Stuart Woods - Dead In The Water

She couldn't be a murderer, he thought; she just couldn't be.

"Are we going over my testimony?"

"Ready when you are."

"Would you like a beer?"

"Sure, why not." She went to the fridge and got them both a cold bottle of Heineken.

Stone remembered that he had a fax in his pocket. He pulled it out, opened the envelope, and unfolded the sheet of paper. He thought it was odd that Thomas had put the fax in an envelope; he had never done that before. He read the letter.

"Stone," Allison said, concern in her voice, "what's wrong? You look awful."

He felt more numb than awful. He handed her the fax.

Stone took the fax from Allison and read it again, slowly this time, letting the words sink in, trying to make some sense of it. He might have seen this coming, he thought, but he hadn't; it was a bigger surprise than he was ready for.

Palm Springs

Dear Stone,

I didn't want to write this letter. When I saw what was happening, I wanted to sit down with you and tell you, face to face. Circumstances prevented that, of course, and I'm sorry.

This letter will have to do.

Vance and I were married yesterday in Needles, Arizona.

We flew there in Vance's air plane, just the two of us, and a justice of the peace performed a simple ceremony, with his wife and daughter as witnesses. Then we flew here, to Palm

Springs, where Vance has a house. We'll spend our honeymoon here, and we hope the press won't discover us.

I can't explain to you how this happened, but it did. I had always liked Vance, and during the time we spent together working on the New Yorker profile, I fell in love with him.

You might wonder how I could so quickly fall in love with another man when you and I have been so close, living together these past months. I wonder, too. I think I was more vulnerable to someone else than I had been willing to admit to myself. Although it wasn't a conscious thought, I think I had come to know that you would have the greatest difficulty making a permanent commitment to me, and I know now that permanence is what I wanted most. I had meant to talk seriously with you about this while we were on the sailing trip to St.Marks, to see if we could work through it. I dreaded bringing it up, hoping for a long time that you would do so.

When you didn't, I planned to make the try.

But fate and the weather were against us, and I have to admit to you that when I couldn't go, I felt relieved. I think that later, if I had thought you were pining away or me, I would have gone, but then you became involved in the Allison

Manning business, and I knew from what I read in the press and saw on television that you had your hands full.

I want children, and Vance does, too; that's a big part of this.

But I'm making it sound logical and carefully planned when, really, it was entirely spontaneous, growing day after day, until it overwhelmed us both. The only flaw in my happiness is that I could not resolve my relationship with you before this happened. I certainly did not wish to cause you pain.

I know you have your own very independent life to live and over the long haul, I know that I couldn't have fit into it without changing the things I loved about you most-your spontaneity, your love of your life, and your singularity as a man.

I hope that you and I can remain friends, and that you can wish Vance and me well. We truly are deliriously happy. After some time has passed, and when we're in New York again, I'll call you, and perhaps we can have lunch and talk about things. Vance was very impressed with you when you met, and he would like to know you better.

I hope this time hasn't been too bad for you and that you get that poor woman off. From what I've heard she is so obviously innocent and those people down there are prosecuting her for their own ends. I know you'll do your very considerable best.

Until I see you again, I remain your good friend and feel nothing but affection and admiration for you.

Arrington

Stone folded the letter and put it into his pocket.

"Are you all right?" Allison asked. "You look as though you've had the wind knocked out of you."

"I suppose I have," Stone replied. "I have to admit, I wasn't expecting this."

Allison sat doWn beside him and took his hand in hers. "I'm sorry you're hurt, but you really should have seen it coming. I did."

Stone looked at her, incredulous. "You did? How could you? You hardly knew anything about it."

"I knew just enough to read the signs. No girl who was really in love would have passed up a week in St.Marks with you, not even for Vance Calder. You're really not very perceptive about women, you know."

"Well, if I didn't know that, I do now," he said, sighing.

She went to the bar and mixed him a rum and tonic, then brought it back to him. "Drink that; you'll feel better in a while." She went into the aft cabin and left him alone in the saloon.

Stone sipped the drink and thought about the last few days. If his letter had reached Arrington in time, would that have mattered? Probably not, he realized. It wouldn't have healed the problems in their relationship. Presently, he did feel better. The defense mechanisms were clicking into place now, and the ego's own anesthesia was numbing the parts of him that hurt most. He took some deep breaths, and something inside him unclenched. Now, he thought, he must bring himself back to the present, because he had a lot to do.

He sat her down across the saloon and told her to get comfortable. "Comfort is the first thing," he said. "I don't want you squirming on the stand. No, don't cross your legs, cross your ankles, and fold your hands together. Comfortable?"

"Fairly."

"Find a position early on and be still. If you have to change, do it slowly and deliberately, and remember not to cross your legs."

"I think I got that part about the legs."

"Good. Now, your attitude is going to be important. When I question you I want you to think hard and tell me exactly the way things happened. I want the jury to see that you're trying to be honest."

"All right."

"When Sir Winston's turn comes, I want you to keep exactly the same demeanor; don't use defensive body language like crossing your arms. Don't be petulant; don't show anger; above all, don't raise your voice. Take his questions very seriously, and try to answer them honestly, unless it appears that he's asking a question merely for effect, a rhetorical question, then you can look disappointed."

"Disappointed, not angry," she repeated.

"All right, are you ready?"

"Ready."

"Mrs.Manning, what was your motive for killing your husband?"

She stared at him, and her eyes grew hard.

"Sorry, I didn't tell you I was going to be Sir Winston, did I?"

"No, you didn't."

"You have to be ready for surprises. He may come right out of left field with something, but you can answer it immediately, because you're relying on the truth, not subterfuge."

She shook her shoulders and tried to relax her body. "Okay, who are you this time?"

"I'm your attorney. Mrs.Manning, did you love your husband?"

Allison looked as if she might weep. "Oh, yes, I loved him."

"Don't overdo it; this isn't a soap opera."

"Isn't it?" she asked archly.

"Mrs.Manning, what reason might you have had to kill your husband?"

"I had no reason whatever," she replied firmly.

"Now you're getting it right," he said.

"Mrs.Manning, how much life insurance did your husband have?"

She frowned and began thinking.

"Don't hesitate, tell the truth. If he asks you such a question, it's because he already knows the answer."

"Aren't you going to have some sort of structure to this questioning?"