"I told him where she was from and suggested he get in touch with the nearest American consulate." "He couldn't figure that out by himself"

"Apparently not."

"What if he starts talking to her relatives?" she asked. "What if he does? That doesn't matter to us, does it?" She didn't reply.

"Does it? Allison, is there something you haven't told me about Libby?"

"No, certainly not," she said.

"Because this is no time to start withholding information from your lawyer. I need to know everything there is to know."

"You do. I mean, I've told you everything I know about her."

"I certainly hope so, because I don't want to get into that courtroom tomorrow and have Sir Winston raise something I've never heard about.

You do understand the necessity of my being fully prepared, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she cried. Now she was really getting upset; there were tears in her eyes.

"All right, all right, don't cry," he said. He hated it when women cried; he didn't know what to do. "Everything will be all right, as long as I know everything I need to know." He put his arms around her.

"I wouldn't lie to you," she sobbed. "Why don't you believe me?"

"I do believe you, really I do," he whispered. "It's going to be all right, don't worry." He hoped that was the truth, because he was very, very worried himself.

CHAPTER.

, 35.

having placated Allison, Stone returned to the Shipwright's Arms to continue working on his opening statement for the trial. As he entered, Thomas beckoned. "Bob Cantor called you," he said. "I'll call him from my room," Stone said, then ran up the stairs, let himself in, and dialed the number. "Cantor." "Bob, it's Stone." "Thanks for calling; I've got some stuff on Elizabeth Manning, but I didn't think you'd want me to fax it." "What is it?" "A guy I know is on the Palm Beach force, and he did a little moonlighting for me. Elizabeth Manning is, rather was, something of a gadfly in the town--a hanger-on, sponger, whatever you want to call it. She writes this column for a newspaper--an advertising sheet, really--and she practically lives on the food she gets at parties."

"Any family?"

"A mother."

"Did your man find out anything about her?" "She's a widow in her early seventies; name is Maria Peters, a former actress, ill much of the last ten years with MS. She lives on Social Security and what she earns playing the piano in a hotel lobby at tea time for tips, plus what her daughter brought in. The two of them shared an apartment."

"Nobody else at all? A brother or sister?"

"Nobody. My guy is sure of that; he talked with the mother."

"He didn't tell her anything about the crash?" "Nope; I didn't tell him. He told her he needed some information about some society type from her daughter, asked her to have Elizabeth call him when she got home."

Stone sat, thinking about the woman, imagining her taking requests from other old ladies for dollar tips in some faded Palm Beach hotel, scraping by on Social Security.

"Stone, you still there?"

"Yeah, Bob; I'm sorry, I was lost in thought there for a moment."

"Anything else you need?"

"No, not at the moment; I'll call you if I do." "Sure; see you later."

Stone hung up, depressed. Before he could move, the phone rang again.

"Hello?"

It was Thomas. "Stone, there's somebody named

Potter on the phone; says he's a lawyer, wants to

Now what? "Okay, put him through."

"Hello?"

Good afternoon, Mr. Barrington; my name is Harley Potter of the law firm of Potter and Potter, of

Palm Beach, Florida." The voice was elderly, courtly. "What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?"

"I understand you are the attorney for the estate of Paul Manning."

"No, that's incorrect. I represent Mr. Manning's widow in ." .

another matter. I believe the estate is being handled by a firm in Greenwich, Connecticut." He gave the man the name of the firm.

Thero, was a long silence.

"Is there something else I can do for you?"

"I wonder, Mr. Barrington, have you, during the past few days, had occasion to meet a Mrs. Elizabeth Manning?"

"Yes, I have. She arrived in St. Marks the day before yesterday."

"Ah, good; I wonder if you could tell me where she's staying?"

"Do you represent Mrs. Manning?"

"I represent her mother, who is an old friend. Usually, when Libby travels, she keeps in close telephone contact with her mother, but nothing has been heard from her, and Mrs. Peters--that's her mother---is concerned."

"Mr. Potter, I'm afraid I have some very bad news. Mrs. Manning was killed yesterday in an airplane crash. She was on her way home to Palm Beach."

"Oh, dear God!" the man cried, more upset than

Stone would have expected an attorney to be. "Are you absolutely positive? Could there be any mistake?"

"I'm positive. In fact, I witnessed the crash. It was a light, twin-engined airplane that flies people to Antigua, where they make airline connections. There was an engine fire; the pilot tried to ditch in the water, stalled, and the airplane disintegrated. All three people aboard, Mrs. Manning among them, were killed instantly. I believe the local government has been trying to notify Mrs. Manning's next of kin, but apparently they've not yet contacted Mrs. Peters."

"No, I'm sure they haven't; I spoke with her not ten minutes ago. This is just terrible; Libby's mother is so dependent upon her."

"I suggest you get in touch with the minister of justice in St. Marks, whose name is Sir Winston Sutherland, at Government House in the capital city."

"I shall certainly do that. I will want to make arrangements to bring the body home for burial."