Dead in the Water

and it will go out to you by Federal Express.”
    “Well, that’s a relief,” Potter said.
    “An employee of the man who owned the airplane gave testimony that the airplane and a house were the man’s only possessions, and that he had let his insurance lapse last year. I’m afraid there won’t be anything to go after.”
    “I see. You’re certain about this?”
    “As certain as I can be without conducting a thorough investigation, and I’m afraid I don’t have time to do that.”
    “That will be very bad news for Mrs. Peters,” he said.
    “I know it will; I’m sorry.”
    “Have you had an opportunity to speak with the second Mrs. Manning about…” He let the sentence die.
    “Briefly. She won’t be giving the matter any thought until her return to Greenwich next week. I expect she will want to consult her attorney there. Perhaps you’ll hear something then; I’ll give her your number.”
    “Won’t you be representing her?”
    “No, my work will be finished when I leave here next week.”
    “I see.”
    “I will be in touch if any further information comes my way.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Barrington, for your kindness,” Potter said. “Good-bye.”
    “Good-bye, Mr. Potter,” Stone replied, then hung up.
    He felt sick to his stomach, but there was nothing else he could do in the circumstances. But yes, there was something he could do, he reflected. He telephoned his bank in New York, spoke to an officer he knew.
    “I’ve got a CD maturing about now, haven’t I?”
    “Yes, Stone, it matured earlier this week. I sent you a notice, and your secretary called to say you were out of town. You want me to roll it over?”
    “No, cash it and deposit it in my trust account.”
    “I’ll take care of it right away.”
    Stone thanked the man, then hung up and called his secretary at home.
    “Hi.”
    “Hello there.”
    “Anything happening?”
    “Nothing I can’t handle.”
    “Something I’d like you to do.”
    “Shoot.”
    “Tomorrow, I want you to write a check for twenty-five thousand dollars on my trust account, made payable to the estate of Elizabeth Allison Manning, and send it to a law firm in Palm Beach.” He gave her the address. “Cover it with a letter saying that the money was sent at the direction of Mrs. Allison Manning.”
    “Pursuant to what?”
    Stone thought for a minute. “Just say what I told you; nothing else.”
    “Okay, but we don’t have a lot more than that in the trust account.”
    “I made a twenty-five-thousand-dollar deposit.”
    “That CD of yours that came due this week?”
    “Right.”
    “We’re going to need to pay some bills the first of the month.”
    “Woodman and Weld owes us some money; call Bill Eggers and rattle his cage. Tell him we need it right away.”
    “I’ll do it.”
    “Take care, then.”
    “When you coming home?”
    “Next week; I’ll let you know when.”
    “You going to get that lady off?”
    “Jesus, I hope so. If I don’t we can kiss that twenty-five grand good-bye.”
    He hung up feeling both better and worse.

Chapter
38
    S tone finished up his work feeling thirsty, and he headed down to the bar for something cold. A young man in whites and shoulder boards was having a drink, looking bored. Stone sat down a stool away and ordered a rum and tonic, then he turned to the young man.
    “You the skipper of the yacht that just came in?”
    “Yep,” he replied, “she’s called Race. ”
    “There must be a reason,” Stone said. “What sort of speeds will she do?”
    “Sixty knots in reasonable seas; seventy in a raging calm.”
    “Whew! Who builds them?”
    “She’s a one-off, designed by a guy out of Miami who does racing boats and built at the Huisman yard in Holland.”
    “What brings you into St. Marks?”
    “Picking up a charterer.”
    “Anybody I know?”
    “Beats me; name of Mr. and Mrs. Chapman; they haven’t shown up yet. We’re supposed to be out of here by midnight. She’s being refueled now.”
    “Where you bound for?”
    “Way up the chain of islands; St. Thomas is our first call after we leave here.”
    “The first U.S. port, huh? That’s a long passage. Can I buy you a drink?”
    “Thanks, yes.”
    “Thomas, bring another round to…”
    “Sam’s my name,” the young man said, sticking out a hand.
    “I’m Stone.”
    “First name, or last?”
    “First.” Stone clinked glasses with the skipper, and they both drank. “Where’s this charterer coming from?”
    “Beats me.