"Did you know they'd be there?"
"They might have mentioned it, but it didn't register. Next time I saw them, I was standing on a stone jetty on the south side of the island, and they motored past on the boat, heading for Antigua. I yelled to them, and they waved back and said they were sorry they missed me, then they were gone."
"What was their mood at that moment?"
"Jubilant, like they were glad to be getting back to sea. They were laughing, I remember; he said something to her that I couldn't hear, then she laughed and slapped him on the ass."
"Jim, will you testify to all this at her trial?"
The writer shrugged. "Sure, if you think it will help."
"I think it just might help; you were apparently the last person besides Allison to see Paul Manning alive."
"Glad to do it."
"One more question, Jim, just between you and me: Do you think that Allison is the sort of person who could have killed Paul?"
Forrester looked astonished. "Of course not. Well, I guess anybody could kill anybody under the right circumstances, but I would bet the farm she had nothing to do with his death. Absolutely nothing I saw in their relationship would indicate that."
"Good," Stone said, relieved to have an objective opinion that reinforced his own. "I'll ask you some form of that question under oath."
"And I'll give you the same answer."
CHAPTER 16
The rest of the 60 Minutes crew arrived at dusk, and Stone had dinner with Jake Burrows and his reporter, Chris Wheaton. They met at the bar of the Shipwright's Arms, got a drink, and found a table. Stone looked over the reporter: she was small, intense, as blond as Allison, and handsome rather than pretty. He thought she would look very good on camera.
"Allison asked to be excused from dinner," Stone told her. "She says she needs a good night's sleep."
"That's okay," Wheaton said, "I don't want to meet her until we're on camera; the interview will be fresher that way. Has Jake told you how we're going to work this?"
Stone shook his head. "We made some ground rules about the air date and the segment, but that's it; you can ask her anything you want."
"Good. I expect we'll talk for at least an hour, maybe a lot longer."
This hadn't occurred to Stone, and it meant that they would be editing the tape to show the parts they liked best, and that might not work entirely to his client's benefit. It was too late to start negotiating again, though, and he'd just have to put a good face on it. "That's fine," he said, "talk as long as you like. If she gets tired or upset, we might have to take a break."
"We'll have to change tape," Wheaton replied. "She can pee or have a cry while we're doing that." She leaned forward. "Tell me, how did you become involved in this? Did she get you down here from New York when she found out she needed a lawyer?"
Stone shook his head. "I was down here for a cruise when she sailed in alone. My girlfriend didn't make it because of the snowstorm, and I went to the inquest for lack of anything else to do. It became obvious that her questioner had some ax to grind, and at the lunch break I offered to advise her."
"Who was the questioner?"
Stone told her about Sir Winston Sutherland and his attitude toward Allison.
"I don't get it," Wheaton said; "why would this Sir Winston guy want to make trouble for this poor widow?"
Stone thought she was being disingenuous, but he didn't call her on it. "I don't get it, either," he said.
"So why isn't some local lawyer defending her?"
"A local lawyer is defending her; I'm second chair."
"Who is he? I want to talk to him."
Stone's stomach turned over. "He's not talking to anybody but Allison and me. Maybe after the trial, we'll see."
Wheaton glanced at her producer.
"I mean that; he's got a lot of work to do between now and the trial, and I don't want him disturbed. He's an elderly man; he only has so much energy to devote to this, and I want Allison to get the benefit of all of it."
Wheaton nodded. "How much are you getting paid to defend her?"
"We haven't discussed a fee."
She smiled. "Uh-huh."
"It just hasn't come up," Stone said lamely.
"Is that how you would operate in New York?" Stone shook his head. "Of course not, but we're not in New York. She's a fellow American in trouble in a foreign place, and I'm glad to help her if I can. Anyway, I'm not necessarily a very good buy as an attorney in St.Marks, since I don't really know the ropes of the local legal system."
"What is the local legal system like?"
"Bizarre, and I hope you'll bring that out in your piece." He told her about the preliminary hearing and what he had learned about how the court operated.
She laughed out loud. "That's the most outrageous thing I've ever heard!"
"Please make that clear on television. To tell you the truth, I think there's more than one piece in this for you. If you're here for the trial, that ought to be an eye-opener, and I'd certainly be glad to have a camera waiting outside the courtroom."
"Any chance we could get a camera inside the courtroom?"
"You can try; go see the judge. I'd be happy for him to know that the American press is taking an interest."
"Jake, you want to take care of that tomorrow?"
"Sure," Burrows replied. It was the first time he had spoken. "Look, Stone, while I, and I'm sure Chris, have some sympathy for the lady's plight, we're not here to fight your battles for you; you have to understand that."
"Sure I do, but if just doing your job happens to work to Allison's benefit, that's okay with me."
"We understand that," Wheaton said.
The menus arrived, and they ordered dinner. When the food arrived,Chris Wheaton took another tack.
"I used to work local news in New York," she said. "I remember when you were on the force." "You mean ygu remember when I left the force, don't you?" Stone said, cracking a crab claw. "That's what I mean. Your name still pops up now and then."
"Does it?"
"You haven't exactly been press-shy, have you, Stone?"
Stone laughed ruefully."I've never sought coverage, but sometimes coverage has been thrust upon me by your colleagues in the media."
She found that funny."Still, your occasional flash of fame must have brought you a lot of cases as a lawyer."
"I've ducked more of that kind of case than I've taken," he replied."Most of my work has been fairly run-of-the mill."
"Didn't you get a very nice personal injury verdict a while back?"
He nodded. "Got a nice one last year; we even collected." And it had made life easier for him, too, he remembered. "I'm not the sort of lawyer who gets the big cases; those usually go to the big forms, and I'm pretty much independant.
"But you've done well, haven't you? I seem to remember something about a townhouse in Turtle Bay."
"I inherited that from a great-aunt and did most of the renovation myself. That verdict you mentioned paid off the construction loan, though. That was a relief."
"I'll bet." She was looking at him the way he had once looked at perps in interrogations. "Chris, have you got something on your mind about me?"
"It just seems odd that you would just happen to be here when Allison Manning came sailing in. Could that be a bit more than a coincidence?"
Stone pointed toward the marina. "If you'll go down to the marina office and check their reservations log, you'll find that I booked my charter nearly three months ago, and since you're from New York, you'll know firsthand about the blizzard. If not for that I would now be south of Guadeloupe somewhere with a rum and tonic in one hand and the girl of my dreams in the other." "And who is the girl of your dreams?"
"Her name is Arrington Carter; she's a magazine writer, a freelancer."
"I've met her," Wheaton said. "As a matter of fact, I saw her two nights ago in the company of an actual movie star."