“I don’t like this,” Stone said.

“What are you referring to? There’s so much not to like.”

They turned right instead of left and began a circuit around the island.

“I’m bothered by Ed being holed up like that.”

“He seems pretty comfortable.”

“If these people, whoever they are, want him out of the way, they’re eventually going to win.”

“Not before Ed kills a few of them,” Holly said. “We know that he’s prepared to do that. I think these people know they have to be careful, that they can’t murder someone on a Maine island in Penobscot Bay and expect it to go unnoticed.”

“It sounds like Ed hasn’t spoken to anybody but Jimmy Hotchkiss since last fall, so it’s not like he’d be missed on the island.”

“He’d be missed by Jimmy Hotchkiss, who, as you’ve pointed out, seems to have the ear and attention of everyone here.”

“That’s a good point. I’ll stop worrying until something happens to Jimmy.”

Holly laughed. “You do that.”

—

WHEN THEY GOT BACK to the house there was an envelope stuck in the front screen door. Stone retrieved it; it was made of thick cream-colored paper, and engraved on the rear flap was the legend “United States Senate, Washington, D.C.”

“What’s that?” Holly said.

“Let’s go find out,” Stone said, unlocking the front door and letting them in, then relocking it. They went into the living room and sat down on the leather sofa. He held out the envelope to Holly. “You want to inspect this for explosives before I open it?”

Holly backed away a few steps. “You go right ahead,” she said.

Stone took a silver letter opener from the coffee table and slit the flap. “Apparently, it’s safe,” he said, and Holly came and sat beside him. He removed a single sheet of notepaper on which was engraved Whitney Saltonstall, United States Senator from New York.

“Do you know Senator Saltonstall?” Holly asked.

“Yes, I’ve had lunch with him a couple of times at a club we both belong to.”

“Which club?”

“It doesn’t have a name. Members just call it ‘the Club.’”

“How idiotically classy,” Holly said, moving in close and reading the note along with him.

My Dear Stone,

I am aboard the motor yacht Breeze, anchored off the Tarratine Yacht Club, as a guest of my friend Christian St. Clair. If you are resident on Islesboro at this time, we would both be very pleased if you and your companion (if you have one, as you usually do) would join us this evening for drinks and dinner. Dress will be black tie, or nautical uniform. If you receive this, you may text a reply to the number below. A launch will collect you from the Tarratine’s dock at 6:30 PM.

With kindest regards,
Whit

“Whew,” Holly said. “You keep fancy company.”