STONE UNLOCKED THE front door of his house and let everybody in. “Dino, put your stuff on the elevator, take it up to the third floor and put it in the big guest room. We’ll be in my office.” Dino complied.

Stone led the way downstairs to the basement and switched on the lights in his office. “Have a seat,” he said to Lance and Holly. They did so. Stone went to his safe, punched the combination into the electronic keypad, removed a package and set it on his desk.

Lance bent over and looked at the package, then smiled. “Smart boy, Dick.”

“Why?”

“Look at how he’s done this: The package is one large sheet of heavy paper, cut so that four corners come together and are sealed with wax and Dick’s signet ring.”

“Why?” Stone asked.

“Because it’s impossible to open and reseal the package without his ring and without being detected. I think you should draw up a document saying that Holly, Dino and I witnessed your opening the package.”

“Okay by me,” Dino said, joining them.

Stone switched on his computer, typed out a brief statement, and the three of them witnessed his breaking the seals and opening the package. Then Stone put the package back into his safe and locked it.

“What are you doing?” Lance asked.

“It’s your turn to answer some questions,” Stone said. “What is your interest in my cousin Dick?”

“I don’t have to answer your questions, Stone,” Lance said.

“And I don’t have to show you what’s in Dick’s package,” Stone replied.

“All right, I guess we’re all family here,” Lance said. “Dick Stone wasn’t with the State Department. Until recently, he was Assistant Deputy Director for European Operations for the CIA. Two weeks ago, he arrived with his family in Washington to replace Hugh English as Deputy Director for Operations-that’s the top job on the operations side, reporting to the Director of Central Intelligence. After thirty years on the job, Hugh is retiring at the end of the summer. You remember when you and I met in London a couple of years ago?”

“Of course.”

“I was working for Dick at the time. I’ve been assigned to investigate the deaths of him and his family.”

“All right,” Stone said, “now everybody go sit in my waiting room while I read what’s in the package.”

“Why?” Lance asked.

“Because I’m representing Dick as his attorney and what passes between us is confidential, unless I determine that it doesn’t need to be.”

Lance stared at him for a moment, then got up and left the loom, followed by Holly.

“You, too, Dino,” Stone said. Dino got up and left the room.

Stone opened the safe, took out the package and spread its four flaps. On top there was a letter from Dick Stone and beneath was a will. Stone read the letter:

My Dear Stone,

First of all, I wish to hire you as my attorney, and I enclose a check for $1,000.00 as a retainer. Of course, I know that your fees will surpass that amount, should I require services, but that will be taken care of in due course.

Barbara and I have written a will, which is enclosed, and I have had it properly witnessed by four people, whose names and addresses are noted. I have appointed you as our sole executor and, should it be necessary, guardian for our minor daughter, Esme, who is now eighteen, until she reaches her majority. She is entering Oxford this fall. I have also appointed you as her trustee, as she stands to inherit a lot of money if Barbara and I should both walk in front of the same oncoming bus.

You will note that, apart from a few bequests to distant relatives on Barbara’s side of the family, there are none to members of my family. My only close relatives are Caleb, his wife and their twin sons, now twenty-one years old and seniors at Yale this fall. I have specifically excluded them from inheriting any of my property. I have provided for our caretaker in Dark Harbor, Seth Hotchkiss (you’ll remember him), and his family.

You will also note that, in the highly unlikely event of Barbara, Esme and I dying simultaneously, as in a plane crash, you would become a beneficiary, along with the foundation mentioned in the will. I say highly unlikely because we always travel on different airplanes.

Next time we meet, I will explain why I have made the decisions I have regarding our estate. In the meantime, I ask you to follow my wishes as you understand them.

It is not inconceivable that, should I die anytime soon, my employers may express an interest in my affairs, and I authorize you to cooperate with them to the extent you deem advisable.

Finally, I have attached a joint financial statement, giving account numbers, phone numbers of brokers, etc., which you would find useful in the event of our deaths. I should explain that most of our combined assets come from Barbara, inherited from her father.

I thank you for your kind attention to this matter, and the next time I find myself in New York, I’ll take you to dinner again-it’s been too long-or, alternatively, perhaps you might find some time to spend with us in June in Islesboro. I built my own house there four years ago, and you’ll find it more comfortable than the old family barn, now occupied by Caleb and his menagerie.

Warm regards, Dick

Stone put the letter aside and read the will and the financial statement, then he called the group back into his office.

“All right. I have Dick’s permission to talk with you about the package. Let me summarize: It contains a letter to me, his and his wife’s will and a financial statement.”

“What…” Lance began.

Stone held up a hand. “It’s all very simple,” he said. “If Dick dies first, Barbara gets everything; if she dies first, he gets everything; if they both die, their daughter, Esme, gets everything in trust. I am appointed their executor and their daughter’s guardian and trustee.”

“What happens if they all die?” Lance asked.

“Apart from a few bequests to Barbara’s relatives and to a family retainer, the bulk of the estate would go to the Samuel Bernard Foundation. I would inherit the use of the Islesboro house for the life of myself and my heirs, along with the proceeds of a trust, set up to pay the expenses of maintaining and running the house. If I don’t want the place, it would be sold, and the proceeds would go to the same foundation. Dick has specifically excluded his brother and his family as heirs, and if I sell the house, I am instructed to entail the deed in such a way that Caleb could never buy it.”

“Sounds like some hard feeling between the two of them.”

“Given my experience of them in their youth, I’m not surprised,” Stone said. “I know Sam Bernard, of course, but what is the foundation?” Samuel Bernard had been a law-school professor of Stone’s and had remained a mentor who had historic connections to the CIA.

“It’s set up to provide for the families of Agency officers killed or disabled in the line of duty,” Lance said. “How much did Dick leave the foundation?”

“A million dollars,” Stone said, “in the event of his own death. As I said, in the event of the whole family dying simultaneously, most of the estate goes to the foundation.”

“And how much is that?”

“Thirty million dollars, give or take. Dick’s wife was a very wealthy woman.”

Lance drew in a quick breath. “That is astonishingly generous,” he said.

“Lance,” Stone said, “what reason do you have for thinking that Dick murdered his family and killed himself?”

“That is the opinion of the sheriff and the state police in Maine,” Lance said. “My superiors would like for you and me to determine if he’s right.”

“Do you think Dick was mentally ill? You’ve seen him more recently than I.”

“I have no reason to think so, and certainly the contents of his letter to you and his will are lucid and make him seem sound of mind.”