From a rear corner of the room came Ed Rawls’s distinctive voice. Stone had not seen him there. “At yesterday’s meeting somebody expressed some curiosity about Stone Barrington’s role or interest in all of this. Maybe Stone would like to address that now.”
Sergeant Young turned toward Stone. “Mr. Barrington?”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Stone said. “Dick was my first cousin, my mother and his father being brother and sister. On the day that Dick and his family were murdered, I was in New York City. I didn’t learn of their deaths until the following evening, when a colleague of Dick’s told me the news.”
“I should say that we’ve verified Mr. Barrington’s whereabouts at the time of the murders,” Young said.
“I want to tell you all I know,” Stone said. “Shortly before Dick’s death I received a package from him containing a letter hiring me as his attorney and naming me as his executor, as well as an envelope to be opened in the event of his death. When I opened the envelope, after being informed that he had died, I found a properly executed will, and since I am under no obligation to keep its contents confidential, I will tell you what his bequests were. Dick left the use of his house to me and my heirs in perpetuity; if I choose to sell the house, the proceeds would revert to his estate.” He thought it better not to mention the exclusion of Caleb and his family from ownership of the house. “There were a number of personal bequests to friends and relatives on Barbara’s side of the family, and the residue of the estate was left to a charitable foundation. Additionally, there were two large insurance policies in the estate: Three-quarters of their combined value went to Caleb Stone, and the other quarter to the foundation.”
“Why did Dick leave his house to you?” somebody asked.
“Quite frankly, I don’t know, and Dick offered no explanation in his letter to me. I had seen him only once, for dinner, about eight years ago, since the summer I spent on this island when we were both eighteen. Dick said he planned to see me on his next trip to New York, when he might have explained things more fully, but, of course, that trip never took place.” Stone looked around. “Does anyone have any other questions?” Apparently, there were none.
Sergeant Young spoke up again. “I should tell you, if you don’t already know, that Mr. Barrington spent fourteen years with the New York City Police Department, many of them as a homicide detective, and he has been very helpful to me in my investigation. Any other questions?” No one spoke. “Then, unless the commodore has something else, that concludes this meeting. I’ll be seeing you soon.”
The crowd broke up, and people moved into the parking lot to collect their children and their cars. Stone shook a few hands, then started back toward his house.
Ed Rawls caught up with him. “That was good,” he said. “You’ve nipped a lot of rumors in the bud.”
“I hope so. By the way, Lance Cabot found out who Don Brown wanted checked for criminal records.”
“Who?”
“The Stone boys, Eben and Enos.”
“And?”
“They were squeaky clean, both in Boston and New Haven, where they’re in college. The boys got an especially good report from the Yale campus police. So it’s a dead end.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Rawls said, “but how come Don ran the check on them? He must have had a reason.”
“I suppose he did,” Stone said, “but there’s no way to know what it was.” He looked at Rawls closely. “Ed, you seem depressed.”
“I’m not depressed,” Rawls said. “I’m angry, angry at what was done to these murdered people, all of whom were friends of mine. If I met the man who did this face to face, I’m not sure I could account for my actions.”
“I understand your feelings,” Stone said, “but what Sergeant Young had to say about firearms was important. If you take a shot at someone the consequences could be worse for you than for your victim. I’ve seen this happen before: Some citizen fires a weapon at a supposed criminal, kills or wounds him, then he has to deal with criminal charges, followed by a lawsuit. Believe me, it’s not a position you’d want to put yourself in.”
“I hear you,” Rawls said. “See you later.” He turned and walked back toward the yacht club parking lot.
Stone hoped to God Rawls had truly heard him.
Chapter 34
STONE TOOK HOLLY TO the Dark Harbor Inn that night for dinner. He wanted to wipe away all the tension surrounding the murders on the island, if only for the evening.
“So, how is the new job working out?” he asked.
She took a sip of her wine. “Without getting too specific, very well.”
“Do you like working with Lance?”
“I do. He can be autocratic at times, but that’s to be expected, given the position he’s in.”
“Which is?”
“Let’s just say that he has a lot of responsibility. But most of the time, he’s open to the ideas of others, and he’s inclined to delegate responsibility among those he trusts, and that seems to include me. I’m lucky, in that being pretty new on this job, I’m getting a lot more responsibility than I would if I had come out of training and started work at Langley.”
“From what I hear Lance is held in high regard at the Agency, and that should rub off on you.”
“That would be nice.”
They ate silently for a moment, then Holly spoke up again. “Arrington was up here for a visit, wasn’t she?”
“Well, yes.”
“Not a very long one, though. What happened?"
“She was upset about the murders: Janey Harris’s body was found while she was here.”
“Is that all?”
“Well, she and I pretty much agreed that there’s no permanent relationship in store for us.”
Holly smiled. “That’s awfully nice to hear. I’d hate to think that I’m up here only as an investigator.”
“Don’t worry, you’re not.” He poured her some more wine.
“I got a little worried when you let Seth put our luggage in different rooms.”
“I was just catering to Seth’s sensibilities; I didn’t want to shock him.”
“Can Seth hear what goes on in the house?”
“No, his place is well out of earshot.”
“That’s good,” Holly said. “I wouldn’t want him to hear your pitiful cries tonight.”
Stone laughed. “If it makes you feel any better, Seth and his wife are on the mainland tonight. They went to dinner at her sister’s house in Rockland, and the last ferry is at seven p.m., so they’re staying the night. We can lock down the house and not worry about being disturbed.”
“The best of all possible worlds,” Holly said.
THEY WERE DRIVING HOME when Stone’s cell phone vibrated. “Hello?”
“It’s Ed Rawls.”
“What’s up, Ed?”
“I thought you ought to know that Janey’s mother just told me her daughter’s diary disappeared.”
“When?”
“She can’t be sure, but since her death. She saw her in her room writing in it the afternoon before the evening she disappeared.”
“Could she have had it in a pocket or purse?”
“I asked about that: It was big, about eight by ten, so probably not. Her mother thinks someone came into the house, searched her room and stole it.”
“So whatever Janey might have told Don Brown might have been in her diary?”
“Right. Do you know if Esme had a diary?”
“As a matter of fact, I do and I’ve got it in a safe place.”
“Have you read it?”
“No, but in light of the theft of Janey’s diary I’m going to read it tonight.”
“Let me know if there’s anything relevant in it, will you?”
“I’ll call you in the morning.” Stone hung up.