Distant Thunder

21

The following morning Stone got a call from Vanessa.

“Stone, if John is to remain legally dead, do I need an accountant?”

“I was under the impression that you already had one. But I’ll be happy to recommend someone. You’ll need an accountant to close out the estate and file a final tax return. Call Bertrand James.” He gave her the number. “He’ll tell you what has to be done. One thing he could do for you is to write, on your behalf, to all of John’s creditors and instruct them to send final bills, then close his accounts. Do you have a death certificate?”

“Yes.”

“Then give that to Bert and he can send copies to the creditors. By the way, you’ll have to decide what you’re going to do about the Cayman account. If you’re going to declare it, tell Bert.”

“And if not, don’t?”

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear that. Bye.”

“I’ll call him right now.” She hung up.

Dino called. “You heard anything from the late John Collins?”

“Nope, not a word. Vanessa is instructing an accountant now on closing the estate.”

“That’s always fun.”

“It is, if you discover unexpected riches; it’s not, if you discover unexpected debts.”

“Dinner tonight?”

“Sure. Clarke’s at seven?”

“Done.” They both hung up.

Late in the afternoon, Sergeant Young of the Maine State Police called.

“Good afternoon,” Stone said.

“I’ve thought a lot about our conversation, and I’ve decided that the Collins case will be a lot less trouble if I assume he’s alive.”

“If you say so. By the way, who was the man who was shot on the ferry?”

“The murder victim?”

“Right. If Collins is alive, who’s the victim?”

“I guess I’ll have to investigate that.”

“Where are you going to start? I mean, you don’t have the corpse, so you can’t pull prints or a DNA sample. Do you still have his clothes?”

“I guess those would be with the ME.”

“He might have printed the corpse, too, or kept a tissue sample for DNA. I should think that would be standard practice.”

“I’ll give him a call now,” Young said, then hung up.

Stone was on his first drink at the bar when his phone rang. “Hello?”

“Mr. Barrington?”

“Yes?”

“This is John Collins, how are you?”

“Ah, the mysterious Mr. Collins! A better question to ask might be: How are you? You certainly don’t sound dead.”

Collins chuckled. “I’m relieved to hear that.”

“Where are you?” Stone asked. “Can you join me for dinner at P. J. Clarke’s?”

“I’m in the city, but I have another commitment. Vanessa suggested we meet, though. How about tomorrow night?”

“Fine. Do you know Patroon?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s meet there at seven o’clock. I’ll book.”

“See you then,” Collins said, then hung up before Stone could ask any further questions.

Dino pulled up a stool, and the bartender set a Scotch before him. “Sorry I’m late.”

“If you had been here a few minutes earlier, you could have witnessed a phone conversation between the spirit of John Collins and me.”

“He called?”

“Yes, and we have a dinner date tomorrow evening at Patroon. Would you like to join us?”

“You mean you want a witness.”

“Well, yes. And a fingerprint and a DNA sample.”

“If you get all that and have me as a witness, then the mystery ends?”

“Unless he turns out not to be John Collins.”

“Then a new mystery begins,” Dino said. “I love a mystery.”