"About what?"

"About this Elizabeth Manning?"

"I never saw the woman before yesterday; never heard of her, either."

"Did she demand money from Allison?"

Not until after her lawyer had made her an offer, Stone reflected. "No," he replied.

"Was she headed for Connecticut to pursue something with the estate?"

"Not to my knowledge," he said.

"If she had, would she have had a claim?"

"There's no mention of her in Paul Manning's will."

Kramer closed her notebook. "Well, I'll phone this in after breakfast."

They ate their food in silence, then Thomas waved at Stone, and he went to the bar.

"Fax for you," Thomas said.

Stone took a stool and read through Libby 's divorce decree, then he laughed out loud. "What?" Thomas asked.

"Nothing," Stone replied. "By the way, did Libby Manning make any phone calls last night?"

"Nope; no calls on her bill. Anyway, you told me to unplug her phone."

"Right." Stone was looking at Libby's divorce decree, at the instructions for alimony. "Plaintiff shall pay to the defendant the sum of three thousand dollars a month on the first day of every month," he read, "beginning immediately and continuing for a period of ten years." He checked the date on the decree. Libby Manning's alimony had run out three weeks earlier. She must have been desperate, he thought, but she had been cool enough to shake down Allison for four hundred thousand dollars, with his help.

He walked away shaking his head.

As Stone walked back toward the marina he could not stop thinking about Libby Manning. He was depressed, and he felt guilty, though he could not think why. Certainly a human being was dead, one he had known; but not one he had known well or had come to care about. So why couldn't he shake the feeling? He boarded Expansive and went below. Allison was putting something away in a cupboard.

"Libby Manning is dead," he said.

"Come again? I don't think I heard you right."

"Libby is dead. Chester crashed shortly after takeoff this morning, and Libby and a local woman were killed, along with Chester."

She stood, staring at him for a long moment. "Dead," she repeated tonelessly. "No chance she might still be alive?"

"The airplane went down in at least six hundred feet water. Chester's body was recovered, but nobody else."

Allison sank onto a sofa, looking as if the wind had knocked out of her. "How could this have happened she asked.

"There was an engine fire, but nobody knows why, my guess is that nobody is going to know. In order figure out what made an airplane crash, you need the or at least a lot of it, and a wing tip was all that was recovered."

"Some sort of mechanical problem, then?"

"Apparently."

"What could cause such a problem?"

"A fuel leak, maybe. I have no idea what sort of rules a pilot like Chester would operate under on this island, but my guess is he was pretty much on his own. He'd have had the manufacturer's service requirements to go by, but I doubt if there was anybody looking over his shoulder." He looked at her. "Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm fine," she said, but she didn't sound it. "I'm just shocked, I guess. Three people dead."

Stone sat down beside her. "It is pretty depressing," he agreed.

"Maybe I shouldn't be depressed," Allison said. "After all, her death saves me four hundred thousand dollars."

"Maybe," he replied.

"Maybe? Why maybe? Didn't our agreement and my check go down with her?"

"I suppose so."

"Then why maybe?"

"Strictly speaking, that money was hers, and her heirs are entitled to it."

"Heirs? Libby had heirs?"

"I've no idea, but let's say, for example, she had a sister, and she left a will leaving everything to her. She'd be entitled to the four hundred thousand. Even if Libby died intestate, that is, without a will, her next of kin would be in line for it."

"But there's nothing. The check and the agreement went with her."

"Suppose she called this putative sister last night and said, 'Guess what? I just got four hundred grand, and I'm going to give you some.' And she told her sister where and how she got it. Suppose she mailed a copy of the agreement, or the agreement itself, to the sister. Then the sister would come after you, because she'd have evidence of an agreement to pay, but no payment."

"But you don't know if there is a sister."

"No, and Libby didn't make any phone calls last night, according to Thomas, who would have a record of it if she had. She didn't mail anything this morning either, as far as I know."

"So I'm safe."

"If you want to be."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean, the proper thing to do would be to search out Libby's executor, if she has one, and pay him the money. Then he could distribute it to any heirs or family she may have had."

"And suppose she didn't have any heirs or family?"

"Then it would go to the state of Florida, which is where she resided."

"So you're suggesting I should give the state of four hundred thousand dollars in Libby's memory? So they could, maybe, put a statue of her in front of state capitol?"

"No, but I could have a search for heirs or family done. Then, at least, you'd know."

"I don't want to know," Allison said. "I think that in the circumstances, that's a ridiculous idea."

"If it will help, I'll add to the circumstances," he said, handing her a document. "That's Libby and Paul's divorce decree. The judge gave her ten years of alimony, and the ten years expired earlier this month."

Allison read the paragraph. "So she was bluffing?"

"Looks that way."

"She had no claim to the estate whatever, and she had the gall to come down here and extort four hundred thousand dollars out of me?"

"She didn't extort anything; she responded to an offer, an offer I made her, with your permission, because of circumstances she knew nothing about."

"So you're saying she just got lucky; that she happened to be at the right time and at the right place to come into four hundred thousand dollars of my money."

"I think that's accurate. And while you're at it, you might remember that it was I who advised you to pay her off."

"Stone, I understand why you gave me that advice and, in the circumstances, I think it was the right advice. I'm not angry with you, I promise."

"I'm glad you understand all that," Stone replied, "because I think I gave you the right advice, too."

"And now you're advising me to search out Libby's relatives and give them the money."

"I'm not really giving you advice now; I'm just pointing out to you the legal and ethical burdens of your situation."

"But if I just forget about Libby and the agreement and the check, and if I tell you, my lawyer, to forget about it, then…"

"Then you can keep your four hundred thousand dollars, and the ethical requirements of the attorney-client relationship would prevent me from disclosing any of this to Libby's heirs."

"Did you tell anyone else in the world about that agreement?"

"No. Thomas witnessed it, though."

"Did he read it?"

"No. If someone subpoenaed him and questioned him in court, he could testify that he witnessed a document, but he could not say what it contained."

"Then from a legal point of view, my position is airtight, isn't it?"

"I'll put it this way: if someone, a relative, an heir, a lawyer, turned up here or in Greenwich and tried to press a claim against you or the estate, he would have no grounds on which to proceed. No grounds that I'm aware of, anyway."

"So I have no legal obligation to Libby's heirs?"

"Yes, you do have such an obligation, but it is unknown to anyone outside the attorney-client relationship, and if it were known it would very probably be unenforceable, unless someone had a copy of the agreement. You also have a moral obligation, but whether or not you meet it would depend on the condition of your morals."