Dead In The Water

CHAPTER 13

Stone woke not long after dawn as a shaft of new sunlight fell across his face; it had been a warm night, and they were both lying on top of the bed covers. She lay on her stomach with her head turned toward him, a strand of blond hair falling to a corner of her mouth and a tiny frown on her face, as if she were trying to figure out something about a dream. The frown lent her the innocence of a little girl.

Stone didn't know what had motivated her to make love to him-maybe the realization that she might have no more than a week to live and the desire to make the most of it; or maybe she was just horny. For himself, he had been disappointed, angry, jealous, drunk, and, oh yes, horny. She was a client, of course, but he was a long way from the Ethics Committee of the New York State Bar Association, and he had never been any good at saying no to women. He reached over and lifted the strand of hair from her face, and, to his surprise, she smiled.

"I was just going to do that," she said.

"Glad to be of service," he replied.

Without opening her eyes, she reached for him and ran her hand down his body until it rested on his crotch. "Speaking of service," she said, "are you in a mood to render a little?"

"I am now," he replied, reaching over and running a finger lightly down the cleft between her cheeks.

She gave a little shudder and pulled herself on top of him.

He took her buttocks in both hands, and moved them up until her pelt was in his face, then began using his tongue lightly, teasing her until she became more insistent. She came easily, as she had been doing for most of the night, then she slid down his sweaty body and returned the favor, insisting on hanging on until he was entirely spent. Then she flopped down beside him, and they panted together, laughing. Shortly they were asleep again.

They were awakened by a sharp rapping on the hull.

"Ahoy there, anyone aboard?" A female voice.

"Jesus," Stone said, "what time is it?"

"Half past nine," she replied, checking the bulkhead clock.She raised herself on an elbow. "Who is it?" she called out.

"The New York Times," the voice replied. "If you're Allison Manning, I'd like to talk with you."

"I really don't think the Times should find us like this," Stone whispered.

Allison grabbed a robe and left the cabin, while Stone lay low. He could hear her climbing the companionway ladder, then the two voices.

"I'm afraid I overslept," Allison was saying."Could I meet you over at the Shipwright's Arms in half an hour?"

"I'm Hilary Kramer," the woman said."I'd really like to see your yacht."

"Maybe later in the day," Allison said. "It's a mess right now."

"All right," the woman said, sounding disappointed. "I'll meet you over there in half an hour."

Allison came back to the after cabin. "The New York Times! That I wasn't expecting."

"I don't know how she could have gotten here so soon," Stone said. "I wasn't expecting anybody until tomorrow, late this afternoon at the earliest. I'm certainly glad she didn't arrive at dawn."

Allison burst out laughing. "That would have made quite a story, wouldn't it?"

"I hope I can sneak over to my boat without being seen."

"You'd better start sneaking."

"I'll be there when you talk to her. Just be yourself, tell your story just as you told it at the coroner's inquest."

"I don't know any other way to tell it," Allison replied.

Stone, showered and dressed, got to the Shipwright's Arms a little before Allison. He walked over to the table where the woman was drinking coffee. "Good morning," he said, "I'm Stone Barrington, Allison Manning's attorney." He stuck out his hand.

"Hilary Kramer," she replied, shaking his hand. "Your name is familiar." Stone shrugged. "I'm a New York lawyer; I was down here on a sailing charter when Allison sailed into the harbor. I helped her at the coroner's inquest and…well, ever since." He sat down. "How did you hear about all this?"

"I was vacationing on Antigua, right next door; the story moved last night on the AP wire and the paper called me late; I got a little plane over here this morning."

"Sorry to interrupt your vacation," Stone said.

"You won't interrupt it for long, believe me. I'll file something before noon, then I'll be back on my beach."

Stone looked up. "Here comes Allison," he said.

"She's cute," Kramer said.

"How did you know I was here?"

"My boat is moored next to Allison's; I heard talking." He stood up. "Good morning, Allison; I think you've already met Hilary Kramer from the Times."

"I did," Allison said, sitting down. She waved at Thomas, who had appeared at the bar. "Can I have some coffee? You, too, Stone?"

"I've already had some," he lied, "but a second cup wouldn't hurt."

"Make it for two," Allison called.

Before the coffee arrived, Hilary Kramer was deep into her interview. She covered all the ground, most of it better than had been done at the coroner's inquest. "So what's your legal position now?" she asked finally.

"Stone can explain it better than I," Allison said, "but as I understand it, they could hang me as early as next week."

Kramer turned to Stone. "They want to hang her?"

Stone nodded gravely.

"And what do you think are their chances of doing that?"

"Off the record, I think that will depend greatly on what the press has to say about this. If enough pressure can be brought to bear in the media, her chances will improve a lot."

"Why is the government doing this, with so little incriminating evidence?" Kramer demanded.

"Still off the record, there is a body of opinion that holds that Sir Winston Sutherland, the Minister of Justice, has an ax to grind."

"What sort of ax?"

"You've got me. Why don't you ask Sir Winston?"

Thomas, who had returned with a fresh pot of coffee, piped up, "Be glad to lend you my car," he said.

"Thank you very much," she replied. "Is there a phone here? I'd like to call Sir Winston's office for an appointment."

"I think you'd have a much better chance of seeing him if you'd just show up at Government House," Thomas said.

"You might get more if he's a little off-balance," Stone chipped in.

Kramer looked around the table at all of them. "Look, this is not some sort of elaborate practical joke, is it?"

"I wish it were," Stone said."And before you go, I think I should enlighten you a little about the system of justice as it exists on St.Marks-all off the record, of course. If you should quote me, it might react to Allison's detriment."

"Sure, off the record. Shoot."

When he had finished, her mouth was hanging open. "Is there someplace I can get a room for the night?" she asked, finally.

Thomas spoke up. "I have some rooms upstairs," he said. "We had some cancellations because of the snowstorm in New York."

"Great," she said. "Can I borrow that car now?"

"Sure."

"And where can I pick up a toothbrush?"

"There are shops all around Government House."

"I'd like to call my office, too."

"There's a phone on the bar, or in your room," Thomas replied.

Kramer produced a camera from her bag. "I'd like to get some pictures of both of you," she said, beginning to snap them. "Does Federal Express know about this island?"

"They do," Thomas said. "They'll pick up from here; delivery will likely take two days, though."

"Shit," she said. "Allison, are there any pictures of you floating around New York?"

"Paul's agent has one of the two of us together," Allison replied. "Her name is Anne Sibbald; she's at Janklow and Nesbit."

"Know them well," Kramer said, continuing to photograph. "I'll call them right now. Thomas, will you lead the way to my room?"

"Right this way," Thomas replied.

When they had gone Allison turned to Stone. "Did that go well?"

"I think it could hardly have gone better."

"She's suspicious of you and me, though; woman's intuition. We'd better be very correct around her."

"We'd better be very correct everywhere, except in bed," Stone replied. "I'd suggest we give up sex for the duration, but I don't think I could stick to that."

She smiled. "Neither could I."

"Stop smiling at me that way," he said, looking around.

The smile disappeared. "I'll be very correct," she said.