“May I ask just how many years?”
“Well, let’s see: He had a design business in Minneapolis, and he and his partner made a presentation to us, oh, a little over two years ago. That’s when we first met. We hired them to redesign all our paper products- plates, sandwich cartons, the hats for the counter people, that sort of thing. Why do you want to know about Paul? Is he in some sort of difficulties?”
“Oh, no, nothing like that. It’s just that he bears a resemblance to someone I used to know and that Thad is interested in. We only want to know that he’s who he says he is.”
“I see,” Wilkes said. Clearly, he did not. “Who did you think he might be?”
“Did you meet Mrs.Winston Harding at Thad Shames’s party?”
“No.”
“Mrs. Harding is a close friend of Thad’s. The man we’re interested in was someone she knew in the past, who dropped out of sight a few years ago. No one knows what happened to him, but there are indications that he might be in Palm Beach. Someone noticed that Mr. Bartlett resembled this man, whose name is Paul Manning.”
“Well, why don’t you ask Paul about this?”
“I did, last night, but he pretty much denied being Manning.”
“But you’re not convinced?”
“Thad has asked me to investigate the possibility that Bartlett and Manning are the same man.”
“Then why don’t you arrange for Paul and Mrs. Harding to meet? Surely that would answer the question.”
“I had hoped to do that, but Mrs. Harding doesn’t wish to see him. Also, Mr. Bartlett checked out of his hotel this morning.”
“That’s news to me,” Wilkes said.
“I just wondered if you had any knowledge of Bartlett’s background before you first met him.”
“I saw a resume at the time,” Wilkes said. “He had a broad background in advertising and graphics design, worked for several places in New York, as I recall.”
“Did you check with any of his former employers for a reference?”
“No. We would ordinarily do that with a prospective employee, but we dealt with Paul as an outside contractor, and frankly, we were more interested in the presentation he prepared for us than in what he had done in the past. We were very enthusiastic about the work, and that was all that mattered.”
“Do you know anyone who has known Paul Bartlett much longer than you have?”
Wilkes thought about that for a moment. “No, I don’t believe I do.”
“Did you know Mr. Bartlett’s wife?”
Margaret Wilkes spoke up. “Oh, yes. In fact, we introduced them. Such a shame about Frances.”
“I understand she’s deceased?”
“Yes, in an accident last year. Terrible thing.”
“How did it happen?”
“She and Paul were out driving on a Sunday afternoon, and they swerved to miss hitting a deer. Frances was thrown through the windshield and killed instantly.”
“Who was driving?”
“Paul was, but he was wearing a seat belt.”
“There was no passenger-side air bag,” Wilkes said, “and apparently the buckle on Frances’s seat belt failed or was defective. I urged Paul to sue the car company, but he didn’t have the heart. He just wanted to put it behind him. That’s why he sold his company.”
“Do you know if he made a lot of money on the sale?”
“I shouldn’t think so; they were a fairly new company. I think the people who bought them wanted the talent they employed and me for a client more than anything else. Of course, Paul would be quite well fixed, though.”
“How is that?” Stone asked.
“Well, Frances was very wealthy. She’d lost her husband a few months before she and Paul met, and he’d left a considerable fortune.”
“I see,” Stone said.
“Mr. Barrington,” Margaret Wilkes said, “you’re beginning to frighten me. Are you thinking that Paul might somehow have caused Frances’s death?”
“At this moment, I have no real reason to think so, Mrs. Wilkes. I’m simply concerned with learning whether he is, or once was, Paul Manning.”
“This Manning,” Wilkes said, “what was his relationship to Mrs. Harding?”
“He was her first husband.”
“And what sort of man is he?”
“Not a very nice one, I’m afraid.”
“Was this just some domestic dispute?”
“More than that,” Stone said. “Manning murdered three people.”
“Good God!” Wilkes said. “He’s dangerous, then?”
“Manning certainly is, but please remember, I have no evidence yet that Manning and Bartlett are the same man.”
“Well, I hope to God you’ll find out!” Wilkes said.
“I know this is upsetting to you and Mrs. Wilkes,” Stone said, “and I apologize for that.”
“No, no, if Paul is this Manning, then we certainly want to know. I assume you’ll have him arrested.”
“We’ll take whatever measures are appropriate,” Stone said.
“I’ll hardly know what to say to Paul when we see him,” Mrs. Wilkes said.
“Do you expect to see him anytime soon?”
“Why, yes. He’s coming to dinner tonight.”
“Here, in this house?”
“Yes,” she said.
Wilkes spoke up. “Perhaps you’d better come, too,” he said.
22
The three of them stood on the afterdeck, Stone in black tie, Callie in a silk dress and Liz in a terry robe.
“I wish you’d come with us,” Stone said to Liz.
Liz shook her head. “I don’t want to see him,” she said.
Callie patted her small purse. “I’ve got a camera in here,” she said. “I’ll get his picture.”
“All right, let’s go,” Stone said. “I’ve no idea what time we’ll be back, but I’ve asked Juanito to keep an eye on you.”
“Thank you, Stone,” Liz said.
Stone and Callie walked to the car and drove north.
“What do you think is going to happen?” Callie said.
“I don’t think anything will happen. I’ll contrive to stand next to Bartlett, and you’ll take our photograph, come hell or high water.”
“Have you alerted the police?”
“No. If he is Manning, he’s not charged with anything. I just want an opportunity to get him alone and to put an offer to him.”
“What sort of offer?”
“Liz is willing to pay him to go away.”
“Oh. And you think that will work?”
“I can only hope so.”
“What if he still denies being Manning?”
“I’ve got a friend in New York working on Bartlett’s background. Maybe we’ll be able to present him with some evidence that he’s not who he says he is.”
“Tonight?”
“Probably not that soon, although my friend has my cell phone number.”
“This is kind of exciting,” Callie said, giggling.
“All in a day’s work,” Stone said dryly.
The gates of the Wilkes house were open, and a valet took their car. Stone and Callie walked into the house and were greeted by Frank and Margaret Wilkes in the foyer.
“Stone, Callie, welcome,” Mrs. Wilkes said.
“Thank you for asking us, Margaret,” Stone replied. “Is he here yet?”
“No. In fact, he called and said he couldn’t make it in time for drinks, but he’d be here for dinner.”
“Did he say why?”
“No. Why don’t you two go on out to the terrace and have a drink. Frank and I will be along as soon as all our guests have arrived.”
“Thank you, we will.” Stone led Callie through the house and out to the same terrace where they had sat earlier that day. A dozen couples had already arrived and were drinking and talking to the tune of a light jazz trio, which was set up beside the pool.
Callie saw some people she knew and introduced Stone. A waiter brought them drinks, and they chatted with the other guests. Soon the crowd had swelled to around fifty, and the Wilkeses joined their guests on the terrace.
Margaret Wilkes tugged at Stone’s sleeve and whispered, “I’ve arranged the place cards so that you and Paul are at the same table.”
“Thank you,” Stone said.