“At the invitation of a client who has a Gulfstream Four.”
“You’re a lucky man. Who is the man you sent to see me last week?”
“How do you mean, ‘who’?”
“What’s his real name, for a start.”
“I thought it was Bartholomew.”
“It’s not; I know that much. How did he come to you?”
“A client referred him.”
“Who’s the client?”
“I’m afraid that’s confidential.”
“Where is the client located?”
“In Washington; you can infer what you wish from that.”
“I will. Do you have any idea what Bartholomew really wants?”
“I don’t even know what he
“He told me a cock-and-bull story, and I’m annoyed.”
“I hope you haven’t done anything rash.”
“Like quit?”
“Yes.”
“Not yet, but I’m going to, if he keeps lying to me.”
“Stick it out, Stone. I can’t tell you why you should, but I’d appreciate it.”
“Oh, all right, Bill.”
“Thanks. I’ll remember.” He hung up.
Stone called Dino.
“How you doin’?” Dino asked cheerfully.
“I had a strange weekend.”
“Tell me.”
Stone told him.
“And she inherits the guy’s business?”
“Apparently so. What do you think?”
“You know what I think,” Dino chuckled, “but I have a more suspicious mind than you do.”
“I think I prefer not being suspicious right now.”
“I’ll be willing to bet you hear from Sarah before the day’s out.”
“She’s grieving,” Stone said.
“Yeah, sure. I gotta go; anything else?”
“Nope.”
“She’s going to call you.” Dino hung up.
Stone stood up and stretched, and the phone rang. He picked it up. “Hello?”
“It’s Sarah,” she said.
Chapter 15
SHE SOUNDED PERFECTLY NORMAL—not depressed, not upset, just Sarah.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
“Perfectly all right, thank you.”
“What was the outcome of the inquest?”
“Accidental death,” she replied. “Had you expected another outcome?”
“No, I was sure that would be the verdict.”
“Sir Bernard seemed to think I might have purposely gybed the yacht; is that what you think?”
“No, and I told him so.”
“Did he say to you that I might have done it on purpose?”
“No, and I don’t think he believes that—not from anything he said in our conversation.”
“What about Lance? Does he believe I killed James?”
“Lance doesn’t know anything about sailing; he didn’t really understand what happened. I explained it to him, and he seemed satisfied.”
She was silent for a moment. “There’s something I have to tell you.”
“All right.”
She seemed to be having trouble getting it out. Finally she spoke. “I didn’t intentionally cause James’s death, but I’m not really very sorry he’s dead. Does that sound awful?”
Stone avoided a direct answer. “Please tell me what you mean.”
“I wouldn’t have gone through with it—the marriage, I mean.”
“Then why were you having an engagement party?”
“My parents pressed me, told me I was getting old. I’m thirty-two, for Christ’s sake!”
“Maybe they just want grandchildren.”
“Oh, they do, that’s true. I liked James, but I was never in love with him. They kept saying what a perfect match we were, and I suppose it did look good on paper, at least. I guess we could have made it work, produced the grandchildren, bought a country house, given good dinner parties. But I just didn’t want it.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Stone said, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Have you seen this morning’s papers?”
“No,” Stone said. They had been stuck under his door when he returned to his suite, but he hadn’t even looked at them yet.
“We’re all over them, and the tabloids are hinting that I killed James for his money! Can you imagine?”
“Well, yes, considering . . .”
“We weren’t even married; how could they say I killed him for his money?”
“Well, there is his will.”
“What?”
“His will; he made a will. Surely you’re aware of that.”
“Aware of what? I don’t know anything about a will.”
“Apparently, James recently made a new will, making you the primary beneficiary.”
There was a stunned silence at the other end of the line. “That’s preposterous! Why would he do a thing like that before we’re married?”
“I don’t suppose we’ll ever know,” Stone replied. “But according to Sir Bernard Pickering, that’s what he did.”
“Why is it that everyone knows this but me?”
“I thought you did know it; I don’t know how Pickering found out, unless he prepared the will.”
“Pickering is a barrister; he wouldn’t do wills; a solicitor would have to do that.”
“Who is James’s solicitor?”
“I have no idea . . . Wait a minute, yes I do; I was introduced to him at a party a couple of weeks ago.”
“Do Pickering and the solicitor know each other?”
“I don’t know; I suppose it’s possible.”
“Could they work out of the same law firm?”
“Solicitors and barristers are in different firms.”
