“What are you saying, Arrington?”
“I’m not saying anything, Stone. This is all hypothetical, don’t you see?”
“All right.”
“Then let’s leave it at that,” Arrington said. “It would not improve our relationship to go any further, and I don’t want anything to change.”
Stone thought about that. “As you wish,” he said finally. “Let’s leave it at that.”
Arrington crawled under the covers, snuggled close to Stone and rested her head on his shoulder. “Then let’s never speak of it again,” she said, fondling him.
The phone rang.
“Shit,” Stone said.
“Who could that be at this hour?”
Stone reached over her and picked up the phone. “Hello?”
“It’s Ed Rawls. They found Janey.”
“Is she all right?”
“She was floating face down in Dark Harbor.”
“Oh, God,” Stone breathed.
“She’d been beaten, raped and strangled.”
“Are the state cops on top of this?”
“They’re all over it. They’ve taken the body back to Augusta for autopsy.”
“When did they find her?”
“At sundown. They kept it as quiet as they could until they told the parents and got the body off the island.”
“And you think this is connected to Don?”
“I think Janey knew something about somebody, and she told Don, and that person killed them both. I just can’t see it any other way. I think all this Kirov horseshit is just that, and we ought to get about it.”
“I’ll let Lance know in the morning.”
“I’m sorry I called you so late.”
“It’s all right. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Stone hung up.
Arrington was staring at him intently. “Who’s dead?”
“A seventeen-year-old girl,” Stone said. “Her name was Janey. She was kidnapped, raped and murdered.”
“Peter and I are flying back to New York tomorrow.” She reached for the phone.
“Don’t bother calling Centurion; I’ll fly you back myself.”
“All right.” She turned her back to him and pulled her knees up into the fetal position.
“I’m sorry about this,” Stone said.
“It’s not your fault, Stone.”
They didn’t speak again until morning.
Chapter 31
BY MID-MORNING THEY were off the Islesboro landing field and headed southwest. An hour and a half later they touched down at Teterboro, New Jersey, and taxied up to Atlantic Aviation, next to a chartered jet waiting for Arrington and Peter.
“I wish you’d stay longer,” Stone said to Arrington as her luggage was being transferred.
“Peter wants to get back to his pony,” she said, “and I’m redesigning the gardens at the main house, so there’s lots of work for me to do.” She kissed him. “Take care of yourself.”
Stone knelt and gave Peter a hug and watched them board the jet, then walked with Dino through the terminal building to the parking lot, where Joan, his secretary, was waiting with his car. Half an hour later, they were back at Stone’s house.
He went to his office and wrote a check to the Samuel Bernard Foundation and gave it to Joan, along with the file on Dick’s estate and a letter to his old mentor. “Please have this hand-delivered to Sam Bernard,” he said. “I want it to pass through his hands on the way to the foundation. Then book a table at Elaine’s and call Lance Cabot and tell him I’d like to have dinner with him and Holly Barker.”
ELAINE’S AND ELAINE were as ever. Stone and Dino shook some hands, then sat down at their usual table, waiting for Lance and Holly.
Elaine came over and sat down. “So, you couldn’t stand it up there any longer, huh?”
“It was very nice up there, but I had to fly Arrington back.”
“So, you couldn’t stand it up there with Arrington, huh?”
“You’re not gonna win this one,” Dino said.
“I give up,” Stone said, raising his hands in surrender. “I just couldn’t stand it up there any longer.”
“That’s what I thought,” Elaine said, then moved on to another table.
Lance and Holly arrived, they ordered drinks, then Stone got down to business. “It looks as though our theory of a work-related death for Dick and his family may have been wrong.”
“I’m not convinced of that,” Lance said.
“There’s more news. After Don Brown’s death, his niece, a seventeen-year-old named Janey Harris, was kidnapped, raped and murdered on the island. Ed Rawls thinks the two deaths are connected, that Janey told Don something that got both of them killed. Ed thinks it’s local, and I have to agree with him.”
“And how about the Stone family’s deaths. Does he think those are connected, too?”
“Dick’s daughter was eighteen, and the two girls had to have known each other. Maybe whatever Janey told Don she had told Esme Stone, too.”
“And the killer wiped out the whole family to protect himself?”
“It makes more sense than the Russian mob theory,” Stone said.
Lance seemed unconvinced. “For somebody who used to be a cop, it’s odd that you would form a theory on so little evidence,” he said. “This is an air theory, like air guitar is making music.”
Dino spoke up. “I’ve seen solutions of a lot of murder cases that were based on less, in the beginning. An investigator needs a theory, if only to have it proved wrong. You have to work with the evidence you’ve got, even if it’s thin.”
“Lance,” Stone said, “have you heard anything from your friend at Langley about who Don Brown wanted the background check on?”
“Not yet,” Lance said. “It could be days or weeks before I hear from him.”
The waiter brought menus, and they ordered.
When they were halfway through dinner, Lance spoke up again. “My people are not going to buy your local theory.”
“It’s Ed Rawls’s theory,” Stone said.
“That won’t matter to them. They’re not going to be distracted by the deaths of Don Brown and his niece. They won’t be inclined to believe that a high-ranking officer like Dick was killed by some information shared between two teenaged girls.”
“Lance, the facts surrounding what happened to Dick and his family are not going to be shaped by what Langley believes. They are what they are, and you need to explain that to them.”
“You obviously haven’t had much experience with large bureaucratic organizations,” Lance replied.
Stone laughed. “I worked for the NYPD for fourteen years.”
Lance laughed. “Touche.”
“Too many murder investigations are shaped by what the hierarchy wants to believe,” Dino said, “especially in high-profile cases. When you’re working a case, you have to ignore that, or you’ll come up with the wrong result.”
Holly spoke for the first time. “Who has motive?” she asked.
“Nobody,” Stone replied.
“How about Dick’s brother?”
“Caleb didn’t have a motive.”
“Our background check showed he was perpetually short of cash. That’ll do it in most murders.”
“Yes, but Caleb didn’t inherit from Dick, who changed his will.”
“Did the brother know Dick had changed his will? I mean, you only got the new will a couple of days before Dick’s murder.”
“You have a point,” Stone said. “It came as a surprise to Caleb when I told him. I’ll grant you he had motive, and he had a key to the house, so I’ll give you means, too, but he didn’t have opportunity. The state police put him in Boston at the time of the murders; he and his family didn’t arrive on Islesboro until the day after.”
“And how good are the state police? They didn’t do such a hot job on the first investigation of Dick’s murder, did they?”
“Again, you have a point,” Stone said.