the check. “Yeah,” she said, “and as soon as I’m out of here she’ll stop payment.”
“No, she won’t do that,” Stone replied, handing her the document he had written a few minutes before.
She began reading.
“You see, it says that if she stops payment, you can sue her. And four hundred thousand dollars, wisely invested, should give you an annual income that represents a substantial raise over what you’re getting now. And you’d always have that nest egg to fall back on.” He took the document, filled in the amount, and handed it to her. “Allison’s signature is already at the bottom, and her signature is on the check.”
She looked up at him, obviously tempted.
“If you demand more, Allison will fight you, and she’s the one with all the money. All you have to do is sign both copies of that document, have Thomas witness it, then go upstairs, get a good night’s sleep, and take the first plane back to Miami tomorrow morning. The reservation has already been made.”
Still, she hesitated.
“The money can be in your bank account within three business days, if you ask your bank to rush it.”
“Suppose Allison gets hanged next week? What then?”
“The money’s still yours. But if she hangs and you sue her estate, then you’ll have to fight Allison’s heirs, and they’re going to care even less about you than she does. At least she’s trying to do the right thing, even though she doesn’t have to.”
Libby Manning stood up and walked over to the bar, clutching the documents, with Stone right behind her. “Thomas,” she said, “will you witness my signature, please?”
“Of course,” Thomas said, watching her sign the documents, then signing them himself.
She handed Stone his copy and tucked her copy and the check into her handbag. “What time is the first flight out tomorrow morning?” she asked him.
“Chester flies at eight o’clock sharp. Would you like me to drive you to the airport?”
“Thank you, yes,” she said. She held out her hand to Stone and shook his. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Barrington,” she said, then she turned and marched upstairs.
Thomas looked at Stone. “I take it the matter is settled?”
“It is. Call Chester and get her on that plane, no matter who he has to throw off.”
“Right.”
“And kill her telephone; I don’t want her talking to anybody tonight. Oh, and send her a bottle of good champagne on me; I want her to sleep well.”
Thomas smiled broadly. “Right.”
Stone walked toward the door. As he did, Sir Winston Sutherland smiled at him and raised a hand. Stone smiled broadly and returned his salute. Then he glanced out of the restaurant toward the marina and saw something he did not wish to see. Allison was walking fast across the lawn toward the inn, her arms pumping, and she had an angry and determined look on her face. Stone, without actually running, went to head her off.
He met her thirty yards from the inn and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. He tucked her arm in his and started steering her back toward the marina.
“Let go of me!” she erupted, struggling to free her arm.
“Shut up, Allison, and keep walking toward the boat,” he said through clenched teeth.
She continued to struggle. “I’m not giving that bitch a thin dime!” she hissed. “Let go of my arm!”
“Allison, you and I cannot have a wrestling match on the lawn; Sir Winston Sutherland is up there having dinner with his wife. Don’t make a scene!”
That stopped the struggle, but did nothing for Allison’s temper. “I’ll kill her!” she hissed.
“Shut up! That’s all we need is for somebody to hear you say that. It would make very interesting testimony at your trial!” He stopped walking. “Now, I want you to go back to the yacht and calm yourself. I’ll be there in a few minutes, and I’ll explain everything to you.”
“Oh, all right,” she said and stalked off toward the marina.
Stone watched to see that she went all the way, then he walked back to the bar and ordered another drink. He wanted to be sure that Sir Winston left the restaurant without running into Libby Manning.
Chapter
28
Stone smelled cooking as he boarded Expansive. He found Allison below, with lamb chops on the stove. “Smells good,” he said.
“Want some?” she asked. Her fit of temper seemed to be over.
“No, thanks. I had something to eat with the former Mrs. Manning.” He poured himself a glass of wine from an open bottle on the saloon table.
“So how did it go?” Allison asked, looking anxious.
“If I tell you, do you promise not to go up there and kill her?”
“I promise; I’m sorry about the way I behaved. I just got to thinking about the avaricious bitch, and it got the better of me.”
“She accepted your offer.”
Allison groaned. “And how much did I offer?”
“Four hundred thousand.”
“Jesus. Did she sign something?”
Stone handed her the document and watched as she read it. “Don’t worry, it’s ironclad.”
Allison threw her arms around him. “And you saved me a hundred thousand dollars!”
“That’s one way of looking at it,” Stone said.
“Well, I had expected to pay half a million.”
“Then I saved you a hundred thousand dollars.” He sat down at the table and sipped his wine. “Funny, I feel bad about it, for some reason.”
“You sure you don’t want a lamb chop?”
“I’m happy with my wine.”
She sat down across from him and dug into her dinner. “Why would you feel bad?”
“I felt sorry for her, I guess.”
“I don’t; why should you?”
“Well, she’s been struggling along for the ten years since her d
ivorce on not a hell of a lot of money from Paul, plus whatever she got for writing some column for some local paper in Palm Beach, and that’s not the cheapest place in the world to live. She said the column didn’t pay much, but it got her to all the parties. I just have this vision of her growing old in Palm Beach with nothing.”
“She’s got four hundred thousand dollars,” Allison said, savaging a lamb chop. “I don’t call that nothing.”
“You’re right; I guess she’s better off than she was before she came down here. I hope she doesn’t blow it all on high living.”
“If she does, it would serve her right, taking all that money from a poor widow.”
“A very rich widow.”
“Not very rich.”
He felt unaccountably exasperated with her. “Come on, Allison, you’re fixed for life—not like poor Libby.”
“And how do you know I’m fixed for life?” she said, pausing in her attack on the chop.
“I have my sources,” Stone said.
She cocked her head and looked at him with mock suspicion. “Stone Barrington, have you been checking up on me?”
“Checking up on people is a big part of my work,” he said.
“And just what did you find out?”
“That you’re who you say you are, and Paul was who you say he was, and you’re very rich, that’s all. You could easily afford the four hundred grand.”
“I hope you didn’t find out anything bad about me,” she said, resuming her dinner.
“No, I didn’t. Is there something bad about you I should know?”
“Only in my own mind, I guess.”
“You been thinking bad thoughts about yourself?”
“Well, I seduced you, when I knew perfectly well that you had a girl.”
“I wouldn’t feel too badly about that; I knew what I was doing. I was mad at Arrington for not showing up down here and even madder at her for running off to California.”
“With Vance Calder.”
“Yeah, with Vance Calder. I have to admit, that didn’t sit too well.”
“So I just got lucky and caught you in a weak moment?”
