Dead in the Water (25 page)

"Just you and me."

She looked at her watch. "I wonder if I can still make tomorrow's paper."

"Oh, no you don't," Stone said.

Kramer fell back into her chair. "Oh, shit, I promised, didn't I?"

"You promised. Anyway, it's not your kind of story, is it?"

"No, but it would have been nice for the Chronicle column, which is the nearest thing the Times has to gossip, and nobody would have believed that I could get the beat on the story."

"Leave the Calders in peace," Stone said. "They're holed up, hoping that somebody like you won't find them until they're ready to spring the news themselves."

"Well, that's the last story I expected to get in St.

Marks." She looked up. "Here comes Jim." "Don't mention Arlington to him." "Okay."

Forrester ambled up and sat down, tossing a business card onto the table. "Well, thanks a lot, Stone; you got me into a conversation with a life insurance salesman."

Stone looked at the card. "Frank R. Stendahl, Boston Mutual," he read.

"I barely got away with my shirt You owe me a drink."

Stone waved at Thomas and pointed at Forrester, then made a drinking motion. "So, Jim, you think he's for real?"

"You want his whole story?"

"You bet."

"He's divorced, with two teenage kids; he lives in Massachusettsthat's near Boston--his wife got house and nearly everything else, and he makes the year. I believe that, too: him I was getting a divorce, hoping that would him off the subject of insurance, and he had ten ready why a born-again bachelor would need coverage!" "I owe you two drinks," Stone said. "You owe me dinner," Forrester replied. "Okay, okay; probably not tonight, but before we

"I want to debrief you after the trial anyway; maybe that over dinner." "

Kramer spoke up. "Only if I can be there, too."

Forrester laughed. "It's a good thing you and I

direct competitors."

"Jim," Stone said. "Does Stendahl remind you of

Forrester looked toward the bar. "Remind me Of body?"

"Maybe of Paul Manning, a little?" Forrester looked thoughtful. "Well, they're about I : the same size and build, but apart from that they don't really look alike."

"Even taking the absence of a beard into account?" Forrester shook his head. "Very different in manner i and accent, and not. at all the same face, even without the i beard. What, did you think he might not be dead after all?

"It crossed my mind for a fleeting moment. My life certainly be a lot simpler if Paul Manning walked :in here and sat down at the bar."

"Well, put your mind at rest, pal; I mean, maybe Manning's out there swimming around somewhere, but that ain't him at the bar."

"And you're the only one here who knew him," Stone said, sighing.

"Allison knew him; give her a look at Stendahl and see what she has to say."

Stone shook his head. "I wouldn't put her through that."

Forrester looked sympathetic. "That would solve a lot of problems for you, wouldn't it? I mean, if Stendahl 'were Manning."

"It certainly would," Stone agreed.

Kramer spoke up. "It would get Allison off, but Stendahl would sure be in a lot of trouble."

"Yes, he would," Stone said. "Although I'm not sure what they might charge him with in St. Marks."

Forrester laughed. "It would be funny, wouldn't it? Stendahl/Manning stands up in court and says, "I am the deceased; let my wife go!" I can just see Sir Winston's face."

They all had a good laugh.

CHAPTER

t was their last night. before

"Want to go to dinner at the inn?" Stone asked. She shook her head. "I don't want to be on display.

dinner for you aboard." "Why don't I cook dinner for you instead?."." he

"No, that would have too much of the condemned's about it."

"Come on, I don't want you to worry about the

"I am serene," she said, and she certainly seemed way. "I'd just rather do something normal, like cooking. In fact, I've already thawed a chateaubriand in

"Sounds wonderful. Can I make a Caesar salad? "Oh, all right, but just the salad. There's some romaine lettuce in the supplies Thomas sent down."

SU.ROODS

"And I need fresh eggs, olive oil, garlic, some Dijon mustard, and a can of anchovies."

"All in the galley. I'll get the meat started and make some b6arnaise sauce first. You can make me a martini."

"Pfft! You're a martini!"

She groaned.

"One martini, coming up." Stone mixed the drink, shook it, dropped an olive in, strained the crystal liquid into a large martini glass, and set it on the galley counter.

She sipped it. "Mmmm. Just right."

Stone mixed himself a rum and tonic and watched as she unwrapped the beef, the center of the tenderloin, pounded it to about an inch and a half of thickness with a meat mallet, dusted it liberally with salt and pepper, and laid it on the gas grill. Then she diced some shallots and sauteed them with some tarragon, vinegar, and white wine. While this mixture was reducing she separated half a dozen egg yolks, heated some butter, then put the yolks into the Cuisinart, turned it on, and poured hot butter into the chute. Moments later she had hollandaise, which, when mixed with the reduced shallots and tarragon, became b6arnaise. She dipped a finger into the sauce and held it up for Stone to taste.

"Wow!" Stone said. "You made that look easy."

"It is easy," she replied, turning over the beef. "Now you can make your salad.

Stone rinsed the romaine leaves and left them to drain. He crushed a couple of garlic cloves and some anchovies into the wooden salad bowl, then separated two egg yolks and dropped them into the bowl as well.

he whipped the mixture with a whisk while adding oil until the consistency was perfect. He added a of mustard and a little vinegar, some salt and gave her a fingerful to taste.

"Absolutely perfect," she crowed, hoisting the meat a cutting board and slicing it deftly with a sharp

Stone put the lettuce into the bowl with the dressing tossed it until each leaf was thinly coated, then set on the saloon table alongside the beef.

Allison dug out a bottle of red wine. "You do the she said, holding it out with the corkscrew for

"Opus One, '89," he said, reading the label::""I'm

"It's the best bottle on the boat."

"And it will need decanting. You have a seat." He the wine gently into a decanter, watching for the to creep up the bottle's neck, stopping when it he sat down and poured them both some. ".. Allison raised her glass. "To the best last meal a girl had," she said.

Stone raised his glass. "To the last meal's arriving from now."

She laughed. "I'll drink to that."

They ate hungrily, wolfing down the tender beef taking the marvelous wine in large sips, then served

"I won't have room for dessert," Stone said.

"I'm dessert," she replied. "And you'd better have

They lay together in the aft cabin, kissing and stroking each other tenderly. They both had things to forget, Stone thought--he, Arrington; she, that he might be the last man she'd ever have. There was a moon filtering through the portholes, and in its light, with her fair hair and skin, she was as white as marble. Stone bent over her and his tongue found its way through the soft, blond pubic hair into the warm sweetness beneath. He was gentle, not pressing her, and she ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging and directing him until she shuddered and came quietly.

Then she reversed their positions, taking him into her mouth, caressing him with her tongue and fingers, drawing him to his fullest--teasing, tempting, but never allowing him to climax. Finally, when he was nearly mad, she mounted him and pulled him into a sitting position. They were mouth to mouth, nipple to nipple, he deeply into her. She brought her feet behind him so that she could pull him even farther inside her.

They stayed that way for what seemed like hours, then Allison began moving more rapidly. Stone moved with her, and, locked tightly together, they came noisily, finally toppling over onto the sheets.

"If that has to be my last time," she panted, "I won't have any complaints as to how well it went. I honestly don't think sex can be any better than that."

"You won't get an argument from me," Stone panted back.

They lay in each other's arms for a while, then she surprised him by bounding out of bed. "Come with me!" she cried.

He followed her into the saloon, then up the companionway and into the cockpit, oblivious of the two guards on the dock. She flung herself over the and into English Harbour, with Stone right her, matching her stroke for stroke.

She stopped and treaded water. "Do you think they

I'm making a break for it?" she asked.

"I think they're too astonished to think," Stone laughing.

BThey swam out into the harbor, the moon sparkling

an their wake, then back to the yacht, climbing aboard gain. Then they went back to bed and started over.

CHAPTER

drive to Government House, with Thomas at the wheel, was silent. Stone sat in the front, reading the opening statement he had written, merely for something to occupy his mind. Leslie Hewitt would probably ignore it anyway. He glanced occasionally at Allison, who sat in the backseat, gazing absently out at the St. Marks landscape, seemingly calm and self-possessed. Her hair was pulled back tightly into a bun, at Stone's request, and she wore a mostly blue, floral-printed silk dress. She looked about twenty-one, Stone thought.

They arrived in the official parking lot nearly simultaneously with Sir Leslie Hewitt's ancient Morris Minor station wagon. Everyone got out and shook hands, smiling, attempting good spirits. With Hewitt in the lead they entered the building through the police door and climbed the stairs to the second floor, passing through a corridor to the door used by guards, lawyers, and

To one side was a small robing room, and and Hewitt donned their robes and wigs. Once Stone felt foolish. They entered the courtroom. Stone had forgotten

Allison would have to stand in the dock, several behind the defense table; he would not be able to with her when court was in session. He felt very out of his element. In New York he would have at home in any courtroom and in at least partial

Here he felt like an intruder, and he worked hard at not letting Allison know it.

Spectators were filing into the gallery, which was raised in tiers like a college lecture rooTM or, mt?re aptly, London's Old Bailey. The room was not paneled, simply painted, and the paint had begun to fade and peel.-Stone i saw Frank Stendahl, the insurance salesman, enter and take a front-row seat not far from the dock.

At the front of the room, elevated above the defense was the bench; to the judge's'right witness box, and beyond that, the jury would sit. Stone and Sir Leslie sat down at the defense table. A moment later Sir Winston Sutherland swept into the courtroom, his robes flowing, followed by his assistant.

"Leslie," Stone asked, "did you have an opportunity to study the opening and closing statements I wrote?" "I read them," Hewitt replied.

"There were a number of very important points, particularly in the opening statement, that I thought should be included in your opening."

"I'm aware of that, Stone," Hewitt said, arranging his robe. "Please don't concern yourself with my opening."

Stone sighed and tried to make himself comfortable in the hard wooden chair.

A moment later, the bailiff entered, stood at attention, and cried, "Hear ye, hear ye, all rise for the Lord Cornwall."

All rose, and the judge, resplendent in red robes, his black face contrasting sharply with the whiteness of his long wig, entered and sat down at the bench in a high-backed, ornate leather chair, with a gilded crown set at the top, a remnant of Her Majesty's rule. "Good morning," the judge said.

Hewitt was on his feet. "Your Lordship," he said,

"a small request before we begin."

"Yes, Sir Leslie?"

"We have a long day ahead of us; I wonder if the prisoner might have a chair?"

Stone's stomach lurched at hearing Allison so described.

"Of course, Sir Leslie. The bailiff will provide a chair for the prisoner." The bailiff found a chair and set it in the dock for Allison, who thanked him sweetly, eliciting an unexpected smile.

Stone hoped that was a harbinger of things to come.

"The court will come to order," the judge said. "I will hear from the minister of justice."

Sir Winston stood, cleared his throat, and spoke. "Your Lordship, today we hear the case of the people of St. Marks against the prisoner Allison Manning, on a charge of murder. We are ready for Your Lordship to select the jury." He sat down.

"Call the first juror," the judge said.

"Call the first juror!" the bailiff cried.

A door opened at the rear of the courtroom and a entered. He was elderly and thin and he was wear-a three-piece wool suit that fit him very well. He the first seat in the jury box.

"State your name and occupation," the bailiff said. "I am Charles Kimbrough," the man said. "I am a by trade, and I am recently retired."

"Mr. Kimbrough," the judge said, "are you in good and of sound mind?"

"I believe I am, Your Lordship."

"Are you acquainted with the prisoner or any member-of the court?"

"I am acquainted with Sir Leslie Hewitt and yourself, Your Lordship, as I have made suits for both of you in the past."

"Anyone else?" .,

"I know Sir Winston, though I have never had the pleasure of his custom."

"Yes. Have you heard anything about this case?"

"Oh, yes, Your Lordship," the man said. ".".I have read all about it in the newspapers."

"Have you formed an opinion of the prisoner's guilt or innocence?"

"Well, Your Lordship, I think she might have done it, but then again, she might not have."

"He's okay with me," Stone murmured.

"Keep your seat, Mr. Kimbrough," the judge said. "You're the foreman of this jury."

Kimbrough sat down, and another man was brought in. He was not so finely dressed, but he was clean and neat. He was a bartender at a local hotel, and he was soon seated. He was followed by a taxi driver, an apprentice shoemaker, who could not have been more than twenty, a street vendor, and a white merchant, all of whom were briefly questioned and rapidly seated. "We have a jury," the judge said. "Only six?" Stone asked Hewitt.