Stuart Woods - Cold Paradise

“This same guy once rigged an airplane engine to fail, killing all three aboard,” Stone said. “He’s not stupid, and he has some skills.”

“What?” Lundquist demanded. “He’s murdered three other people?”

“If he’s who I think he is,” Stone said. He explained Paul Manning’s background, not mentioning that he had been Liz’s husband.

“So we couldn’t charge him with those three killings, then?” Lundquist asked.

“No, he was tried and convicted, then the authorities were bought off.”

“He might even have a pardon,” Liz said.

Stone looked at her. “Was his wife pardoned?”

“In a manner of speaking. She was given a piece of paper.”

“So, Lieutenant, do you have enough evidence to arrest him?”‘

“I can arrest him for obtaining a Minnesota driver’s license under a false name, and I can probably get him extradited, but I’m not sure we have enough evidence to convict him of murder. Still, I’d like to get him back to Minneapolis and question him thoroughly. Maybe he’ll even cop to it.”

“Not a chance,” Stone said. “He’d lawyer up in a heartbeat. I’d be willing to bet he’s got the number in his pocket right now, just in case. And it sounds like you’d have a hell of a time proving that he tampered with the seat belt. His attorney would paint it as damaged in the accident or defectively manufactured, and Bartlett as a grieving husband.”

“Maybe you’re right,” Lundquist said, “but I’m waiting for a call from my office, and when they come up with just a little more evidence, I’m going to bust him. At the very least I can expose his false identity and let the world know who he is.”

“He’s not going to tell you who he is,” Stone said, “and that’s the only way you’re going to find out. The feds certainly aren’t going to admit that he was in their program.”

“If he’s Paul, I can identify him in court,” Liz said.

“I thought you were refusing to face him,” Stone replied.

“I won’t while he’s free, but I’d be happy to testify as to his identity, if it would help put him away.”

“I don’t know that it would,” Stone said. “Given the evidence we’ve got, I’d much rather defend him than prosecute.”

“This is very convoluted,” Dino said. “Not only do we not know if he was in the witness protection program, we don’t even know what name he was using before he went in.”

“I don’t understand,” Liz said.

“Okay, he gets out of being hanged in St. Marks, and he returns to this country. He’s not going back to using Paul Manning for a name, he’s going to pick another one. Then he gets involved in whatever ends up getting him into the program, and he gives the feds that name, not Manning. They change it to another name, then he skips out of the program and changes it again. And there may be a couple of other name changes that we don’t even know about.”

“Holy cow,” Lundquist said. “I didn’t know what I was getting into when I came down here.”

“You probably wanted a little nice weather, like me,” Dino said. He waved an arm. “And look what we got.”

Lundquist gazed through the transparent curtains as lightning lit up Lake Worth. “I might as well have stayed in Minneapolis.”

“Well,” Chief Griggs said, “if it’s any consolation, I think we’ve got enough to run him out of Palm Beach.”

“You sound like an Old West sheriff,” Callie said.

“It’s a little different,” Griggs replied. “In the Old West, I’d have threatened to shoot him if he showed his face in town again. Nowadays, I’d just make sure the local and Florida papers heard the whole story, and once everybody had heard about it and gossiped about it, he wouldn’t be able to show his face in town again. We had a guy down here a few years back that had kidnapped his young kids when a divorce didn’t go his way. Established himself here under another name and stayed for years until his wife caught up with him. Now he’s persona non grata among the people he knew best. That, I can do to Bartlett, or whatever his name is.”

“It isn’t enough,” Liz said. “He could still try to kill me.”

Lundquist turned and stared at her. “Just when I thought I had a grip on this story…”

“Mrs. Harding was once married to Paul Manning,” Stone said. “We didn’t mention that before.”

“Oh,” Lundquist said, tonelessly. He was massaging his temples, like someone trying to hold on to his sanity.

“Maybe your lab will come up with something else in the car,” Stone said.

“Maybe, but I’m not going to count on it,” Lundquist replied. “We do have the fact that he got his wife to cancel the prenuptial agreement and make a new will. That’s motive.”

“Oh, you have both motive and opportunity,” Stone said, “but a good lawyer would make a conviction very difficult to obtain. It’s like this: I’m his lawyer, and I stand up in front of the jury. Ladies and gentlemen, my client had no criminal intent when he changed his name. Bad people were after him, and he had to protect himself. Why, it was the government itself that changed his name first. There’s no evidence that he put pressure on his wife to change her will. No, she did that out of love and affection for my client, who is a very loveable and affectionate fellow, crushed by the loss of his bride. My client doesn’t have the technical expertise to tamper with a finely made piece of German engineering, and after all, he was in the same car; he could have been just as easily killed. And on and on like that.”

“This is very depressing,” Lundquist said.

Dino spoke up. “It might help in court if you proved he was Paul Manning, who had already murdered three other people in St. Marks, even if he got away with it.”

“I could get his past ruled out as evidence,” Stone said, “on the grounds that it was irrelevant and prejudicial, and if I couldn’t, I’d say he was railroaded by a corrupt foreign government. No, Mr. Bartlett has crafted himself a very nice little box to live in. And, Dan, if you got him run out of Palm Beach, he’d just go to Palm Springs, or some other place with an inviting climate, and establish himself all over again under another identity. And now he’s got the money to make himself credible in a place like that.”

Everybody was quiet for a while.

Finally, Dino spoke up again. “Unless we staked out Liz like a goat for a lion, then waited to see what happened.”

The four of them got out of the two cars at the Breakers Golf Club and gave three bags of clubs to the attendant. The clubhouse was modest, in comparison to the grandeur of the hotel, Stone thought. The weather, as predicted, had cleared beautifully, and it was much cooler after the front had passed through.

“But I don’t play golf,” Liz complained. “What am I doing here?”

“Playing chauffeur,” Stone said. “You can drive a cart. Also, you’re playing the goat.”

“I don’t think I like the goat idea,” she said. “Not when Paul is the lion.”

“Dino’s right,” Stone said, “as much as I hate to admit it. This is the only way to smoke him out. We’re not having much luck any other way. If we see him, you can identify him; if not, then at least we’ll be seen, and word may get back to him that you’re still around.”

“All right,” Liz said.

“This is a pretty chilly paradise you got here,” Dino said, zipping up his jacket to the neck.

“In more ways than one,” Callie said, as another group of golfers inspected them as they passed, staring hard.

They signed in at the clubhouse, then got into carts and drove to the first tee, where the starter cleared them to tee off.