“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 goodbyes 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.
Chapter 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 you 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 goodbye 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.”