"I wish I could believe that," Stone said, "but from what I've seen so far, I think the odds are heavily against her. Sir Winston Sutherland wants her neck in a noose, for whatever reason, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to stop him."

Wheaton looked at him closely. "Jesus," she said with wonder, "you really think she's innocent, don't you?"

Stone looked at her in amazement. "Of course I do; after all that questioning, don't you?"

"Not for a minute," Wheaton replied. "Listen, over the years I've interviewed a couple of hundred people who were either accused of murder or who had just been convicted or acquitted; I learned to tell the guilty from the innocent, and let me tell you, not more than ten of them were innocent." She pointed her chin at Allison. "And she's not one of them."

"Show me one hole in her story," Stone said.

"There isn't one. But she's guilty just the same. Call a woman-to-woman thing, if you like, but I look in those beautiful blue eyes and I know."

"Is that what you're going to say on 60 Minutes?"

"Are you kidding? I'd be fired out of hand. No sir, going to play it straight,let her answers speak for themselves, and ninety-nine percent of the audience is going to be outraged that this beautiful, innocent young woman could be charged with murder. That's what you want isn't it?"

"Certainly, that's what I want."

"Well, relax, because that's what you're going to get." She paused and looked across the harbor at the boats. "Unless I can dig up something new between now and Sunday." She turned and walked up the pontoon toward the pub. Then she stopped, turned, and walked back. "One more thing," she said. "You seem like a nice guy, Stone, so let me give you some free advice: don't fall in love with her; don't even fuck her, if you haven't already. Allison Manning is a dangerous woman."

Stone was speechless. He watched her walk away.

Stone was having lunch with Hilary Kramer from the New York Times at the Shipwright's Arms when Thomas Hardy waved him to the bar, pointing at the phone. Stone excused himself, got up, and went to the bar.

"It's somebody named Cantor," Thomas said, handing Stone the telephone. "By the way, Chester called from the airport, too; says he's loaded down with media folk all afternoon."

"Right," Stone said taking the phone. "I'd like to have a press conference here Friday morning at ten, if that's okay."

"Sure."

Stone spoke into the phone. "Bob?"

"Stone? Glad I caught you; I'm coming home tomorrow."

"That was fast; were you able to cover any ground such a short time?"

"You bet; I got into Las Palmas early, so I took a flight to Puerto Rico and spent a couple of then came back to Las Palmas."

"What have you learned?"

"Nothing in Puerto Rico, except they took on fuel nd water and spent one night there; more in Las Palmas."

"Tell me."

"They were at the yacht club marina for four or five days, doing odd jobs on the boat and provisioning with fruit and vegetables at the local market. Paul had a drink at the yacht club bar late every afternoon, once or wice with Allison, but apart from the shopping, she kept pretty much to the boat. Boats go in and out of that marina constantly, so I was only able to find one boat still there with people who remembered the Mannings. Apart from their boat, which was big and beautiful, they remembered only a couple of things about them: first, their rubber dinghy was stolen, and Manning apparently had trouble finding the replacement he wanted; finally he had it flown in from Barcelona. Second, the Mannings had a terrific fight late on the night before they left Las Palmas."

"Tell me about the fight," Stone said, lowering his voice and looking around to be sure no one overheard.

"A real knockdown, drag-out domestic dispute. Crockery was thrown, names were called, tears were shed, and the whole thing happened at top volume."

"Did you get any direct quotes?"

"No, but it had something to do with sailing-with their route, or something."

Odd, Stone thought, that Allison would argue with Paul about something to do with sailing the boat. "That's all you could find out?"

"That's it. Apparently the couple did all the usual things that the yachties do when they sail in and out of Las Palmas-repairs, food, and like that."

"Funny, a guy showed up here, a journalist, who says he had dinner with them their last night in Las Palmas. Any mention of a third party there during the fight?"

"Nope, no mention. I'm afraid that's all there is here."

"About the dinghy, what was so special about the one he had flown in from Barcelona?"

"I don't know; apparently the guy was real picky about his stuff. There were other dinghies available here-Avons and Zodiacs, mostly, both good brands, one English and one French. He wanted something called a Parker Sportster, an American model, very expensive. It arrived on their last morning. Can you think of anything else I should be doing here?"

"No, I guess not; go on home."

"Soon as I'm back I'll finish up my research into Manning; there wasn't time to do much before I left."

"Do that, and get back to me soonest. It's Thursday, and the trial is on Monday; I'll need the info fast."

"Right; I'll be in touch."

Stone hung up the phone just as Jim Forrester ordered a drink at the bar."Just the man I wanted to see," he said.

"What's up?"

"You said you had dinner with the Mannings their in Las Palmas, right?"

"Right."

"How late were you with them?"

"I don't know, maybe eleven o'clock."

"Did the Mannings have a fight when you were there?"

"No, not exactly; they did disagree about something, though."

"What was that?"

"It was kind, of crazy, when you consider that Allison apparently didn't usually take much interest in the sailing of the boat. We were looking at their route on the chart, and she wanted to sail a direct course from Puerto Rico to Antigua. Paul pointed out to her that the trade winds blow some distance south of the Canaries, and if they wanted to take advantage of the trades, which everybody does who's crossing in those latitudes, they'd be better off sailing south or southeast from Puerto Rico until they picked up the trades, then turning west with a good breeze at their backs. She couldn't seem to grasp that, for some reason. We'd all had a good deal to drink, of course; maybe she was just spoiling for a fight. You know how married couples can be. Anyway, I was a little uncomfortable, so I said my good-byes and left. They were still arguing about it when I stepped ashore."

"Do you recall anything about Paul having a rubber dinghy flown in from Barcelona?"

"Yeah, I do; somebody had stolen his dinghy, and he wanted a new one, something special. It wasn't available in Las Palmas, so he called somebody in Barcelona and had one sent."

"A Parker Sportster?"

"Beats me."

"Did he give any reason for wanting that particular dinghy?"

"Not that I can recall. He seemed obsessive about having just the right gear on his boat, I remember that well enough; every item on it seemed to have been chosen with great care."

"Was the one that was stolen a Parker Sportster?"

"I don't know, I guess so."

"Thanks, Jim. Thomas, put Jim's drink on my tab."

Forrester grinned. "You think a New Yorker reporter would accept favors from a lawyer in a case he was writing about?"

"You bet I do."

"You're right," Forrester said, raising his glass to Stone, then taking a big swig. He wandered off to find a lunch table.

Stone dialed his office number in New York, and his secretary answered. "Hi,it's Stone," he said. "What's happening?"

"Not a hell of a lot," she replied. "Arrington went to L.A.,but she said she faxed you about that."