Stuart Woods - Dead In The Water

"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?"

"No, but you're going to have to let me negotiate something with her."

"How much of a something?"

"Whatever it takes, if we want to get rid of her in a hurry, and we certainly do."

"Do you think we could get rid of her for half a million dollars?"

"I think a reasonable person would accept that, but I have no idea how reasonable she is."

"If she wants more than that I'll shoot her myself," Allison said.

"Goddammit, I told you not to talk like that!" he practically shouted.

"All right, all right, just deal with her. I'll trust you to handle it as you see fit."

"God, I wish I had that decree," Stone said.

"But you don't; just do the best you can."

"Give me your checkbook," Stone said.

She found her handbag, dug out the checkbook, and handed it to Stone.

He ripped out a check. "Sign it," he said.

"A blank check? Are you nuts?"

"Sign it."

Allison signed the check.

Stone ripped it out and tucked it into a pocket. "Now find two blank pieces of paper, and sign them."

She went to the chart table, found some paper, signed two sheets, and handed them over."You see how I trust you," she said.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he said, and left the yacht.

Stone strode toward the Shipwright's Arms. Dusk was falling, and the first customers were arriving for dinner. He looked around, saw no sign of the other Mrs.Manning, then went to the bar. "Give me a rum and tonic, Thomas," he said.

Thomas complied. "Seems like you got something of a mess on your hands," he said.

"Tell me about it. Will you ring Mrs.Manning's room, please?"

"She left orders not to be disturbed."

"Disturb her."

"Stone," Thomas said gently, "if you're going to handle this lady, don't you think you'd better do it gently?"

Stone took a deep breath and exhaled. "You're right," he said. "I'll wait for the lady to make her appearance for dinner." He picked up his drink. "I'm going upstairs for a few minutes; if she shows up tell her I'd like it if she'd join me for dinner."

"I'll tell her."

Stone went up to his room, switched on his computer, and began to type. When he had finished he printed out the document on the blank page over Allison's signature, slipped it into an envelope, and started to leave. Then he stopped, picked up the phone, and dialed Bob Cantor's number again, and once more got his answering machine. He swore and slammed down the phone, then composed himself and went downstairs.

Libby Manning was sitting at the bar, sipping a martini; he wondered if she were a drunk. If so, he'd better get moving. "Good evening," he said to her, managing a smile.

"Good evening," she said. "I accept your invitation to dinner."

"I'm glad," he replied. "Thomas, may we have a table?"

"Right this way," Thomas said, picking up a pair of menus.

"Something quiet," Stone whispered as he passed.

Thomas showed them to a corner table with a view of the harbor, then he brought Libby Manning another martini and Stone a rum and tonic.

She raised her glass. "Better days," she said, smiling.

"I'll drink to that," Stone said, sipping his drink. "So, Libby, tell me something about yourself. Are you a Florida girl?"

"Born and bred," she said. "Went to Dade County High and the University of Miami, majored in journalism went to work for the Herald. How about you?"

"Born and bred in New York, NYU law school, a time with the NYPD, then retirement and the practice of law."

"What kind of law?"

"Whatever comes along."

"I thought most lawyers specialized these days."

"Most do. Whatever my clients need done, I specialize in."

"And how did the lovely Allison come to hire you?"

"Well, when she sailed in alone on that boat, I was the only game in town, I guess."

"Were the papers right? Is she going to hang?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Can you help it?"

"That remains to be seen."

"The trial is next week?"

"That's right."

"And if they hang her, it'll be pretty quick, will it?"

"Libby, you are a pessimist." Or maybe an optimist, he thought to himself. "Let's order." They chatted idly until their food came, and ate mostly in silence. She was waiting for him to make the first move, he reckoned. Then, as they ate, another couple was shown to a table a few yards away. Stone looked up and gulped.