CHAPTER 4
They walked quickly across the lawn to her boat and went down below. "Would you like some lunch?" Allison Manning asked. "I'm going to make a sandwich."
"Thank you, yes," Stone replied.
She went to the galley and began putting together some sandwiches. "Please tell me your name again," she said. "It always takes me a couple of times."
"Stone Barrington. If you'll forgive me, we only have an hour before the inquest resumes, and we should talk quickly."
"All right."
"First of all, let me explain the proceedings. A coroner's inquest is…"
"To make an official determination of the cause of death," she said.
"The cause and the circumstances. In this case, the jury could probably return one of three verdicts: death from natural causes, death by homicide, or an open verdict, which means the jury doesn't feel it has enough evidence to decide how your husband died."
"I understand," she said, handing him a sandwich. "Something to drink?"
"Anything diet," Stone said and accepted a soda.
"What are the consequences of these three possible verdicts?" she asked, then took a big bite of her sandwich.
"If the determination is natural causes, the coroner will give you a death certificate, and you can get on with your life. If it's an open verdict, maybe, but not certainly, the same. But if the verdict is death by homicide, then Sir Winston is going to be very nearly obliged to bring a charge of murder against you."
She gulped down the bite of sandwich. "Murder? I didn't murder Paul!"
"I don't believe you did," Stone said, "but Sir Winston' may have a very different opinion. If you should be charged with murder, your alternatives would be to stand trial or to plead to a lesser charge for a reduced sentence or a suspended sentence, if the circumstances warranted."
"I have no intention of pleading to any charge," she said.
"I understand," Stone replied. "Now we have to talk about what's going to happen when the inquest resumes. My assumption is that Sir Winston has other kinds of evidence to present which might cast you in a bad light. I think that to adequately present your side of this, you need more time and a good local lawyer, so the best thing to do would be to ask for a recess of the inquest until such time as you are ready to present your case."
She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not going to hang around this godforsaken island for days or weeks. I want to get home, get Paul's estate settled, and get on with my life."
"That's certainly understandable," Stone said. "Alternatively, you can allow the inquest to resume on time and present the best case you can in the circumstances and take a chance on the outcome."
"What's your recommendation?"
"I think it's always a mistake to rush the legal process unless you're in a very strong position, and I'm not at all sure you are."
"If I go back to the hearing, will you represent me?"
"Yes, if the coroner will allow it. I'm not licensed to practice in St.Marks, but an inquest is less formal than a trial, and he might do it. But there's Sir Winston to consider, too."
"You asked me if I knew who he was. I don't."
"He's the minister of justice of this island country, and I'm told he aspires to be the next prime minister. If that's true, and if he sees some political advantage in pursuing this, he could be dangerous to your interests."
"I see," she said. She leaned against a galley counter and looked down at her feet, silent. Finally she spoke again. "I want to get this over with and get out of here. I can't believe he could possibly convince a jury that Paul's death was anything other than natural. After all, there were no witnesses; they'd have to take my word, wouldn't they?"
"No, they Wouldn't, not if Sir Winston can present convincing evidence to the contrary. Your husband's diary, for instance."
She waved a hand. "I can explain that; it's no problem."
"I'm glad to hear it," Stone said. "Did the police remove anything else from the yacht besides the logbook and the diary?"
"Not that I'm aware of," she said.
"All right. First, let's talk about the diary, then let's see what else we can dig up that will react to your benefit." He glanced at his watch. "We have forty-five minutes to build our case."
Stone looked at his watch again. Five minutes to go, and he was in the head. "Better hurry," he called out.
"Won't be a minute," her muffled voice called back. Stone took the opportunity to look around the interior of the yacht. It was gorgeous. The maker was Nautor of Finland, and the boat was a Swan, widely held to be the best production yacht in the world, and very close to being custom-built. She had obviously been built with little regard to cost; every piece of equipment aboard was the best that money could buy-the electronics, the sails, even the galley equipment. He reckoned the boat had cost between a million and a half and two million dollars.
She popped out of the head, her makeup redone, her long, blond hair combed. "Okay,let's go," she said.
Stone picked up the docUments she had given him and followed her up the main companionway ladder.
Five minutes later, they were back in the Markstown meeting hall, and Sir Winston Sutherland was resuming his questioning of Allison Manning.
CHAPTER 5
Sir Winston rose to his full height and addressed Allison Manning. This time he was not bothering with charm. "Mrs.Manning," he said, "was your husband a wealthy man?"
"We're well off, I suppose," she replied, looking a bit nonplused. "Paul never really discussed money with me; he took care of that. I mean, on the boat, he tied the knots and spliced the wire and fixed the engine and navigated, and I did what I did at home-I kept house. I'm not a business executive or an entrepreneur or a stockbroker or a lady lawyer or a yachtswoman. I'm a housewife, and that was all I ever did. Paul made the money and invested it and, except for my clothes and the things in the house, he spent it; I hardly gave it a thought. We have a nice house, we drove nice cars, but the only really extravagant thing Paul ever bought was the boat, and I don't even know what it cost."
"I see," Sir Winston said, as if he didn't see at all. "You never give money a thought."
"I think I see what you're getting at," she said. "You're implying that I hit my husband over the head or stabbed him with a kitchen knife and dumped him overboard so I could have his money, right? Well, do you have any idea how big Paul was? He was as big as you!" She seemed to reconsider. "Well, almost as big."
The jury tittered at this. Allison Manning was becoming very assertive now, and it worried Stone a little. He had instructed her not to argue with Sir Winston, not to lose her temper again.
"Well, Mrs. Manning," Sir Winston continued, seeming to regroup, "let me ask you this: what were your husband's toilet arrangements on the yacht?"
She looked at him as if he were a raving lunatic. "What?"
Sir Winston looked flustered for a moment. "Let me rephrase, please. When your husband was on deck, and he felt the need to relieve himself, how did he do it?"
"In the usual way," she replied.
The jury began laughing, but a sharp look from the coroner subdued them. "I mean, Mrs.Manning, did he go below and use the toilet, or like most men on a boat, did he just pass his water into the sea?"
"He stood on the stern of the boat, held onto the backstay with one hand, unzipped his fly with the other, and peed overboard."
"Ah," said Sir Winston, as if he had caught her in some monumental admission. "This large husband of yours made himself vulnerable for just a moment when he urinated. A small shove, even by a small woman, was all it would take, eh?"
She fixed him with a hard stare. "That speculation, Sir whatever-your-name-is, is not worthy of a reply."
Stone sensed his moment; he rose and addressed the coroner. "Pardon me, Your Honor," he said. "My name is Stone Barrington; I am an American attorney, and Mrs.Manning has asked me to represent her in these proceedings. I wonder if I might put a few questions to her?"