“That fast?”
“You need faster? I’ll work on it.”
“What got you so motivated?”
“Have you seen the weather forecast?”
“No.”
“It’s going to be ninety-five in the shade in New York tomorrow. There’ll be a high of seventy-three in Bar Harbor.”
“Say no more. Pick me up at eight AM; wheels up at nine-thirty.”
“Viv’s coming, too.”
“Great, tell her I’m working on a new best friend for her.”
“What about me?”
“You, too.”
“I mean, besides you.”
“Besides me.”
“Tell me about them.”
“I’m going to let you find out about them the same way everybody else does.”
“Who are you bringing?”
“Nobody.”
“That won’t last long.”
“From your lips to God’s ear.”
“See you tomorrow.”
Stone hung up and buzzed Joan. “We’re winging our way north to Maine tomorrow. Wheels up at nine-thirty; tell Faith to get it together.”
“How long will you be there?”
“Remains to be seen.”
“Can I come?”
“Are you kidding?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Somebody’s got to keep this ship afloat.”
Their flight in Stone’s Gulfstream 500 departed on time, with Stone at the controls. An hour later they landed in Rockland, Maine, and taxied to the ramp, where Stone’s Cessna 182 awaited. Luggage was shifted, and Stone turned over the G-500 to his pro pilot, Faith, and her hired copilot for the return trip to Teterboro. The short flight to Islesboro took less than fifteen minutes. As they turned final, for the runway, Stone glanced at the inbound ferry and saw a two-car flatbed truck was along for the ride from Lincolnville to Islesboro, carrying a station wagon and a convertible.
They landed and parked on the ramp there. Seth Hotchkiss, Stone’s caretaker, awaited in the household’s 1938 Ford woodie station wagon. Ten minutes later, they were home.
Stone’s house had a family history, and a sad one. His first cousin Dick Stone and his wife and daughter were murdered there and the crime had been staged to make it look like a murder/suicide. Stone had inherited a lifetime occupancy of Dick’s house, which had been bequeathed to a charity that assisted widows and orphans of CIA officers. Stone subsequently bought the property from the charity. Dick had been promoted to deputy director for operations, or DDO, but never had the opportunity to take office.
The house was a bulwark of personal safety. Built from CIA plans, it was sheathed in steel plating, rather than plywood, then the traditional cedar shingles over that. Still, the Stone family’s murderers had managed entry. Stone knew in his bones that the twin sons of Dick’s brother, Caleb, had committed the deed, though he couldn’t prove it conclusively. The twins later confessed, when caught, of murdering Caleb and his wife, their parents.
They had some lunch, then Stone got up from the table. “I want to go over to the Dark Harbor Shop, get the New York Times, and have a word with Billy Hotchkiss.”
“I’ll come along,” Dino said.
“I’ll have a nap,” Viv said.
Stone and Dino drove over in the little 1954 MG TF 1500 that had been restored by Dick. Billy was at his desk, as usual. “Welcome back,” he said. “You, too, Dino.”
The two men each pulled up a stool. “How much do you know?” Stone asked.
Billy lowered his voice; a customer or two wandered the shop. “I know that the folks from down south are called Henry Lee and Grace Jackson, and that they’re arriving tomorrow afternoon in their own airplane.”
“What kind of airplane?”
Billy consulted his notepad. “A Pilatus, a Swiss single-engine turboprop.”
“Plenty of runway for that. How’s Tracey coming along with the house?”
“I think you know she has a truckload of furniture arriving from New York tomorrow at midday. By then, everything in the house will be in its place, ready to take the furniture. The Jacksons’ two cars were shipped up here and arrived on the ferry half an hour ago — a Mercedes E450 station wagon and an S550 convertible, both with Georgia plates. The convertible is being unloaded at the house, now. The station wagon was left at the airport for their arrival.”
Billy pointed at a passing flatbed truck. “There goes the delivery vehicle, back to the ferry.”
“All very neat,” Stone said.
“That’s Tracey. She’s a good manager.”
“Have you heard anything of the boys or Keegan?”
“The twins arrived yesterday and checked into the inn. I showed them three houses: I think they’re going to buy the best of them, down near the point, for a million and a half, or so. They’ll need to spend another half million, or more, making it comfortable, with their grandmother’s money. They’ve already talked to Hal Rhinehart about a new kitchen. He finished your house only last week, so he’s available.” Rhinehart was the island’s resident cabinetmaker, as his father had been before him.
“Well,” Stone said, “that should be good for the island’s economy.”
“I hope you’re right,” Billy said.
“Has there been any curiosity about the Jacksons?”
“The twins had a few questions. I gave them the party line, in bits and pieces. By the middle of next week, everybody on the island will know everything there is to know about them.”
Stone laughed. “With a little help from you.”
“I do what I can,” Billy said.
13
Stone and Dino got back in the MG. “Let’s go see Ed Rawls,” Stone said.
“And get shot for our trouble?”
Stone pulled over, stopped, and phoned Rawls.
“Speak.”
“It’s Stone. Dino and I are on the island, headed your way, with news.”
“I’ll buy you a drink, if you know something I don’t know,” Rawls said, then hung up.
The giant log that was Rawls’s outer gate rolled away as they approached, then closed behind them. The inner gate, down by the house, opened, too. The view was of Penobscot Bay, and Rawls had a sturdy dock and boathouse, too.
Ed emerged as they pulled up to the porch. “Friend or foe?” he shouted.
“That depends on how good the booze is,” Dino shouted back.
They were escorted into the living room, where Sally, an Englishwoman of Stone’s acquaintance who had become Ed’s live-in companion, was already pouring drinks.
Ed showed them to comfortable chairs. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he said to them.
“The Stone twins arrived on the island yesterday, house hunting. Looks like they’re going to buy that old place down on the point.”
Ed smote his forehead. “Sally, double up on those drinks.” He sat down, while Sally poured. “How did you know that before I did?”
“I got to Billy Hotchkiss first.”
“And I thought he was saving those tidbits for me.”
“That’s what everybody on the island thinks,” Stone replied.
“I think they’re up to no good,” Ed said.
“Everybody knows that, too, we just don’t know what.”
“Should I just kill them now and save us all the anxiety?”
“That’s an outstanding idea,” Stone said, “but I don’t think it’s going to be that easy.”
“Yeah, I heard about all that boxing and Japanese sticks and all. You think they got smarter, too?”
“I think they were always smart.”
“Lance says...” Rawls paused. He was retired CIA. Once he had had a little band of Agency retirees up here, who called themselves “the Old Farts.” Ed was the last of them.
“I’d really like to know what Lance says today,” Stone said. “I know what he thought yesterday.”