"All right," Burrows said, "let me lay it out for you: I'll give you a letter on 60 Minutes letterhead, guaranteeing you air time this Sunday night."

"Guaranteeing me a full segment," Stone said.

"All right, all right. You give me first and exclusive access to Allison first thing tomorrow morning, and you don't hold your press conference until my reporter and I are out of here with our tape."

"Who's the reporter?"

"Chris Wheaton."

"Never heard of him. What happened to Mike Wallace and Morley Safer?"

"Chris is a she, and she's new; this will be her first story. She's already on a plane,and she's all you're going to get."

"This is a full segment, though?"

"I'll put it in writing."

"Okay, but Jim here is going to sit in." He held up a hand before Burrows could object. "He's not going to ask her any questions during your time, he's just going to observe for his New Yorker piece. Can't hurt to have your program's name in the magazine, can it? I bet Chris Wheaton will love it."

"Okay, it's a deal. First thing in the morning; Chris won't be in until tonight, and I want daylight, with palms and water in the background."

"How about in the cockpit of her boat?"

"Ideal."

"You go write your letter; Jim and I have to talk." Burrows went back to the bar, opened his briefcase, extracted a sheet of stationery, and started writing. Stone turned back to Forrester. "Tell me about your meeting the Mannings," he said.

"We had done a shoot in the yacht club, and I was having a drink at the bar when Paul sat down next to me; I recognized him, so I introduced myself."

"What was your impression of him?"

"Big guy," he spread his hands; "full beard, bear like; as tall as me, but a good fifty, sixty pounds heavier; laughed easily. He liked it that I knew his work, and he offered to show me his boat."

"What else did you talk about while you were in the bar?"

"The outline of his cruise, where he'd been, et cetera."

"How long were you there?"

"Long enough to finish a pina colada-twenty minutes, half an hour-then we walked down to the marina, and he introduced me to Allison."

"What was your first impression of her?"

"A knockout; she was wearing a bikini, after all."

"Right. I mean, what did you think of her?"

"Bright, charming, funny. I liked her immediately, just as I did Paul."

"How much time did you spend with them?"

"It was late afternoon, and they invited me to stay aboard for dinner. Allison cooked some steaks on an outdoor grill, off the stern and we drank a couple of bottles of good California cabernet."

"What time did you leave?"

"Must have been close to ten o'clock. I was staying in a hotel in town, and I had an early-morning flight back to New York; I wanted to get some sleep."

"Think back: What was your impression of their relationship?"

"Warm, affectionate; they shared a sense of humor. They seemed to like each other a lot." "Were they in love?"

"Yeah, I guess they were. I remember I admired how well they got along, especially after spending several months together on a boat. That kind of intense, longterm proximity has ruined more than one relationship."

"Did you ever see them again?"

"Yeah, briefly; when I got back to my hotel there was a message from New York saying they wanted some more shots on Grand Canary, then some on the Canaries island of Puerto Rico. I stayed on in Las Palmas for another day, then flew down to Puerto Rico in the late afternoon of the day after that."

"Did you know they'd be there?"

"They might have mentioned it, but it didn't register. Next time I saw them, I was standing on a stone jetty on the south side of the island, and they motored past on the boat, heading for Antigua. I yelled to them, and they waved back and said they were sorry they missed me, then they were gone."

"What was their mood at that moment?"

"Jubilant, like they were glad to be getting back to sea. They were laughing, I remember; he said something to her that I couldn't hear, then she laughed and slapped him on the ass."

"Jim, will you testify to all this at her trial?"

The writer shrugged. "Sure, if you think it will help."

"I think it just might help; you were apparently the last person besides Allison to see Paul Manning alive."

"Glad to do it."

"One more question, Jim, just between you and me: Do you think that Allison is the sort of person who could have killed Paul?"

Forrester looked astonished. "Of course not. Well, I guess anybody could kill anybody under the right circumstances, but I would bet the farm she had nothing to do with his death. Absolutely nothing I saw in their relationship would indicate that."

"Good," Stone said, relieved to have an objective opinion that reinforced his own. "I'll ask you some form of that question under oath."

"And I'll give you the same answer."

The rest of the 60 Minutes crew arrived at dusk, and Stone had dinner with Jake Burrows and his reporter, Chris Wheaton. They met at the bar of the Shipwright's Arms, got a drink, and found a table. Stone looked over the reporter: she was small, intense, as blond as Allison, and handsome rather than pretty. He thought she would look very good on camera.

"Allison asked to be excused from dinner," Stone told her. "She says she needs a good night's sleep."

"That's okay," Wheaton said, "I don't want to meet her until we're on camera; the interview will be fresher that way. Has Jake told you how we're going to work this?"

Stone shook his head. "We made some ground rules about the air date and the segment, but that's it; you can ask her anything you want."

"Good. I expect we'll talk for at least an hour, maybe a lot longer."

This hadn't occurred to Stone, and it meant that they would be editing the tape to show the parts they liked best, and that might not work entirely to his client's benefit. It was too late to start negotiating again, though, and he'd just have to put a good face on it. "That's fine," he said, "talk as long as you like. If she gets tired or upset, we might have to take a break."

"We'll have to change tape," Wheaton replied. "She can pee or have a cry while we're doing that." She leaned forward. "Tell me, how did you become involved in this? Did she get you down here from New York when she found out she needed a lawyer?"

Stone shook his head. "I was down here for a cruise when she sailed in alone. My girlfriend didn't make it because of the snowstorm, and I went to the inquest for lack of anything else to do. It became obvious that her questioner had some ax to grind, and at the lunch break I offered to advise her."

"Who was the questioner?"

Stone told her about Sir Winston Sutherland and his attitude toward Allison.

"I don't get it," Wheaton said; "why would this Sir Winston guy want to make trouble for this poor widow?"

Stone thought she was being disingenuous, but he didn't call her on it. "I don't get it, either," he said.

"So why isn't some local lawyer defending her?"

"A local lawyer is defending her; I'm second chair."

"Who is he? I want to talk to him."

Stone's stomach turned over. "He's not talking to anybody but Allison and me. Maybe after the trial, we'll see."

Wheaton glanced at her producer.

"I mean that; he's got a lot of work to do between now and the trial, and I don't want him disturbed. He's an elderly man; he only has so much energy to devote to this, and I want Allison to get the benefit of all of it."

Wheaton nodded. "How much are you getting paid to defend her?"

"We haven't discussed a fee."

She smiled. "Uh-huh."

"It just hasn't come up," Stone said lamely.

"Is that how you would operate in New York?" Stone shook his head. "Of course not, but we're not in New York. She's a fellow American in trouble in a foreign place, and I'm glad to help her if I can. Anyway, I'm not necessarily a very good buy as an attorney in St.Marks, since I don't really know the ropes of the local legal system."