Thomas spoke up. "I have some rooms upstairs," he said. "We had some cancellations because of the snowstorm in New York."
"Great," she said. "Can I borrow that car now?"
"Sure."
"And where can I pick up a toothbrush?"
"There are shops all around Government House."
"I'd like to call my office, too."
"There's a phone on the bar, or in your room," Thomas replied.
Kramer produced a camera from her bag. "I'd like to get some pictures of both of you," she said, beginning to snap them. "Does Federal Express know about this island?"
"They do," Thomas said. "They'll pick up from here; delivery will likely take two days, though."
"Shit," she said. "Allison, are there any pictures of you floating around New York?"
"Paul's agent has one of the two of us together," Allison replied. "Her name is Anne Sibbald; she's at Janklow and Nesbit."
"Know them well," Kramer said, continuing to photograph. "I'll call them right now. Thomas, will you lead the way to my room?"
"Right this way," Thomas replied.
When they had gone Allison turned to Stone. "Did that go well?"
"I think it could hardly have gone better."
"She's suspicious of you and me, though; woman's intuition. We'd better be very correct around her."
"We'd better be very correct everywhere, except in bed," Stone replied. "I'd suggest we give up sex for the duration, but I don't think I could stick to that."
She smiled. "Neither could I."
"Stop smiling at me that way," he said, looking around.
The smile disappeared. "I'll be very correct," she said.
CHAPTER 14
Stone had just finished his breakfast when Thomas waved at him from the bar and held up the phone. "Call for you from New York; fellow named Cantor. You want to take it here or upstairs?" "I'll take it down here," Stone said, crossing to the bar and picking up the phone. "Bob?"
"Yeah, Stone."
"I thought you'd be on your way to the Canaries."
"I'm calling from Kennedy Airport; this morning was the first flight I could make and still do your legwork in the city."
"What did you find out?"
"Almost nothing about Allison Manning, but quite a bit about her husband."
"Shoot."
"First, Allison; she went to some New England women's college, then worked in advertising, then she met Paul Manning, and they got married."
"That much she's told me; anything else?"
"Not yet; I didn't have the time to track down anybody who knows her."
"What about the husband, then?"
"I got luckier there. There was an interview a couple of years ago in Publishers Weekly, the trade magazine, right after he signed his last contract, which was for four and a half million dollars for two books. Not bad, huh?"
"Not bad at all."
"He finished the second book just before they left on the sailing trip. He had done increasingly well over the years, but three books ago he had a big bestseller, and that got him the new contract."
"Pretty rich writer, huh? And I was worried about Allison financing her defense."
"He's a big spender, at least since he signed that contract. He bought the place up in Greenwich; I called a friend of mine who's in real estate in that area, and she remembered the house. Big place-six or seven bedrooms; pool, tennis court, stables, greenhouses; on about eight acres; that's a lot of real estate in Greenwich. He paid two million eight for it, and she says it's probably worth three and a half, four million now. Then he ordered this yacht; I gather you've already seen that."
"Yeah; you find out anything about his debts?"
"He's got a two-million-dollar mortgage on the house-that's about the max you could get at that level-and he owes a million two on the boat. There's some smaller stuff, but not that small; he's got sixty grand in credit card debt and a line of credit secured by the equity in the house-three hundred thousand-and half that is used up."
"Anything about insurance?"
"His credit report shows that Chubb ran a check on him a while back, and that sounds like he's buying insurance."
"I know he had insurance; I just don't know how much."
"I reckon he has a net worth of around five, six million, if you include what's still to pay on the book contract. He's sometimes late on bill payments, but nothing serious, never more than thirty days."
"In short, he lives like a prince, but he's not all that rich."
"That pretty much sums it up."
"Any criminal record?"
"None."
"Ex-wives?"
"One. He was divorced about a month before he married Allison."
"Alimony?"
"I haven't had time to dig out the court records, but the divorce happened before he hit it big, so it's probably not too bad. They were only married a year, and it was a Florida divorce, so there's no community property law."
"What else?"
"Out of college he worked for newspapers, starting in small towns, then working his way up. His last job was on the Miami Herald, before he quit to write full time."
The sound of notebook pages being turned came down the line. "Graduated from Cornell with a degree in journalism; high school in Olean, New York; born and raised there. He was pretty much the all-American boy. Too young for Vietnam, so he was never in the service; won a couple of awards at the Herald; that's about it for now. I gotta run, Stone; it's last call for boarding."
"Get going, then; call me from Las Palmas when you've had a chance to pick up some more." He hung up the phone.
"You getting anywhere?" Thomas asked. "Sorry if I was eavesdropping."
"No problem. No, I'm not getting anywhere. That was just some background stuff on Paul Manning; nothing of any real help."
"Chester called a while ago; he's making special runs starting this afternoon-lots of requests for seats on that little plane of his."
"Sounds as though the press is heeding our call."
"Sounds like it."
"You know, Thomas, I think we might need a little security down at the marina when these people start arriving. I wouldn't like to let them too near Allison's yacht; she's going to need some privacy."
"Uh-huh," Thomas replied. "I've got two brothers on the police; they could help out and round up enough guys to stake it out around the clock, I imagine. How many you want?"
"Say two at a time, around the clock?"
"Shouldn't be a problem."
"How many brothers and sisters have you got, Thomas?"
"Six brothers and four sisters, and a whole bunch of nieces and nephews; I lose count. In those days there was less opportunity in St.Marks; it was before tourism took hold down here. Two more of my brothers left, then came back; the two on the police stayed and did all right. They're both sergeants."
"What did the sisters do?"
"They got married and had babies. Everybody's prosperous, for St.Marks."
"And you most of all, huh?"
Thomas grinned. "You could say that." The fax machine rang, and he turned to receive whatever was coming. "Hang on, this is more likely for you than for me." The machine spat out a single sheet; Thomas glanced at it and landed it to Stone.
It was typed sloppily on his own letterhead. "Dear Stone," she said, "I wanted to let you know that I'm not going to be here when you get back. Vance has to go back to L.A." and we're not nearly finished with the piece, so I'm going with him. I've no idea how long I'll be out there, but it's going to be at least a couple of weeks. I'll call you when you're back in New York. Best, Arrington."
Best. Not love,best. He didn't like the sound of that in the least, and he was suddenly very glad he'd fucked Allison Manning. He would do it again, every chance he had, for as long as he could.
He tore up the fax, threw it into the wastebasket behind the bar, and trudged up the stairs to start working again on Allison's case.
CHAPTER 15
Stone worked on his notes for the trial and tried to come up with new ideas for Allison's testimony, but he was depressed, and depression always made him sleepy. Soon he was stretched out on the bed and dead to the world.