“Sure, come on into Dick’s study. You want a drink?”
I wouldn’t mind a Scotch.“
Stone poured the drink, and they sat down in the big wing chairs before the fireplace. Stone waited for Caleb to speak.
“I owe you an apology,” Caleb said.
“What for?”
“First of all, for the way I behaved that summer when you were up here.”
“That was a long time ago.” It may have been a long time ago, he reflected, but every time he saw Caleb he felt a flash of anxiety and anger at the way Caleb had treated Dick and him that summer.
“It’s been on my mind. Also, for the way I behaved when you told me about Dick’s will.”
“I know it came from out of the blue,” Stone said. “You had a right to be upset. Caleb, I wish I had some leeway in disbursing the estate, but I just don’t. As I’m sure you’ve noted, Dick’s will was so explicit as not to allow any interpretation.”
“I understand that,” Caleb said, “and I’ll just have to learn to live with it. How did the inquest go? I couldn’t bring myself to be there.”
“You’ve another shock in store, I’m afraid. There’s little doubt in my mind that Dick, Barbara and Esme were all murdered by some unknown person. Dick didn’t kill his family or himself.”
Caleb looked stunned. He took a deep swig from his drink. “Well, that’s both a shock and a relief. I couldn’t imagine that Dick had done that, but I can’t imagine that there’s anyone who’d want them dead, either.”
Stone opened the safe, took out the inquest papers and took Caleb through the procedure, showing him the photographs.
“I see your point,” Caleb said.
“I intend to pursue this,” Stone said. “You’re probably not aware that I spent fourteen years in the New York Police Department, eleven of them as a detective investigating homicides. Dino Bacchetti, who just left, was my partner. He and I agree that this wasn’t a murder/suicide, and the coroner has issued an open verdict.”
“I knew you were a cop, but that was all I knew. I’m glad you’ve got the experience to look into this. I want Dick’s killer caught and punished.”
“I’m going to need your help,” Stone said. “Can you think of anyone, on the island or off, who had any sort of grudge against Dick?”
Caleb looked thoughtful but shook his head. “I can’t. Dick wasn’t the sort of fellow that people had grudges against.”
“That’s my memory of him, too. I’d like you to think about this, and if you come up with anything at all, please call me. I’ll be here for a while, and this is my number in New York, when I go back.” Stone handed him a card.
“I’ll certainly do that,” Caleb said.
“There’s something else, Caleb, and I’m glad to say this is good news.” Stone took the insurance policies from the safe and handed them to him. “Dick took out these policies twelve years ago, leaving a million dollars each to his parents and to you.”
Caleb’s mouth dropped open. “Good God,” he finally managed to say.
“Your parents are dead, aren’t they?”
Caleb nodded. “Both of them.”
“Were you and Dick their heirs?”
“Yes, their only heirs.”
“Then half of their policy will go to you, the other half to the foundation.”
“A million and a half dollars,” Caleb said tonelessly.
Stone took the policies back. “I’ll get in touch with the insurance agent and make the claim, and I’ll have the insurance company send you both checks. You’re well equipped to handle the estate and tax consequences.”
“Yes, I can do that.” Caleb stood up. “Thank you, Stone, for telling me about this.”
“I would have told you sooner, but I found the policies only a few minutes ago.” Stone walked him to the front door. “One more thing: As you’re aware, Dick specified that his ashes be scattered in the harbor here; do you want me to take care of that?”
“I’d like to do it myself,” Caleb said. “It’s the last thing I can do for him.”
“I’ve made arrangements with a funeral parlor in Belfast. I’ll call you when I receive the ashes.”
“Thank you.” Caleb dug into a pocket. “Oh, I expect you’ll want my key to this house. Dick gave it to me when he built it, in case of an emergency, but you’ve got Seth and Mabel Hotchkiss here to deal with any problems.”
Stone took the key. “Thank you, Caleb.” They shook hands, and Stone went back into the house. He looked at the key. There was a tag attached to it, and written on the tag was “Dick’s House, all doors.”
Chapter 9
STONE HAD DINNER alone that evening, watched a movie on satellite television and got to bed late. It was after nine when he woke up the following morning.
He was having breakfast when Seth came into the kitchen. “I thought I might take a drive around the island this morning,” Stone said. “You need the station wagon?”
“I’ve got to go over to Camden to pick up some parts for the washing machine,” Seth said, “but Dick’s other car is in the garage, ready to go. The key is in the bunch I gave you.”
“Thanks,” Stone said, pushing back from the table. He got his sunglasses, walked out of the house and opened the garage door. “Wow,” he said, walking up to the little car. A moment’s inspection revealed it to be an MG TF 1500, the last of the classic series, built in 1954. It was silver, with a red leather interior, beautifully restored. Apparently, Dick Stone had not liked newer cars.
Stone got into the car, switched on the ignition, pressed the starter button, and the engine caught. He let it warm up for a moment, then found reverse and backed out of the garage. A moment later he was wending his way down the road toward Dark Harbor, the wind in his hair and a song in his heart.
He stopped in front of the Dark Harbor Shop, went inside and bought a
Stone took the little car north until he ran out of road, then turned around and went back by a different route, passing the ferry terminal and the golf course. Soon he was back in the village and on the way home. You could see all of Islesboro in under an hour.
As he approached the house he saw another dirt road forking to the left and, just for the hell of it, turned down it. It immediately began to narrow, but there was no place to turn around, so he continued. After a hundred yards he drove through an open gate, then another fifty yards down the road came to an abrupt halt. A large tree trunk, trimmed of its branches, was stretched across the road.
Stone looked around. He was going to have to reverse for a hundred and fifty yards. He had begun to do so, when the gate behind him swung shut. Now he was trapped on the narrow road between the gate and the fallen tree trunk.
He got out of the car and looked around. He was surrounded by thick woods and underbrush, with nobody and no house in sight. He was about to walk to the gate and try to open it when he saw a tiny red flash, and then he looked down at his chest to find a pinpoint of red light dancing around it. Laser gunsight. He hit the ground and crawled behind the car.
“Stand up and keep your hands where I can see you!” a deep voice shouted.
“Are you going to shoot me?” Stone called back.
“Maybe. We’ll see. Now get up.”
Stone sat up and looked over the car. On the other side stood a large, bearlike man somewhere in his sixties, Stone reckoned, with a thick head of salt-and-pepper hair, a large moustache and round, steel-rimmed glasses. He was holding a Sigarms P220 pistol, and the laser sight was still on him.
“I said, ”Stand up,“” the man said.
Stone stood up.
