Dead In The Water

CHAPTER 33

Sir Winston stared across the table at Stone, waiting for an answer. Stone thought fast, but there was not much he could do in the way of obfuscation. Sir Winston had seen him at dinner with Libby Manning and had, no doubt, noticed the passing of documents between them. He decided to follow Mark Twain's advice: when in doubt, tell the truth.

"Elizabeth Manning was the first wife of Paul Manning," Stone said.

Sir Winston's eyebrows went up. "Ahhhh," he breathed. "Not a sister or a cousin, but an ex-wife?"

"Yes."

"Tell me, Mr.Barrington, how many ex-wives did Paul Manning have?"

"Just the one, to my knowledge."

"And what brought the first Mrs.Manning to our beautiful island?"

"Your beautiful island, I expect; and, perhaps, some curiosity about the death of Paul Manning. She'd read about it in the American papers, you see, and she wondered if she could be of any assistance."

"Ah, yes," Sir Winston said, an edge in his voice. "It seems a great many people read about Mr.Manning's death in the American papers. I have heard from a number of them, including Senators Dodd and Lieberman of Connecticut."

"Yes, I believe Mr.Manning was a very substantial contributor to the Democratic Party," he lied, "and a personal friend of the President and Mrs.Clinton." The champagne was taking effect now, and he had trouble keeping a straight face.

"Indeed?"

"Yes, I've heard that the president is an avid reader of Mr.Manning's books." He stopped himself from adding that Paul Manning was also an investor in the Whitewater real estate venture and a financial advisor to the First Lady.

Sir Winston cleared his throat loudly. "To return to the first Mrs.Manning, what business did you and she discuss during her visit?"

Stone wondered if, somehow, Libby's copy of the agreement had been found. "Sir Winston," he said, "I am sure you understand that I am bound by the confidentiality strictures of the attorney-client relationship, but I think it would not be untoward for me to tell you that Elizabeth Manning, who was not a wealthy woman, had some notion of participating in her former husband's estate. He had been paying alimony to her during the past ten years, a requirement of their divorce decree which had recently expired."

"And did she participate in Mr.Manning's estate?"

"Elizabeth Manning was disappointed to learn that had not been mentioned in Mr.Manning's will, and, requirement for alimony having expired, she was entitled to nothing further."

"So why were you and Mrs.Manning exchanging at dinner the other evening?"

"I can tell you only that the second Mrs.Manning, of a kind nature, felt moved to improve the circumstances of the first Mrs.Manning."

"Improve to what extent?"

"I'm afraid that client confidentiality prevents me saying more."

Sir Winston stared at him for a long moment, then nodded at the waiter, who disappeared and came back with two platters of lobster salad. Sir Winston ate his lobster, sipped his champagne, and stared out to sea.

Stone ate his lunch, too, grateful for the opportunity to collect his thoughts. Clearly, Sir Winston had believed that he might turn the presence, or perhaps even the death, of Elizabeth Manning to his advantage in court. Stone was happy to disappoint him.

Sir Winston finished his lobster and sat back in his chair. "What else do you know of Elizabeth Manning?" he asked. "There is the matter of notification of next of kin, you see, and lacking her passport or other documents, we are somewhat at a loss as to how to proceed."

"I know that Elizabeth Manning made her home in Palm Beach, Florida,…"

"But you said that she was not a wealthy woman," Sir Winston interrupted. "I should think that living in Palm Beach would be a very expensive matter. I have visited that city, you see."

Stone shrugged. "Every American city, even the wealthiest, has neighborhoods that house those who are employed by the wealthy. I do not have Mrs.Manning's address, but I am sure that she must have lived in such a neighborhood. She told me that she was employed by a small newspaper to write a column about Palm Beach society. It gave her a sort of entree to social events, but I imagine that her nose was very much pressed against the shop window of that society."

"Mmmm," Sir Winston mused.

"I should think her address would be on her hotel registration card," Stone said, "and that the nearest American consulate could be of assistance in tracing her next of kin."

"Of course," Sir Winston replied. "That is all being taken care of."

"If I can be of any further assistance in making inquiries, let me know."

"No, no; that won't be necessary."

Coffee and petit fours appeared on the table, and both men helped themselves.

"Tell me, Stone, if I may call you that?"

"Please do."

He smiled broadly. "And you may call me Winston, of course. Tell me, just what is in all this for you?"

"In all what?"

"The trial, your, ah, services to the second Mrs.Manning."

"We have not discussed a fee, Winston," Stone replied. He had no doubt of what Sir Winston meant by "services."

Sir Winston allowed himself a small smile. "But, I take it, you have accepted a retainer of sorts?"

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," said fine, putting on his best poker face.

"I'm reliably informed that the second Mrs.Manning has taken you into her…confidence."

"I am her attorney; she would be foolish not to take me into her confidence."

Sir Winston smiled again. While I do not wish to be indelicate, reports have reached me that you have been entering leaving Mrs.Manning's very beautiful yacht at, shall we say, odd hours."

Stone tried to appear confused. "I'm sorry, I don't know what this has to do with my representing Mrs.Manning."

"Then I will be blunt," Sir Winston said, clearly out Of patience, "I believe that you have been providing services to Mrs.Manning which are above and beyond those which might be construed as legal."

Stone, cornered, decided to tack. "Winston, where did you attend law school, if I might ask?"

Sir Winston pulled himself up to his considerable full height. "I read law at Oxford," he said.

"At Oxford University, in the town of the same name, in England?" Stone asked, sounding surprised.

"The very same."

"Then, with such an illustrious legal background, perhaps you could provide me with some precedent for a prosecutor-let alone a minister of justice-indulging in such conjecture with a defense attorney."

"Sir," Sir Winston said, leaning forward, "you are fucking the lady, aren't you?"

"Is that why I was brought here?" Stone demanded. "To indulge your prurient curiosity?" He stood up. "Sir," he said, "neither my sex life nor hers is your proper concern. Rather, you should be concerned with this extremely strange prosecution of an innocent and bereaved woman for a crime which she could never have committed." He threw down his napkin and left, in the highest dudgeon he could manage.

"You listen to me, Barrington!" Sir Winston called after him, following him through the large office and the reception room into the hallway. "When this trial is over-and maybe even before-you are going to come to a reckoning with me!" His voice echoed down the long hallway.

Stone kept his eyes straight ahead, down the hall and the stairs into the street, expecting to be arrested at any moment. He flagged a cab and dove into it. Not until he was a block away did he allow himself to look back to see if he was being pursued.