"Well, shit," she said disgustedly.
"I take your point."
She stood up. "Right now," she said, "I'm going to get into a hot bath, and after I've had some dinner and a good night's sleep I think I might just get a second opinion on what you've told me."
Stone stood up. "If there's anything else I can do…"
"I thought the gist of what you told me was that there's nothing you can do," she said.
"That's pretty much it," he admitted, trying desperately to think of something to say to her that might make her go back to Palm Beach.
"Well, tomorrow's another day, and then I guess I'll see what I can find out about this murder trial. Who's the DA?"
"It's being handled by the, ah, local government," he replied.
"Right. I guess I can talk to them. See you around, Stone." She picked up her purse and headed for the stairs.
Stone went straight to the bar, picked up the phone, and dialed Bob Cantor's number. "Problems?" Thomas asked, ambling over.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Stone replied. He got Cantor's answering machine. "Bob," he said, "you mentioned earlier that Paul Manning had been divorced in Florida. Do whatever you have to do to find a copy of the decree and fax it to me at the earliest possible moment, please. I've got another Allison Manning on my hands." He hung up.
"Another Allison Manning," Thomas repeated, chuckling to himself.
"Thomas, please do whatever you can to keep that woman from ever hearing the name of Sir Winston Sutherland," Stone said.
Thomas laughed aloud. "Right!"
CHAPTER 26
Stone marched over to the marina, jumped aboard Expansive, and went below. The saloon was empty. He went aft to the owner's cabin, and found Allison sound asleep. "Wake up," he said, patting her on the shoulder.
Allison opened her eyes slowly. "Oh, hello," she said, reaching for him.
Stone took her hands in his. "Not now, Allison; we have to talk."
"Talk? What about?"
"Come into the saloon." He handed her a robe and went ahead of her.
She came in, tossing her hair and robbing her eyes."What is going on?" she asked.
"Tell me about Paul's first marriage," he said.
"What?"
"Paul was married before he married you; tell me everything he told you about that."
She took a bottle of mineral water from the fridge, uncapped it, took a long swallow, and settled onto the sofa beside him. "He was married, that's all. It didn't work out."
"When did he get married?"
"When he was a lot younger, in the early eighties, I think."
"How long was he married?"
"Three or four years. What's this all about?"
"Do you know exactly when he was divorced?"
"No, not exactly."
"Have you ever seen a copy of his divorce decree?"
"No."
"Not even when you went to get your marriage license?"
"I don't think so."
"Normally, if you've been married before, you have to produce a divorce decree in order to get a license. Where were you married?"
"In New York, at the courthouse, by a judge."
"You went with Paul to get the license?"
"Yes, but I don't remember anything about a divorce decree."
"Swell."
"Stone, if you don't tell me what this is about…"
"The first Mrs.Manning has just checked into the Shipwright's Arms."
Allison's face fell. "Libby?"
"Yes."
"That bitch!" Allison hissed. "What the hell is she doing here?"
"She says she's come to claim Paul's estate."
"Hah! That's a laugh! She's not getting a penny."
"Allison, let me see Paul's will."
"She's not in it."
"I want to see the will. It's in Paul's briefcase, isn't it?"
"How would you know that?"
"I'm just guessing. Is it in the briefcase?"
"Yes."
"You'd better let me see it right now."
"Oh, all right." She got up, went into the aft cabin, and came back a couple of minutes later with a document. "Here," she said ill-humoredly, handing it to him.
Stone read through it quickly. There were a number of small bequests to organizations-the Author's Guild Fund and PEN-and to two clubs to which Manning had belonged, and the rest was left to Allison. No mention of his first wife.
"See?" Allison said. "I told you he left her nothing."
"Did you know he had been sending her monthly checks?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
"Three thousand dollars a month."
"Alimony?"
"I suppose."
"Was it dictated by a divorce decree?"
"I don't know; Paul called it alimony, though."
"It's not a lot of money for someone in Paul's income bracket."
"Paul didn't make any real money until after they were divorced; he was just a newspaper reporter."
"Let's see, if they were divorced ten years ago do you know if there was any time limit on the payments?"
"No, I don't. Is this really going to be a problem?"
"Maybe;it depends on the decree, if there is one."
"What do you mean, if there is one? There must be one, somewhere."
"I've got somebody looking into that now. Do you know where they were divorced?"
"In Miami, I guess; that's where Paul lived at the time. Stone, what's the worst this could mean?"
"Well, the absolute worst, legally, would be if they were never divorced. In that case, she might have some sort of rights as the wife in either Florida or Connecticut-I'm not familiar with the domestic or estate laws in either. On the, other hand, if they were legally divorced and we can get hold of the decree, it shouldn't be much of a problem. Let's say the judge gave her three thousand a month for life, or until she marries; then she'd be entitled to claim that much from the estate. Or he might have put a time limit on it. It doesn't seem likely that the payments were pegged to his income, since he was paying her only three thousand a month; they would have gone up as he became more successful. Did Paul seem to feel any great obligation to her?"
"Not really. He never complained about writing the checks, though."
"He didn't leave her any money, either."
"Right," Allison said, brightening. "How can she make any claim at all?"
"She can easily enough, if she has a court order, and that's what a decree is. But she's claiming they were never divorced, and if that's true, there wouldn't be a decree."
"Stone, this doesn't sound like the greatest problem in the world. Just tell her to call my lawyer in Greenwich, and if she doesn't like that, then tell her to go fuck herself."
Stone shook his head. "We can't do that."
"Why not?"
"Because she's here, don't you understand?"
"So what?"
"She's a completely unknown quantity. Worst case, suppose Sir Winston gets his hands on her and charms or frightens her? Suppose she turns up at your trial and testifies that Paul told her that he was afraid you were going to murder him?"
"That's ridiculous."
"I did say it's the worst case; people will do strange things when there's a lot of money at stake. The thing is, I don't want her hanging over our heads. She's a loose cannon, and she could turn out to be very dangerous."
Now Allison had grown quiet. "So what do we do?" she asked finally.
"I think we have to get her off the island as quickly as possible."
"Maybe one of Thomas's many brothers could kidnap her or something."
He looked at her sharply. "Don't even joke about that."
She held up her hands. "Sorry. So how do we get her off the island?"
"How much money have you got in your Greenwich bank account?"
"Well, I'm not sure, exactly."
"Allison, this is no time to fuck around. How much?"
"A little over a million dollars."
"In your checking account?"
"Well, it's an interest-bearing account."
"Oh, great."
"Are you suggesting I should pay her a million dollars?"