Stone sat down and picked up the book. He read a couple of pages, and by the time she returned, he had read thirty. “You’re right,” he said. “It starts well.” He looked up at her. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you, sir.” She was wearing a yellow shift that set off her tan.

They walked through the main house, and as they were about to get into her car, a small procession of Mercedes convertibles pulled into the driveway behind them, and a man got out of one and came toward them, carrying a clipboard.

“Where could I find Mr. Shames?” he asked.

“He’s on his way to Palm Beach, but he won’t be arriving until this afternoon.”

“Are you Ms. Hodges?”

“I am.”

“Oh, good. You can sign for the cars.”

She looked at the three convertibles. “Sign for them?”

“I’m delivering them from the dealer,” the man said. “Mr. Shames ordered them some time ago.”

“Sure, I’ll sign,” Callie said, and did so. “Just leave the keys in them.”

“They’re all registered. You want me to show you how everything works?”

“We’ll figure it out,” she said, getting into her car. She pulled out of the drive and headed toward the beach.

“Thad has bought three Mercedes convertibles?”

“He does things like that. Come to think of it, he mentioned this a few weeks ago, and I had forgotten. He bought them for himself and the guests on the yacht to use.”

“I’m unaccustomed to people who buy expensive cars three at a time.”

“Well, if you’re going to work for Thad, you’d better get used to that sort of thing.”

“Actually, my work here is nearly done,” Stone said. “I thought I’d fly home tomorrow.”

She glanced at him. “Whatever your work was, it seems to have been conducted in restaurants. You haven’t been anywhere else here, have you?”

“I guess I haven’t,” Stone replied, “and you’re right.”

“Can you tell me about it now?”

“Afraid not.”

“This is all very mysterious.”

“It isn’t, really, or at least, it wasn’t until I got here.”

“This has to have something to do with the lady in the restaurant the other night.”

“Could be.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Elizabeth Harding.”

“That wasn’t what you told me the other night. It was Alice, or something like that.”

“Allison. Allison Manning.”

“Oh, yeah, Paul Manning’s wife.”

“Widow.” Then it occurred to Stone that she wasn’t Manning’s widow, since he was still alive. He made a mental note to think about that later.

A guard let them through a gate and they drove down a narrow road beside a golf course.