Dead in the Water

licensed to practice in St. Marks, but an inquest is less formal than a trial, and he might do it. But there’s Sir Winston to consider, too.”
    “You asked me if I knew who he was. I don’t.”
    “He’s the minister of justice of this island country, and I’m told he aspires to be the next prime minister. If that’s true, and if he sees some political advantage in pursuing this, he could be dangerous to your interests.”
    “I see,” she said. She leaned against a galley counter and looked down at her feet, silent. Finally she spoke again. “I want to get this over with and get out of here. I can’t believe he could possibly convince a jury that Paul’s death was anything other than natural. After all, there were no witnesses; they’d have to take my word, wouldn’t they?”
    “No, they wouldn’t, not if Sir Winston can presentconvincing evidence to the contrary. Your husband’s diary, for instance.”
    She waved a hand. “I can explain that; it’s no problem.”
    “I’m glad to hear it,” Stone said. “Did the police remove anything else from the yacht besides the logbook and the diary?”
    “Not that I’m aware of,” she said.
    “All right. First, let’s talk about the diary, then let’s see what else we can dig up that will react to your benefit.” He glanced at his watch. “We have forty-five minutes to build our case.”
     
    Stone looked at his watch again. Five minutes to go, and she was in the head. “Better hurry,” he called out.
    “Won’t be a minute,” her muffled voice called back.
    Stone took the opportunity to look around the interior of the yacht. It was gorgeous. The maker was Nautor of Finland, and the boat was a Swan, widely held to be the best production yacht in the world, and very close to being custom-built. She had obviously been built with little regard to cost; every piece of equipment aboard was the best that money could buy—the electronics, the sails, even the galley equipment. He reckoned the boat had cost between a million and a half and two million dollars.
    She popped out of the head, her makeup redone, her long, blond hair combed. “Okay, let’s go,” she said.
    Stone picked up the documents she had given him and followed her up the main companionway ladder.
    Five minutes later, they were back in the Markstown meeting hall, and Sir Winston Sutherland was resuming his questioning of Allison Manning.

Chapter
5
    S ir Winston rose to his full height and addressed Allison Manning. This time he was not bothering with charm. “Mrs. Manning,” he said, “was your husband a wealthy man?”
    “We’re well off, I suppose,” she replied, looking a bit nonplused. “Paul never really discussed money with me; he took care of that. I mean, on the boat, he tied the knots and spliced the wire and fixed the engine and navigated, and I did what I did at home—I kept house. I’m not a business executive or an entrepreneur or a stockbroker or a lady lawyer or a yachtswoman. I’m a housewife, and that was all I ever did. Paul made the money and invested it and, except for my clothes and the things in the house, he spent it; I hardly gave it a thought. We have a nice house, we drove nice cars, but the only really extravagant thing Paul ever bought was the boat, and I don’t even know what it cost.”
    “I see,” Sir Winston said, as if he didn’t see at all. “You never give money a thought.”
    “I think I see what you’re getting at,” she said. “You’re implying that I hit my husband over the head or stabbed him with a kitchen knife and dumped him overboard so I could have his money, right? Well, do you have any idea how big Paul was? He was as big as you!” She seemed to reconsider. “Well, almost as big.”
    The jury tittered at this. Allison Manning was becoming very assertive now, and it worried Stone a little. He had instructed her not to argue with Sir Winston, not to lose her temper again.
    “Well, Mrs. Manning,” Sir Winston continued, seeming to regroup, “let me ask you this: what were your husband’s toilet arrangements on the yacht?”
    She looked at him as if he were a raving lunatic. “What?”
    Sir Winston looked flustered for a moment. “Let me rephrase, please. When your husband was on deck, and he felt the need to relieve himself, how did he do it?”
    “In the usual way,” she replied.
    The jury began laughing, but a sharp look from the coroner subdued them.
    “I mean, Mrs. Manning, did he go below and use the