Stuart Woods - Dark Harbor

“Do you have any motive for any of these murders?” somebody asked.

“All we have now is supposition. If any of you has any reason to believe that any person had a motive in any of these killings, please see me after the meeting. That could be crucial information. There’s something else I want to talk to all of you about.” He looked around the room. “I’m aware that a number of you have applied for a license to carry firearms and that others of you have purchased weapons. Corporal Best is going to pass out a brochure to all of you that summarizes Maine law on the possession and use of firearms, and I want each of you who owns a weapon to take steps to see that you are entirely within the law. I will not tolerate the illegal possession or use of firearms on this island. I refer particularly to the securing of weapons to keep them out of the hands of children.

“Further, I want each of you to give serious thought about the circumstances under which you might use a firearm. It would be best if you had a plan of behavior if someone should enter your home, or if you should otherwise feel the need to use a weapon. Tomorrow afternoon at three, Corporal Best and I are going to hold a seminar here at the yacht club on the storage and use of firearms, and you should bring your weapons with you. Do not, however, bring any ammunition. Before you leave your home, check to see that your weapon is unloaded. We will only do dry firing during the seminar. Any other questions?”

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.

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.”