“Scarlett O’Hara once asked that question of Rhett Butler, who replied, ‘Scarlett, generally it can. And when it can’t, it can buy some of the most remarkable substitutes.’”
She laughed. “Such as?”
“Such as the yacht we’re currently cruising on,” he replied.
“Is being very rich much different from being a little rich?”
“Being a little rich means not having to worry about making the mortgage payment every month; being very rich means not having a mortgage.”
“So, if you want something big, like a yacht or an airplane or a house, you just write a check?”
“No, Joan writes a check.”
“Someone once said that behind every great fortune is a great crime.”
“Every penny of my fortune was honestly earned by hard work and wise investment. I didn’t earn it, but somebody did.”
“Who?”
“Thereby hangs a tale,” Stone said.
“I’ve got all night.”
“All right, many years ago I met a girl named Arrington Johnston. We saw each other for a time, lived together for a time, and I bought her a ring. We planned a trip to the island of St. Marks, where I intended to propose. But she was a writer, and at the last moment, the New Yorker asked her to write a profile of a movie star who was in town for a few days. I was waiting at the airport for her, it had begun to snow, and when I got her call, I decided to go on to St. Marks and have her join me in a few days.”
“And did she?”
“She did not. She fell in love with the movie star and married him.”
“That was Vance Calder?”
“It was.”
“Who was murdered some years later, wasn’t he?”
“He was.”
“And wasn’t Arrington a suspect?”
“Briefly. Oh, and I forgot to mention that the night before I left for St. Marks I impregnated her. I didn’t know it at the time, but I could count. It was a boy and, of course, Vance thought it was his.
“After Vance’s death, Arrington moved back east, to a house she had built in Virginia, and she was looking for an apartment in New York. We reconnected, so to speak, and were eventually married.
“A few months later we — Arrington, our son, Peter, and his girlfriend — were at the house in Virginia. The kids and I went riding one morning. While we were out, a former lover of hers — the architect of the house — went into the house and, in a burst of extreme jealousy, killed her with a shotgun.”
“I remember all this. I just didn’t make the connections. But what did that have to do with your wealth?”
“Arrington inherited Vance’s wealth at his death, and he had become very wealthy after a fifty-year career and some spectacular successes in L.A. real estate. He left her everything. And when Arrington died, she left most of it to Peter, in a trust, and the rest to me. Voilà.”
“And today, the boy is the film director, Peter Barrington?”
“He is, and I’m very proud of him.”
Captain Todd came into the saloon. “We’re well out, so I’m increasing our speed to twenty knots,” he said. “Okay with you?”
“That’s fine,” Stone replied.
“We’ll be in Nantucket before dawn, and our usual berth will be waiting for us.”
“Very good, Todd. Also, will you disable our locator beacon?”
“Already done, while we were still at Dark Harbor. Nobody can track us, except in daylight.”
“Good,” Stone said. Todd went back to the bridge.
“I’m getting sleepy,” Jamie said, yawning and stretching for effect. “Have you managed to restore your health?”
“I’ll just lie back and allow you to ravage me.”
“I can handle that,” she said, and they went below.
18
Stone awoke to the calls of gulls in the harbor. He got out of bed without waking Jamie, showered, shaved, and went up to the saloon. Ed Rawls was there alone, dining on a buffet breakfast. Stone joined him and snagged a passing crew member. “You may as well wake everybody and announce breakfast before it gets cold.”
“We’ll keep it freshly supplied,” she said, “if you want to let them sleep.”
“It’s already nine o’clock,” Stone said. “Roust them out.” He helped himself to scrambled eggs, sausages, and a Wolferman’s English muffin, then joined Rawls.
“What are your plans for the day?” Ed asked.
“I thought I might catch up on my reading,” Stone said, “or we could take the tender out and do some touring.”
“Don’t do that until I’ve had a look around the village,” Rawls said.
“Okay, we’ll save it for after lunch. Is that enough time for you?”
“Should be.”
“Maybe I’ll come with you,” Stone said. “If you can wait until I’ve finished breakfast.”
“I don’t want to be seen with you,” Rawls said.
“What? Am I such bad company?”
“If they’re here, they’re looking for you — and they probably have a photograph. They don’t know me.”
“As always, Ed, you have a point.”
Rawls stood up and put on a sweatshirt, his sunglasses, and a floppy hat. “There,” he said, “I’m disguised.”
“See you for lunch at one,” Stone said, and Rawls trotted down the gangplank and walked up the pontoon toward the village.
Sleepy people began appearing in the saloon — Sherry and Bob, a few minutes later, Jamie. By the time they had each finished their first cup of coffee, they were fully awake and eating with both hands.
When they had finished, Jamie said, “I think I’ll walk into town and do some window-shopping. Will you join me, Stone?”
“I’d better stay here with Bob and Sherry,” Stone replied. “Ed has pointed out to me that if anybody’s looking for us, they might have a photo of me.”
“But not me?”
“Not yet.” He gave her a credit card. “Get yourself some things. If anybody gives you any grief about the card, have Amex call me.”
“How nice of you,” Jamie said, “but I have my own credit cards.” She handed his back.
“Please yourself,” Stone said. “Call, if you have any problems at all. Ed is around, and I can be there in five minutes.”
Jamie kissed him and went ashore.
Ed Rawls had attended The Farm, as the Agency’s training school was known, more than forty years ago, but he still retained the tradecraft he had learned there. On every block of Main Street, he looked at every face and figure. Before he went into a shop, he stood at the window and checked out the customers — and the reflection in the window of those behind him. He was doing just that at an appealing art gallery when, reflected in the store window, he saw a large SUV stop on the street behind him and two familiar figures get out. He continued to watch them as they began moving downhill, toward the harbor.
Stone was reading when his phone rang. “Hello?”
“It’s Ed. The people I saw in Dark Harbor yesterday are in town, and the bad news is, they were in a car with two other people, so there are at least four to worry about. I’d get your guests below before they turn up there.”
“I’ll do that. Ed, Jamie is in the village. I’ll call her and tell her not to come back to the yacht until we’re clear.”
“Good, I’ll mosey on down there and keep an eye out.”
He hung up.
Stone rang up Jamie.
“Yes?”
“Where are you?”
“In the changing room of the cutest little shop,” she said.
“That’s a good place to be. Stay in the shop until I call you back.” He hung up before she could ask questions, then herded Bob and Sherry below.
Captain Todd came into the saloon. “Where’s everybody?” he asked.
“Jamie and Ed are in town. The others are below, where I’m going, too.”
“Anything wrong?”
“There are some wrong people in town, and they may turn up here.”
“What do they look like?”
“A man and a woman, both hefty in build. The man may have a bandage on his forehead. If they try to come aboard, stop them. If they ask questions, lie to them.”
“Gotcha,” Todd replied. Stone took his book and went below. He stood at one of the ports in his cabin and peered past the curtains at the dock. Sure enough, here came Hurd and Heather.