"Nothing very earthshaking, I'm afraid. The inquest was held this afternoon, and a verdict of death by misadventure was reached."

"I see."

"I obtained a death certificate from the coroner, and it will go out to you by Federal Express."

"Well, that's a relief," Potter said.

"An employee of the man who owned the airplane gave testimony that the airplane and a house were the man's only possessions, and that he had let his insurance lapse last year. I'm afraid there won't be anything to go after."

"I see. You're certain about this?"

"As certain as I can be without conducting a thorough investigation, and I'm afraid I don't have time to do that."

"That will be very bad news for Mrs.Peters," he said.

"I know it will; I'm sorry."

"Have you had an opportunity to speak with the second Mrs.Manning about…" He let the sentence die.

"Briefly. She won't be giving the matter any thought until her return to Greenwich next week. I expect she want to consult her attorney there. Perhaps you'll hear something then; I'll give her your number."

"Won't you be representing her?"

"No, my work will be finished when I leave here next week."

"I see."

"I will be in touch if any further information comes my way."

"Thank you, Mr.Barrington, for your kindness," Potter said. "Goodbye."

"Good-bye, Mr.Potter," Stone replied, then hung up.

He felt sick his stomach, but there was nothing to else he could do in the circumstances. But yes, there was something he could do, he reflected. He telephoned his something do, bank in New York, spoke to an officer he knew.

"I've got a CD maturing about now, haven't I?"

"Yes, Stone, it matured earlier this week. I sent you a notice, and your secretary called to say you were out of town. You want me to roll it over?"

"No, cash it and deposit it in my trust account."

"I'll take care of it right away."

Stone thanked the man, then hung up and called his secretary at home.

"Hi."

"Hello there."

"Anything happening?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

"Something I'd like you to do."

"Shoot."

"Tomorrow, I want you to write a check for twenty-five thousand dollars on my trust account, made payable to the estate of Elizabeth Allison Manning, and send it to a law firm in Palm Beach." He gave her the address. "Cover it with a letter saying that the money was sent at the direction of Mrs.Allison Manning."

"Pursuant to what?"

Stone thought for a minute. "Just say what I told you; nothing else."

"Okay, but we don't have a lot more than that in the trust account."

"I made a twenty-five-thousand-dollar deposit."

"That CD of yours that came due this week?"

"Right."

"We're going to need to pay some bills the first of the month."

"Woodman and Weld owes us some money; call Bill Eggers and rattle his cage. Tell him we need it right away."

"I'll do it."

"Take care, then."

"When you coming home?"

"Next week; I'll let you know when."

"You going to get that lady off?"

"Jesus, I hope so. If I don't we can kiss that twenty-five grand goodbye." He hung up feeling both better and worse.

CHAPTER 38

Stone finished up his work thirsty, and he headed down to the bar for some-cold. A young man in whites and shoulder boards having a drink, looking bored. Stone sat down a away and ordered a rum and tonic, then he turned young man.

"You the skipper of the yacht that just came in?"

"Yep," he replied, "she's called Race."

"There must be a reason," Stone said. "What sort of speeds will she do?"

"Sixty knots in reasonable seas; seventy in a raging calm."

"Whew! Who builds them?"

"She's a one-off, designed by a guy out of Miami who does racing boats and built at the Huisman yard in Holland."

"What brings you into St.Marks?"

"Picking up a charterer."

"Anybody I know?"

"Beats me; name of Mr.and Mrs.Chapman; they haven't shown up yet. We're supposed to be out of here by midnight. She's being refueled now."

"Where you bound for?"

"Way up the chain of islands; St.Thomas is our first call after we leave here."

"The first U.S. port, huh? That's a long passage. Can I buy you a drink?"

"Thanks, yes."

"Thomas, bring another round to…"

"Sam's my name," the young man said, sticking out a hand.

"I'm Stone."

"First name, or last?"

"First." Stone clinked glasses with the skipper, and they both drank. "Where's this charterer coming from?"

"Beats me. They're supposed to fly in this evening, and we leave as soon as they get here."

"A night passage, huh? They must be in a hurry."

"That's why we're refueling; the boat eats up gas at any kind of speed."

"Can you make it to St.Thomas at speed without refueling?"

"It's at the outer limits of our range, but we can do it with no headwind, and down here the trades will be on our beam. We'll be in the lee of the island chain, so it will only be rough once in a while."

"Where is the boat based?"

"Fort Lauderdale."

"I've got a client wants to sell a yacht up there soon; can you recommend a good broker?"

"Sure," Sam said, taking a card from his shirt pocket. "Crockett and Smith; they handle all our charter work. They're good people."

"So if I wanted to charter Race, I'd get in touch with not you?"

"That's right; we're in constant touch. You really in the market?"

"Maybe next winter," Stone said. "How much red there in that sort of charter?"

"Not much. You'd put down a fifty percent deposit, the rest thirty days in advance."

"That what this guy Chapman did?"

Sam shook his head. "This one was on short notice, he'd have to wire-transfer the money right away. The deal only got made a couple of days ago. We had just dropped off a party in Guadeloupe, so we were nearby. works out really well for us, too, since it will us back to U.S. waters. My next charter is out of Juan, so it's perfect; we don't have to deadhead all way and burn up a lot of the owner's fuel."

"What does she cost, by the week?"

"Fifty-five grand, dry, sixty-five all in, booze and everything."

Stone laughed; "Forget my interest in chartering; that's out of my range."

"Don't feel bad; it's out of just about everybody's

"Think I could get a look at her interior while you're here? I have a client or two who might be interested in chartering."

"Sure thing," Sam replied, tossing down the rest of his drink. "How about right now?"

"Great; let's go."

The two men walked out of the Shipwright's Arms and across the lawn toward the marina.

"What's her length?" Stone asked.

"Sixty-seven feet overall; draws six feet, so we can cruise the Bahamas."

"How many cabins?"

"Four; one big one for the owner, and three pretty good-sized ones. She has a little less volume than most boats her length; that's because of the speed designed into her."

They walked down the pontoon and went up the boarding ladder. Sam led the way, showing off the bridge and the navigational gear, then the saloon, complete with bar and entertainment center, featuring a big-screen television and video library. The owner's cabin was, indeed, luxurious, and the other cabins, although smaller, were equally plush.

"I'm impressed," Stone said as he descended to the pontoon again. He stuck out his hand. "Thanks for the tour, and good luck." He walked back up to the Shipwright's Arms and found Thomas.

"Thomas, I've never seen many airplanes out at the airport besides Chester's; do you get many outside aircraft in here?"

"Not many," Thomas replied. "Chester had the only license to land here any time he liked. Charter services from the other islands have to phone the airport office and get permission to land, usually twenty-four hours in advance. It's nothing but red tape, really."