Allison turned to Stone. "You know, sometimes I think he's not entirely all there."
Stone certainly could not disagree with her. "What did you two talk about while I was shopping for milk?"
"I told you," she said. "Gardening."
CHAPTER
tone was having lunch alone at the Shipwright's Arms when Thomas called him to the phone. "It's Bob Cantor," he said, moving the receiver down to the end of the bar, away from where Hilary Kramer was sitting.
"Hello, Bob," Stone said into the instrument. "You back from the Canaries?"
"I'm home again," CantOr replied, "and a little worse for the wear. The jet lag will kill you."
"I sympathize. You got something new from the Canaries?"
"Nothing at all. I have got something new from here, though."
"Shoot."
"You remember I told you I checked out Paul Manning's credit record?"
"I do, and he had a pretty good one, as I recall paid eye. thing on time." "That's right, but I had that infomation only from a phone call from a friend at my bank. Now I have the printed report, and it shows a lot more." "Like what?" "Seems Mr. Manning was living right on the edge. He was pulling in a magnificent income, of course, probably something between a million and two million a year, and closer to two. But he was spending one hell of a lot of money, too." "That's very interesting," Stone said. "It gets more interesting. The credit report shows that he was pretty maxed out on all his credit cards and that he was borrowing heavily to make it from paycheck to paycheck." "Writers don't get paychecks, do they? They get royalty checks." "Okay, okay, he got paid in widely separated lumps, but they were big lumps. My point is, his credit record shows that he was borrowing heavily from three banks, usually a hundred thousand bucks at a time, then repaying it when his royalty or advance check came." "Was he keeping up?" "Just barely. I, ah, did a little unauthorized snooping last night." "What do you mean?" "I drove up to Greenwich, got into his house, and had a look through his financial records, which his secretary had neatly filed away." "Bob, you should check with me before you do things like that."
"If I had checked with you, you wouldn't have let ; do it."
"You're right about that. So what did you find out?" "When he got a check he would pay off the three banks, and there would be only a few thousand left, not enough to get him to the next publisher's payment. Right before he set off on the transatlantic voyage, he two checks at once from two contracts, and that squared him for a while. But he borrowed while he was away, and now the banks are lined up, waiting for the will to be probated."
"Well, I guess that's going to cut into Allison's insurance money."
"I wouldn't worry about that," Cantor came back. "Manning had twelve million bucks in life insurance."
"Twelve million bucks? Nobody has that much insurance."
"You'd be surprised how many people do. He was paying something like fifteen thousand bucks a month in premiums, which is one of the reasons, along with his lifestyle, that he was having to go to the banks to get by. And get this, he also had mortgage life insurance to cover both the house and the boat loans. When Allison pays all the outstanding bills, she's going to have at least eleven million bucks in cash, tax free, plus the house, the boat, the cars--everything--ee and clear. Her biggest expense is going to be property taxes, and she won't have those long, because she's already put the Greenwich property on the market. I told you I have a buddy up there in the property business."
"Have you seen the New York Times piece on Allison's plight down here?"
"Yep, and you can be sure that the insurance company has seen it, too."
"That means they won't pay unless she's acquitted." "Wrong; they've already paid. They'd have to sue her to get it back, and they'll have a very hard time doing that."
"Why?"
"Because she's already transferred nearly the whole amount to an account in the Cayman Islands. I found the receipt for the wire transfer."
"Holy shit!" Stone breathed. "Either Allison has some very sharp advice from her lawyer and accountant, or I've underestimated her by a long shot. I've never even seen her so much as make a phone call from down here."
"Well, somebody is, shall we say, acting in her best interests."
"Somebody sure is, and it isn't me."
"Bottom line is, Mrs. Manning's husband could not have kicked off at a better time for her. If Manning had lived and had continued to live as he did, I reckon he wouldn't have been able to afford the life insurance premiums much longer."
"How long had he had the insurance?"
"A little over two years, and if the company had known he was going to sail, two-handed, across the Atlantic twice, he never would have gotten it. Insurance companies frown on that sort of sporting activity."
"I guess not. This information certainly puts a whole new complexion on things, doesn't it?"
"I would say so. I mean, if you were still a cop, you'd now suspect Allison Manning of helping her husband overboard, wouldn't you?"
"That's one theory. ""The other theory which suggests itself has to do with the very special dinghy Paul Manning had air freighted to him in Las Palmas." "Right. I got the brochure on the Parker Sportster today. It sails." "Could it have sailed Manning back to the Canaries from where Allison says they were when he died?" "Yes, but it wouldn't have had to; Manning could have left the yacht as soon as they were out of sight of land." "Aha!" "Except for one thing." "What's that?" "The Parker Sportster is still on the yacht." "Could he have had another dinghy?" "He did have, but it wasn't sail able and anyway, that one is still on the yacht, too."
"So it looks as though Manning, when he left the yacht, was either dead or swimming."
"Looks that way."
"Could he have swum back?"
"I think we can discount that possibility; he might have been spotted near shore in the daytime and there are sharks out there; I don't think he would have tried it at night."
"Another boat might have spotted him sailing a dingy, too."
"Not if he sailed at night. That's what I would have done in his shoes, but of course, the point is moot,
because the dinghy is still on the yacht."
"Well, pal, good luck with sorting this one out."
STU.T WOODS
"I don't have to sort it out, thank God. All I have to do is think about getting Allison Manning acquitted. I'm not the cops."
"Good point. I'll call you if I find out anything new."
"Thanks, Bob. Take care." He hung up.
"I'm not the cops," Stone repeated to himself. "I'm her lawyer, and if she's guilty, She won't be the first guilty client I've represented." Still, he wanted her to be innocent.
CHAPTER
j tone hung up the phone and returned to his lunch. He wasn't the cops, granted, but he was still bothered by what he was hearing about Paul Manning's affairs. He was about finished with lunch when Jim Forrester pulled up a chair.
"Mind if I join you?" the New Yorker reporter asked, settling his lanky frame and waving to Thomas for a drink.
"Not at all. I wondered what had happened to you; I was afraid my star witness had gotten shipped out with the other reporters."
Forrester shook his head. "Nope. I ducked into the men's room when I saw the cops, and they missed me. My luggage went, though; I've been shopping for the necessities."
"Good; can we talk about your testimony?" "Sure."
"I don't see any need to rehearse, but I do want to be reassured that you're willing to testify that, on the occasion you met them, they were happy together, affectionate, and glad to be in each other's company." "No problem with that." "I think we'll skip the argument they had about their routing later in the evening; it doesn't seem germane." "I think you're right; I've been married, so I know how those little spats can arise over nothing." "Yeah," Stone replied, as if he knew what the reporter was talking about. It occurred to him that he and Arrington had never had that sort of spat in their time together. He hadn't heard from her since she had arrived in L.A." and he wondered how she was. "Let's see," Stone said, "you first met Paul Manning in the bar at the yacht club in Las Palmas?" "Well, no; I had met him earlier, much earlier." "You didn't mention that," Stone said. "Well, it was a long time ago. I went to Syracuse University, and Paul went to Cornell at the same time. The towns are not far apart, and we had an inter fraternity basketball league. I played against Paul two or three times. I just knew him to speak to, though; at the time, I don't think we ever had a conversation that didn't involve who fouled who." "I guess we can use that; it gives you some sort of history with Paul, however slim. What were your impressions of him in those days?" "Pretty much the same as in Las Palmas: cheerful, outgoing, good company." "Not the sort who might commit suicide?" "No, absolutely not. In Las Palmas he was enthusi about getting back across the Atlantic; said he had I idea for a new novel based on their trip, and he was to get started on it."
"That we can use," Stone said. "He apparently kept notes in a leather-bound book; did he mention at all?"
"He said he had made a lot of notes; he didn't say about a leather-bound book."
"That will be helpful, nevertheless. Sir Winston is
Paul's notes as complaints about Allison; it's the most damning evidence he has."
"Look, I don't want to get you into some sort of eth-quandary here, but if you want me to mention the rebound book, I'll be glad to do it. It's not as the other side is playing anything like what we would call fair."
"I think it's best to play this straight," Stone said.
difference in the effect of your testimony would be small, and anytime you start deviating from the straight and narrow, you open yourself up to getting caught lying. I wouldn't want to end up with a perjury charge against you."
"Neither would I," Forrester said. "God knows what the penalty for perjury is on this island."
"Can you think of anything else during your evening with the Mannings that might help us at the trial?"
Forrester looked uncomfortable. "Can we talk off the record for a minute?"
"Sure."
"I certainly don't want to bring this up at the trial, but it's the kind of thing that I can't ignore when I come to write my piece."
SIJART WOODS
"You remember we talked about this dinghy that Paul had flown in from Barcelona?" "Yes, the Parker Sportster." "I didn't mention this before, but that dinghy can be sailed. I read something in a magazine about somebody sailing one from Norway to Iceland." "I'm aware of the dinghy's sailing capability." "Does that suggest anything to you?" "What does it suggest to you?" "That Paul Manning could have conceivably sailed the thing back to the Canaries and faked his own death, for whatever reason." "That occurred to me, but it's not possible." "Why not?" "Because the Parker Sportster is still in a cockpit locker of Expansive. I found it there, unused." Forrester took a deep breath and let it out. "Boy, am I glad to hear that. I didn't want to think that Allison could be mixed up in something like that, but..." "I understand. While we certainly won't bring this up at the trial, I think it might be very helpful to Allison if you mentioned it in your piece. There will always be people who would think the worst, and it might help her." "I'll certainly do that. It's the kind of detail that will make the piece more interesting. By the way, I talked with my editor, Charles McGrath, and in light of all the publicity Allison's story has gotten, they're more interested than ever in the piece." "I'm glad for you." "You should be glad for Allison, too; this kind of
detailed piece will satisfy the curiosity of a lot of
I know it's going to be tough for her when all 'this is over."
"I know it is, though I haven't talked about it with her yet. I think she's got enough on her mind at the moment."
"I'm sure she has."
"Have you talked with her at length yet?"
"Twice. She's remarkably open and forthcoming; sometimes I think she doesn't really have a grasp of what she's facing."
"I know what you mean," Stone said, "and I don't see how it would help to make her more aware. She's been told all the facts and the risks, and if she chooses to be in denial, then who's to say she shouldn't be? Certainly not I. If her attitude helps her get through this, that's fine with me."
"Let me ask you something for the record, Stone, and I'd appreciate the frankest answer you can give me. Your answer won't'appear until well after the trial, and I'll hold it in confidence until then."
"What would you like to know?"
"Right now, at this moment, what do you estimate her chances are of getting out of this?"
Stone sighed. "I don't really know how to answer that. There are so many variables here, most of which I have no control over, that the situation is entirely unpredictable."
"Do you think there's really a chance she could hang?"
"Yes, I do."
"No kidding, really?"
"Really." "Jesus Christ." "Yes."
"It just doesn't seem possible that this sort of thing could happen in this day and age. I mean, if she'd fetched up in the United States, she'd be walking around scot free, wouldn't she?"
"I believe she would. I don't think a prosecutor could get past a preliminary hearing in the United States. I'd blow him out of the water. With Paul's medical records, his note-taking habits, your testimony, and above all, with Allison's testimony, I don't think any judge would buy a murder charge for a minute. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if she'd fetched up in Antigua or Guadeloupe."
"I wonder, too."
The two men sat silently, each contemplating the worst for Allison Manning.
CHAPTER
k tone sat talking with Jim As they chatted he saw a taxi pull up outside and a woman get out. She seemed middle-aged, was tall and fashionably thin, and was wearing a wrinkled silk dress and a straw sun hat. The driver got two suitcases out of the trunk, took some money from her, and drove away. Thomas Hardy saw her, too, and went out to help with her bags.