"You are very kind, sir. Ah…" He paused as if unwilling to mention something. "Mr.Barrington, Libby spoke with me before she left, and I was under the very distinct impression that she expected to realize some financial benefit from the estate of her former husband. Are you aware of any such benefit? Even a modest sum would mean the world to Mrs.Peters."

Stone winced. "I am aware that there was no mention of the first Mrs.Manning in Paul Manning's will," he said, "and that the alimony required by his divorce decree had expired."

"Yes, I'm afraid that is correct," Potter said. He sighed deeply. "No bequest, eh?"

"I'm afraid not, but I will raise the subject with Mr.Manning's widow."

"Would you? I would be so very grateful. Mrs.Peters's health is not good, and I'm very much afraid that without her daughter's help she will be unable to afford to stay in her apartment, and I don't know where she would go."

"I'll speak to Mrs.Manning about it," Stone said, "and I'll be in touch with you on my return to New York next week."

"Good. I won't mention this to Mrs.Peters until I hear from you; I wouldn't want to get her hopes up, you know."

"I understand," Stone said.

"One other thing, could you learn the name of the insurance company representing the owners of the airplane? If it crashed because of a mechanical problem, Mrs.Peters might be eligible for a payment from the policy."

Stone was anxious to get off the phone before he was saddled with any other duties. "Yes, yes, I'll inquire about that."

"I'll look forward to hearing from you, then."

"Good-bye, Mr.Potter."

Stone hung up and lay back on the bed. It was worse than he could have imagined, and he didn't know whether Allison would honor her agreement. He went back to work and tried not to think of the old lady at the piano in Palm Beach.

CHAPTER 46

The inquest was held in the same village hall that had been used for the inquest into the death of Paul Manning, the coroner was the same, and the jury was indistinguishable from the first one. The only difference was the absence of Sir Winston Sutherland, who, apparently, could see no political advantage in attending.

Stone and Thomas gave their testimony, and then the mechanic employed by Chester's air taxi service was called and questioned by the coroner.

"State your name," the coroner said.

"Harvey Simpson," the mechanic replied. He was black and appeared to be in his early forties.

"Mr.Simpson, are you a fully qualified aircraft mechanic?"

"Yes sir, I am. I done my training in Miami, and I worked in Fort Lauderdale for eight years before I come home to St.Marks."

"How long had you done mechanical work on Chester Appleton's airplane?"

"For eleven years."

"The same airplane?"

"No, sir; Chester bought this one six years ago."

"Was the airplane in good condition?"

Harvey Simpson straightened in his seat. "Yes sir, it certainly was. I did an annual inspection on the airplane last month; I always kept it right up to snuff."

"What about the port engine?"

"That was the newest of the two. I installed it eight months ago, and it only had five hundred and ten hours on it."

"How long is an engine good for?"

"That one was rated for two thousand hours."

"So Chester had only used a quarter of its expected life?"

"That's right, sir."

"At the time of the annual inspection, did you find anything wrong with the engine?"

Harvey Simpson opened a plastic briefcase and removed a book. "I got the engine logbook right here," he said. "There's a list of what I done to it."

"My question was, did you find anything wrong with the engine?"

Simpson consulted the logbook. "I found two exhaust brackets broken. That's a common fault; vibration weakens the metal. I replaced both brackets. The compression on all the cylinders was in the high normal range; that's a pretty good indicator of the health of the engine. All the airworthiness directives and service bulletins-were up to date on it."

"We have heard testimony that the engine caught can you think of anything that might have caused to happen?"

"No, sir," the man said emphatically. "I did a fifty-hour inspection on the engine three days before the crash-that includes an oil change-and there wasn't nothing wrong with it."

"What, in your opinion, could cause an engine fire that airplane?"

"Leaking fuel would be about the only thing, sir, but I checked all the fuel connections during the fifty-hour inspection and they was all tight."

"Nothing else could have caused the engine fire?"

"Well, a bad exhaust leak, maybe, but there wasn't no exhaust leaks, either."

"So you have no explanation for the engine fire?"

"No, sir, I don't, and believe you me, I've done some considerable thinking on the subject. If I had the engine back and could inspect it, I might be able to tell you what caused the fire, but…"

"Quite," the coroner said. "Does any member of the jury have any questions for Mr.Simpson?"

A tall black man stood up. "I've got a question," he said.

"Go ahead and ask it," the coroner replied.

"Harvey, Alene Sanders, who got killed in that crash, was my wife's sister-in-law. What I want to know is, who's going to pay for killing her?"

Simpson shook his head. "I don't know, Marvin. Chester didn't have nothing but that airplane and his house."

"What about insurance?" the man demanded.

Simpson shook his head again. "Chester stopped paying the insurance last year. Said it was too much, it was going to break him."

The man shook his head and sat down. Stone shook his head, too. That answered Harley Potter's question.

"All right, then," said the coroner, "the jury can retire to consider their verdict. I won't recess for another fifteen minutes, because I don't think it's going to take long."

The jury retired, and everyone stood up to stretch. Stone turned to find Hilary Kramer of the Times and Jim Forrester of The New Yorker in the row behind him.

"What brings you two here?" Stone asked.

"Nothing else to do," Kramer replied.

"Not until your case begins. I'll file a short piece on the crash. You happen to know anything about the Manning woman, Stone?"

"As a matter of fact, I had a call from a lawyer in Palm Beach. She left an elderly mother-no other family."

"No insurance for the mother, either," Kramer said, jotting down some notes. "Got the mother's name?"

"Maria Peters; a widow and retired actress."

"Address?"

"No idea."

"The lawyer?"

"Harley Potter of Potter and Potter." He looked at Forrester. "I don't see you taking any notes, Jim."

Forrester grinned. "I'll clip Hilary's piece; it'll all be in there. It'll be no more than a marginal reference in my piece."

"I guess not," Stone agreed.

"What was Elizabeth Manning doing down here?"

"She wanted to know if she was mentioned in Manning's will. She wasn't."

"I heard you and she were looking over some documents in the Shipwright's Arms," she said. "What were they?"

"Paul Manning's will; she wanted to see it."

"When were they divorced?"

"Something like ten years ago, I think."

"When were they married?"

"I don't really know."

"You're a font of information, aren't you?" Kramer said suspiciously. "Is there something you don't want me know?"

"Hilary," Stone said, "why would I keep information from you?"

She was about to reply, but the jury was returning.

The coroner waited for everyone to be seated, then spoke. "Have you gentlemen reached a verdict? If so, read it."

A man stood up. "We find that Chester Appleton, Alene Sanders, and Elizabeth Allison Manning met their deaths by misadventure," he said, then sat down.