Stone strode toward the Shipwright's Arms. Dusk was falling, and the first customers were arriving for dinner. He looked around, saw no sign of the other Mrs.Manning, then went to the bar. "Give me a rum and tonic, Thomas," he said.

Thomas complied. "Seems like you got something of a mess on your hands," he said.

"Tell me about it. Will you ring Mrs.Manning's room, please?"

"She left orders not to be disturbed."

"Disturb her."

"Stone," Thomas said gently, "if you're going to handle this lady, don't you think you'd better do it gently?"

Stone took a deep breath and exhaled. "You're right," he said. "I'll wait for the lady to make her appearance for dinner." He picked up his drink. "I'm going upstairs for a few minutes; if she shows up tell her I'd like it if she'd join me for dinner."

"I'll tell her."

Stone went up to his room, switched on his computer, and began to type. When he had finished he printed out the document on the blank page over Allison's signature, slipped it into an envelope, and started to leave. Then he stopped, picked up the phone, and dialed Bob Cantor's number again, and once more got his answering machine. He swore and slammed down the phone, then composed himself and went downstairs.

Libby Manning was sitting at the bar, sipping a martini; he wondered if she were a drunk. If so, he'd better get moving. "Good evening," he said to her, managing a smile.

"Good evening," she said. "I accept your invitation to dinner."

"I'm glad," he replied. "Thomas, may we have a table?"

"Right this way," Thomas said, picking up a pair of menus.

"Something quiet," Stone whispered as he passed.

Thomas showed them to a corner table with a view of the harbor, then he brought Libby Manning another martini and Stone a rum and tonic.

She raised her glass. "Better days," she said, smiling.

"I'll drink to that," Stone said, sipping his drink. "So, Libby, tell me something about yourself. Are you a Florida girl?"

"Born and bred," she said. "Went to Dade County High and the University of Miami, majored in journalism went to work for the Herald. How about you?"

"Born and bred in New York, NYU law school, a time with the NYPD, then retirement and the practice of law."

"What kind of law?"

"Whatever comes along."

"I thought most lawyers specialized these days."

"Most do. Whatever my clients need done, I specialize in."

"And how did the lovely Allison come to hire you?"

"Well, when she sailed in alone on that boat, I was the only game in town, I guess."

"Were the papers right? Is she going to hang?"

"Not if I can help it."

"Can you help it?"

"That remains to be seen."

"The trial is next week?"

"That's right."

"And if they hang her, it'll be pretty quick, will it?"

"Libby, you are a pessimist." Or maybe an optimist, he thought to himself. "Let's order." They chatted idly until their food came, and ate mostly in silence. She was waiting for him to make the first move, he reckoned. Then, as they ate, another couple was shown to a table a few yards away. Stone looked up and gulped.

Libby leaned forward. "Who is that extraordinary looking black fella?" she asked.

"His name is Sir Winston Sutherland," Stone replied, keeping his voice down, "and he is the worst nightmare of any white woman traveling alone in this country."

Her eyes widened. "How do you mean?"

"His greatest pleasure seems to be finding innocent American girls, charging them with capital crimes, and hanging them without much of a trial. Allison is his most recent victim."

"He's the one who's prosecuting her?"

Stone nodded. "Take my advice, Libby; avoid him at all costs, and whatever you do, don't let him find out who you are."

Libby downed the rest of her martini and started on the wine. "Why should I be afraid of him?"

"Well, another rich American widow might be a tempting target."

"Rich? Me?"

"Well, Paul was fairly rich, wasn't he? Sir Winston knows all about that."

"Jesus, Paul was only sending me ten thousand dollars a month."

"Three thousand," Stone said, sipping his wine.

"Well, I'm sure he must have provided for me in his will."

Stone took the document from his envelope and handed it to her. "I think you'd better read his will."

She dug some glasses out of her handbag and read quickly. "That shit," she said under her breath. "That utter and complete shit. I'll get a lawyer and sue his estate."

"On what grounds?" Stone asked.

"Oh, a lawyer will come up with something."

"Libby, the kind of lawyer who would take your case would bleed you dry before the court even ruled, and then you'd get nothing."

"I'd still get my alimony," she said.

"Maybe. I won't know that until I see your divorce decree. A copy is being faxed to me from Miami tomorrow morning."

She blinked rapidly, but said nothing.

"Libby, if you should sue the estate, it will upset Allison very badly, and right now, she holds the purse strings. She'll stop paying your alimony until a court rules otherwise, and that could take a long time. Are prepared to get by on the salary from your newspaper column in Palm Beach until it all gets sorted out? It take years."

"Oh, I'll get by all right; don't you worry," she said, smiling, but she was still blinking rapidly.

"Let me make a suggestion," Stone said.

"Go right ahead."

"Suppose Allison gave you, say, ten years of alimony, all at once. That would be three hundred and sixty thousand dollars in your bank account, right now."

"Right now?"

"The minute the check clears."

Libby stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. "No, sir; I want a million dollars."

"Allison has authorized me to offer you four hundred thousand dollars," Stone said, "and not a cent more." He took the check out of his pocket, filled in her name and the amount, and handed it to her.

Libby put on her glasses again and looked at the check. "Yeah," she said, "and as soon as I'm out of here she'll stop payment."

"No, she won't do that," Stone replied, handing her the document he had written a few minutes before.

She began reading.

"You see, it says that if she stops payment, you can sue her. And four hundred thousand dollars, wisely invested, should give you an annual income that represents a substantial raise over what you're getting now. And you'd always have that nest egg to fall back on." He took the document, filled in the amount, and handed it to her. "Allison's signature is already at the bottom, and her signature is on the check."

She looked up at him, obviously tempted.

"If you demand more, Allison will fight you, and she's the one with all the money. All you have to do is sign both copies of that document, have Thomas witness it, then go upstairs, get a good night's sleep, and take the first plane back to Miami tomorrow morning. The reservation has already been made."

Still, she hesitated.

"The money can be in your bank account within three business days, if you ask your bank to rush it."

"Suppose Allison gets hanged next week? What then?"

"The money's still yours. But if she hangs and you sue her estate, then you'll have to fight Allison's heirs, and they're going to care even less about you than she does. At least she's trying to do the right thing, even though she doesn't have to."

Libby Manning stood up and walked over to the bar, clutching the documents, with Stone right behind her. "Thomas," she said, "will you witness my signature, please?"

"Of course," Thomas said, watching her sign the documents, then signing them himself.

She handed Stone his copy and tucked her copy and check into her handbag. "What time is the first flight tomorrow morning?" she asked him.