Naked Greed

13

Stone introduced Caroline to Seth Hotchkiss, his caretaker. “You’ll meet Mary, his wife, too.”

“This car is beautiful,” Caroline said as they got into the old station wagon. “It looks like new.”

“My cousin Dick Stone, who built this house, had it restored.”

“Will he be here, too?”

“Dick is deceased, sadly. I bought the house from his estate.”

They drove past the little collection of buildings that was Dark Harbor, then on to the house. Seth took care of their luggage while Stone gave Caroline the tour.

“This is a lovely house,” Caroline said. “Who designed it?”

“Dick did that himself, with a little help from somebody at the CIA.”

“I’m confused — the CIA is in the house-building business?”

“Dick was an important official at the Agency, and they tend to want their people to be safe, so many of the safeguards they demanded are built into this house.”

“So, you’ve got a bulletproof car and a bulletproof house? I’m starting to worry.”

“Both came to me that way, and nobody will ever find us here.”

Seth came into the living room. “Mary says dinner’s at seven,” he said. “Lobster tonight.”

“Great, Seth, thanks.” Seth beat a retreat. “What would you like to do?” Stone asked Caroline.

“You’re always going to get the same answer to that question,” she said, nuzzling him.

“Let’s wait until bedtime. I want to pace myself.”

The following morning Frank and Charlie took off from Essex County Airport, west of Teterboro, in a single-engine Cessna 182, having paid their pilot cash in advance. Frank sat happily next to the pilot, watching the moving map, while Charlie quavered in the rear seat.

“How long can we fly in this thing without crashing?” Charlie yelled over the noise of the engine.

Frank handed him a headset. “There, can you hear me?”

“Yeah,” Charlie replied. “How long can we fly in this thing without crashing?”

“Oh, about six hours.”

“How far is it to where we’re going?”

“About an hour and a half.”

Charlie did the arithmetic. “Okay,” he said.

An hour and a half later, the pilot set down the airplane at Islesboro Airport. There were half a dozen small airplanes parked on the ramp, and a man was working on one of them.

They taxied to the ramp, the engine was cut, and the two men got out.

“’Scuse me,” Frank said to the man working on the airplane, “how far is it to town?”

“Town?” the man asked. “You mean Dark Harbor?”

“Right.”

“A couple of miles, I guess.”

“Can we rent a car?”

“Sure, in Camden.”

“Where’s that?”

“On the mainland. You take the ferry.”

“Is there a taxi?”

“Sort of.” The man gave him a number. “Ernie will come, if he has nothing else to do.”

Frank called the number, and the man who answered agreed to come to the airport. Forty minutes later he arrived, in an elderly Plymouth, and they got in.

“Where you want to go?” Ernie asked.

“Uh, to Mr. Stone Barrington’s house.”

Ernie gave the two men another look. They were dressed in suits, one of them double-breasted. In Ernie’s experience only tax collectors and private detectives came to the island dressed like that. “Don’t know anybody by that name,” he replied.

“Then just take us to Dark Harbor,” Frank said.

Ernie nodded and put the car in gear, which was an occasion for a grinding noise, then drove away. Ten minutes later he drew to a halt in front of a general store. “Here y’go,” he said. “That’ll be ten dollars.”

“There’s no meter on this thing,” Charlie pointed out.

“That’s okay,” Ernie said, “I know how much the fare is. It’s ten dollars, unless you want to go somewhere else.”

“How much for you to wait while we ask directions?” Frank asked.

“Ten dollars.”

Frank sighed, and he and Charlie got out of the Plymouth and climbed the stairs into the store.

“Hey, they got ice cream,” Charlie said, and ordered a cone. “You want one, too?”

“Strawberry,” Frank said. “Excuse me, miss,” he said to the girl who was scooping the ice cream. “Do you know where we can find a Mr. Stone Barrington?”

The scooper, whose name was Gladys, checked out the two men. They were wearing suits, and worse, hats. They had to be either cops or bill collectors. “Nope,” she said, handing them the two cones. “That’ll be ten dollars.”

Frank paid for the cones. “Do you have a phone book?” he asked.

“Right over there by the phone,” Gladys replied, pointing helpfully.

Frank went over to the phone, licking the cone to keep if from dripping, and flipped through the thin volume with his free hand. “No listing,” he said. “C’mon, Charlie.” They went back to the car and got in. “The girl inside doesn’t know Mr. Stone Barrington,” he said.

“Well,” Ernie replied, “if she don’t know him and I don’t know him, he ain’t worth knowin’.”

Frank looked at Charlie questioningly.

“I’m stumped,” Charlie said.

“Let’s just drive around for a while,” Frank said to Ernie. “Maybe we’ll see him.”

“You know what he looks like?” Ernie asked.

“Yeah.”

“How long you want to drive around?”

“I don’t know, let’s cover the island.”

“The whole island?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fifty dollars,” Ernie said, “and don’t get that ice cream on my seats, or I’ll have to charge you for cleaning.” He put the car in gear again and gave them a tour of the island, carefully avoiding the Stone house, which was what the locals called the Barrington house. They ended back at the store. “Did you see him?” Ernie asked.

“I didn’t see anybody but a man with a dog,” Frank said.

“Was that him?”

“No.”

“You want to go back to the airport?”

“What’s the alternative?”

“The ferry to Lincolnsville.”

“The airport,” Frank said.

Ernie drove them to the airport. “That’ll be, let’s see, ten dollars for the drive to Dark Harbor, ten dollars for the wait, fifty dollars for the tour, and ten dollars back to the airport. That’s eighty dollars, as I make it. No checks or credit cards.”

“Do you take American dollars?” Frank asked, handing him a hundred.

“Yep, but I don’t got change for this.”

Frank sighed. “Keep it,” he said, and got out of the car, followed by Charlie. They walked back to the airplane.

“Where to?” the pilot asked.

“Back to the airport.”

“Which one?”

“The one we left from.”

“You got it,” the pilot said, then started the engine and taxied onto the runway.

“Will this airplane take off on this little bitty runway?” Charlie asked from the rear seat.

“Let’s find out,” the pilot replied, then shoved the throttle forward.