Dead in the Water

“Don’t mention it,” he said.
    They pulled up at the restaurant, and Stone and Allison got out so that Thomas could park the car. An American-looking man was seated at the bar, drinking what looked like a gin and tonic; his suit and briefcase made him look out of place, made him look like an insurance salesman. He seemed to recognize Allison and approached her, handing her a card. “Mrs. Manning, I wonder if I could speak with you for a few minutes.”
    Stone turned to Allison. “If you don’t need me for a moment, I have some phone calls to make.”
    “Go right ahead,” she said to him, then turned to the other man. “Of course,” she said, “let’s take a table.”
    Stone went up to his new room over the bar, threw his newly acquired barrister’s robe at the wall, and called Bill Eggers.
    “Yes, Stone, are we a go for the London man?”
    “I’m afraid not, Bill; it seems I’ve wasted his time and yours.”
    “Why? What happened?”
    “Bill, I hardly know where to begin: I have this perfectly innocent woman for a client who it seems is being railroaded by the judicial system in this godforsaken island country, and unless I can think of something fast they’re going to hang her.”
    “Hang her?”
    “I’m afraid so.” Stone explained the chain of events thus far.
    “That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard,” Eggers said when Stone had finished.
    “I wish I were hearing about it instead of living it,” Stone said.
    “And your barrister is gaga?”
    “At least some of the time; he appeared to be perfectly normal in court, except that he seemed to forget that we were bringing in the London man.”
    “Well, at least he knows the score down there; that’s worth something.”
    “I hope you’re right, but it’s Tuesday, and I’m going to have to be prepared to try this case next Monday morning.”
    “Is there anything else I can do to help?”
    “Not right now; believe me, I’ll call in a hurry if there is.”
    “I’m here if you need me,” Eggers said, then hung up.
    Stone made another call, to Bob Cantor, a retired cop who had been helpful on a previous case.
    “Hello?”
    “Bob, it’s Stone Barrington.”
    “Hi, Stone; aren’t you supposed to be on vacation?”
    “I’d rather not talk about that; I’m in big trouble on a case, and I want you to do some things for me. Can you clear the decks for the next week?”
    “Sure; I’m not all that busy.”
    “Good. The first thing I want you to do is to get on a plane for the Canary Islands.”
    “Where the hell is that?”
    “It’s a Spanish possession a few hundred miles out in the Atlantic, off North Africa.”
    “Back up here, Stone; tell me what’s going on.”
    Stone related the events of the past few days.
    “That’s the craziest thing I ever heard,” Cantor said. “They want to hang her?”
    “That’s right. Now look, their last landfall before St. Marks was the Canaries; they were in Las Palmas, the capital, for some work on the boat, then they stopped on the southernmost island, which is called Puerto Rico, their last night before starting the transatlantic. I want you to go to both places and ask about the yacht, which is called Expansive. ”
    “Got that,” Cantor said, obviously scribbling.
    “Talk to anybody who saw them, talked to them, had a meal with them, saw how they interacted.”
    “What exactly are you looking for?”
    “Straws to grasp at; God knows I’ve got nothing else. See if you can find me a witness who can, from personal experience, characterize the relationship between Paul Manning and his wife during the last few days they were in the Canaries—ideally somebody who can say he saw a lot of them and that they obviously adored each other.”
    “Anything else?”
    “Anything else you can possibly think of. You understand the situation now and something of what I need. If I’m going to get this woman off I’m pretty much going to have to prove that she didn’t do it.”
    “That’s impossible,” Cantor said. “There were no witnesses.”
    “I’m going to have to do it anyway.”
    “What airline goes to the Canaries?”
    “I haven’t the faintest idea; call my secretary and tell her to book it for you, tonight if possible.”
    “Right. Anything else?”
    “Yes, I want you to dig up everything you can on Paul Manning for me—library, Internet, credit report,criminal record, military record, anything you possibly can before you leave for Las Palmas. FedEx it to