Dead in the Water (11 page)

"Sure."

Stone spoke into the phone. "Bob?"

"Stone? Glad I caught you; I'm coming home tomorrow."

"That was fast; were you able to cover any ground such a short time?"

"You bet; I got into Las Palmas early, so I took a flight to Puerto Rico and spent a couple of then came back to Las Palmas."

"What have you learned?"

"Nothing in Puerto Rico, except they took on fuel nd water and spent one night there; more in Las h."

"Tell me." "They were at the yacht club marina for four or five days, doing odd jobs on the boat and provisioning with fruit and vegetables at the local market. Paul had a drink at the yacht club bar late every afternoon, once or wice with Allison, but apart from the shopping, she kept pretty much to the boat. Boats go in and out of that marina constantly, so I was only able to find one boat still there with people who remembered the Mannings. Apart from their boat, which was big and beautiful, they remembered only a couple of things about them: first, their rub-bet dinghy was stolen, and Manning apparently had trouble finding the replacement he wanted; finally he had it flown in from Barcelona. Second, the Mannings had a terrific fight late on the night before they left Las Palmas/'

"Tell me about the fight," Stone said, lowering his voice and looking around to be sure no one overheard.

"A real knockdown, drag-out domestic dispute. Crockery was thrown, names were called, tears were shed, and the whole thing happened at top volume." "Did you get any direct quotes?"

"No, but it had something to do with sailing--with their route, or something."

Odd, Stone thought, that Allison would argue with Paul about something to do with sailing the boat. "That's all you could find out?"

"That's it. Apparently the couple did all the usual things that the yachties do when they sail in and out of Las Palmas--repairs, food, and like that."

"Funny, a guy showed up here, a journalist, who says he had dinner with them their last night in Las Palmas. Any mention of a third party there during the fight?"

"Nope, no mention. I'm afraid that's all there is here."

"About the dinghy, what was so special about the one he had flown in from Barcelona?"

"I don't know; apparently the guy was real picky about his stuff. There were other dinghies available here--Avons and Zodiacs, mostly, both good brands, one English and one French. He wanted something called a Parker Sportster, an American model, very expensive. It arrived on their last morning. Can you think of anything else I should be doing here?"

"No, I guess not; go on home."

"Soon as I'm back I'll finish up my research into Manning; there wasn't time to do much before I left."

"Do that, and get back to me soonest. It's Thursday, and the trial is on Monday; I'll need the info fast."

"Right; I'll be in touch."

Stone hung up the phone just as Jim Forrester ordered a drink at the bar. "Just the man I wanted to see," he said.

"What's up?"

"You said you had dinner with the Mannings their in Las Palmas, right?"

"Right."

"How late were you with them?"

"I don't know, maybe eleven o'clock."

"Did the Mannings have a fight when you were there?"

"No, not exactly; they did disagree about something, though."

"What was that?"

iBi "it was kind, of crazy, when you consider that Allison apparently didn t usually take much interest in the sailing ' of the boat. We were looking at their route on the chart,

and she wanted to sail a direct course from Puerto Rico to Antigua. Paul pointed out to her that the trade winds blow some distance south of the Canaries, and if they wanted to take advantage of the trades, which everybody does who's crossing in those latitudes, they'd be better off sailing south or southeast from Puerto Rico until they picked up the trades, then turning west with a good breeze at their backs. She couldn't seem to grasp that, for some reason. We'd all had a good deal to drink, of course; maybe she was just spoiling for a fight. You know how married couples can be. Anyway, I was a little uncomfortable, so I said my good-byes and left. They were still arguing about it when I stepped ashore."

"Do you recall anything about Paul having a rubber dinghy flown in from Barcelona?"

"Yeah, I do; somebody had stolen his dinghy, and he wanted a new one, something special. It wasn't available in Las Palmas, so he called somebody in Barcelona and had one sent."

"A Parker Sportster?"

"Beats me." "Did he give any reason for wanting that particular dinghy?" "Not that I can recall. He seemed obsessive about having just the right gear on his boat, I remember that well enough; every item on it seemed to have been chosen with great care." "Was the one that was stolen a Parker Sportster?" "I don't know, I guess so." "Thanks, Jim. Thomas, put Jim's drink on my tab." Forrester grinned. "You think a New Yorker reporter would accept favors from a lawyer in a case he was writing about?" "You bet I do." "You're right," Forrester said, raising his glass to Stone, then taking a big swig. He wandered off to find a lunch table. Stone dialed his office number in New York, and his secretary answered. "Hi, it's Stone," he said. "What's happening?" "Not a hell of a lot," she replied. "Arrington went to L.A." but she said she faxed you about that." "Yeah, she did." "There's a lot of mail, mostly junk and bills; nothing that can't wait until you're back." "Listen, I want you to do something for me." "Shoot." "I want you to call a couple of marine supply houses and see if you can get me some information on a rubber dinghy called Parker Sportster--a brochure or something. Apparently it's a high-end piece of equipment."

"Okay; you want it sent to you?" "Yeah, FedEx it, priority." "Anything else?" "Not right now. Bob Cantor is coming home tomorrow; you can go ahead and reimburse his expenses and pay him for his time; he's always short of money." "Okay." Stone hung up and returned to his table. Allison had arrived and was deep in conversation with Hilary who was taking copious notes. He sat down and listened to the interview, which included most of the questions Wheaton had already asked her, but in more of a chronological order. When they had finished talking, Allison returned to the yacht with Jim Forrester, whose turn it was for an interview. Stone picked at the remains of his lunch. "Hilary, what did you think of Allison?" he asked. "She's a brave little thing, isn't she?" Kramer replied. "If I had been in her shoes, I don't know if I could have done what she did." "I'd like your opinion about something that might help me with the trial." "Sure, go ahead." "Did you find any holes in her story? Anything that was hard to believe?" Kramer shook her head. "Not a thing; she's a transparently honest girl; a jury is bound to see that." "Thanks, I'm glad to have my opinion reinforced," he said. And Chris Wheaton's opinion opposed, he thought.

CHAPTER

The first of the media rush began at midafternoon. Stone watched them ask Thomas where to find Allison Manning and be told of the news conference. As six o'clock approached they were still arriving, and he put back the conference until the following morning at ten, much to the annoyance of those who had arrived early. They were not relying on Chester's small airplane now, but chartering out of San Juan and St. Thomas. Stone spoke to Henry and Arliss and had the guard on the marina doubled.

Allison was nervous; she sat in the saloon of the yacht and drank a martini just mixed by Stone.

"Easy," he said. "You don't want to be hung over in the morning. We only have to do this once, and I'll be there to protect you."

"But there are so many," she said. "I had a look through the binoculars, and there must be thirty of them."

"Yeah, they got together and chartered an old DC-3 in San Juan and packed it. I hear the airplane is making another flight, due in early in the morning."

"Are you sure this is good for us?" she asked.

"It can't be bad," Stone said. "When the authorities get wind of what's happening, I hope to see a change in their attitude." At her insistence he mixed her another martini. "Tell you what, I'll cook for you tonight."

She brightened. "No kidding? I've never had a man cook for me."

"Not once?"

"You forget, I'd been with Paul forever, and he wouldn't so much as make himself a sandwich. Once, when I was sick and couldn't cook, I saw him eat beans straight oat of the can rather than heat them."

"Let's see what you've got in here," Stone said, rummaging through a cabinet. He found some linguine and a couple of cans of minced clams. "Where's the olive oil?"

"Down laelow, under the silverware drawer," she said. "I'll find us a nice chilled white wine." She went to a cooler and produced a bottle.

Stone found some garlic, peeled and chopped it, sauteed it in some olive oil, then drained the clam juice into the skillet, seasoning with salt and pepper. "Any parsley?" he asked, adding some of the white wine. "Only dried; up there in the spice rack."

Fifteen minutes later they were dining on linguine and white clam sauce.

"Excellent," she said.

"Typical bachelor dinner," Stone replied.

"Have you ever been married?"

"Nope." "So you've had a lot of practice at quickie bachelor dinners?" "Oh, I can make a few more elaborate dishes, too, if I have time to plan and shop. I don't do it all that often." "And only early in the relationship, before seduction is assured," she said, grinning. "You are a cynic." She laughed. "Nailed you, huh?" He tried not to smile. "Certainly not." Stone washed the dishes, then stuck his head up through the hatch for a look toward the Shipwright's Arms. The bar was jammed with people, and their raucous laughter reached all the way to the marina. He noticed that two of Henry's policemen stood near the restaurant, ready to stop any journalist who so much as ventured onto the lawn between the bar and the marina. "I think we're safe for the evening," he said, climbing back down the companionway. She met him, tugging at his shirttail. "No safety for you," she said, unzipping his fly.

At ten sharp on Friday morning, Stone, with Allison beside him, began walking across the lawn toward the Shipwright's Arms. Somebody had nailed together a little platform and on it stood a forest of microphones, taped and lashed together, their wires snaking into the crowd of reporters like so many reptiles. There were two ranks of cameras, high and low, and the TV reporters stood by, microphones in hand, for their own llt6

The print journalists stood in clutches or sat the grass, notebooks at the ready, and photographers everywhere. Stone had never faced anything like and he wasn't looking forward to it. The buzz of turned to a shout as he and Allison approached.

"Good morning," he shouted over the crowd, taking sheet of paper from his shirt pocket and waiting for ithe noise to subside. When they were quiet, he spoke.

"My name is Stone Barrington; I am one of the legal team representing Mrs. Allison Manning in the case against her, about which I am sure you have all heard. I will be making a statement, and then I will take questions for thirty minutes. Then Mrs. Manning will make a brief statement and will answer no questions."

There was a roar of outrage from the assembled media.

Stone shouted them down. "I hope you can understand that Mrs. Manning is facing a serious charge in a strange country, and that by answering questions at this stage, she might inadvertently put herself in further jeopardy. I know that none of you would wish to contribute to her difficulties." He began to read his statement, covering events from the time of Allison's arrival in St. Marks, including the coroner's inquest and her questioning by Sir Winston Sutherland. He gave them a brief primer on the workings of the St. Marks criminal justice system, and they listened, rapt and astonished. Finally, he wrapped up his statement and asked for questions, glancing at his watch. "To preserve some sort of order, I will point to a questioner and answer his or her question only. Let's do this one at a time, people." He pointed at a woman television reporter.

"Mr. Barrington, do we understand you to say that in St. Marks, the judge selects the jury, and that the defense may not even question them or object to them?"

"Both the defense and the prosecution may ask the judge to address particular questions to a prospective juror, but the judge will ask the question only if he deems it relevant to the proceedings."

The questions continued, mostly about the legal system and his plans for mounting a defense. When thirty minutes had passed, Stone pulled Allison forward. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, Mrs. Allison Manning will make a statement, and at its end, this press conference will be over. She will take no questions after that, nor will I; I hope that's clearly understood." He turned to Allison and nodded.

Allison stepped forward to the microphones and, with a shy smile, began to speak. "Good morning," she said, and after those words there was complete silence among the reporters. "My name is Allison Manning; I am the widow of Paul Manning, the writer, with whom some of you may be familiar." She recounted their voyage across the Atlantic and their time in England, Spain, the Mediterranean, and the Canaries, then she began her account of their trip back across the Atlantic.

"Ten days out of the Canaries Paul hoisted me to the top of the mast to make a repair." She smiled. "He was too large for me to hoist him." This got a laugh from the crowd. "While I was at the top of the mast I saw Paul dutch his chest and collapse in the cockpit. It took me more than two hours to get myself back down the mast." She pointed at her yacht. "You can see how

tall it is. When I was able to reach him, he was dead. Some hours later I managed to bury him at sea and then began trying to sail the yacht the rest of the way across the Atlantic. Somewhat to my own surprise, I was able to manage it. Then, to my astonishment, after I had saved my own life and reached St. Marks, I found myself charged with my husband's murder. Now I must place my faith in Stone Barrington and Sir Leslie Hewitt, who could not be here today, because he is working on my defense. I thank you all for coming here and hearing my story. I hope we will meet again in happier times." She stepped back from the microphones to a hail of shouted questions.