“Thank you,” Caleb said. “I’ll have the boys bring it back when we’re done.” He stood still for another moment, then said, “Well, I suppose I’d better go. Thank you for taking care of the funeral directors. Will you send me a bill?”

“The estate paid for it,” Stone said. “I’ve already sent them a check. I’ve dealt with the insurance company, and you should have a check from them within a week.”

“Thank you for that, too,” Caleb said and headed for the door.

Stone walked him to the door, shook his hand and closed it after him. Stone had still not become accustomed to Caleb’s newfound civility and quiet nature.

The phone rang, and Stone answered it in the study, at Dick’s desk.

“It’s Dino.”

“How are you? How did the meeting with Mary Ann and the lawyers go?”

“Lousy, but the one with Eduardo went better.”

“Why with Eduardo?”

“It was at his invitation.” Dino told him what had happened.

“That’s very good news, Dino.”

“Yeah, now I’m not stuck with just a salary and a pension.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to buy an apartment and invest the rest with a guy Eduardo recommended. So I’ll be out of your house as soon as I can find the right place.”

“Take your time.”

“How’s it going up there?”

“It’s all very pleasant. I played golf yesterday with an old cohort of Dick’s and had lunch at the yacht club, but I have no leads on the murders.”

“Am I going to have to come back up there and solve this for you?”

“Any help would be appreciated.”

“I’m going to be tied up here for a few days, then maybe I’ll do that.”

“You’d be welcome. How’s Elaine?”

“As ever. What did you expect?”

“As ever.”

“I gotta run; I’ve got an appointment with a real estate agent.”

“Take care.” Stone hung up. It was past his lunchtime, and he went into the kitchen and found Mabel fixing him a shrimp salad.

“Oh,” she said, “I thought of something. About that night.”

“What did you think of?” Stone asked.

“It was the vacuum cleaner.”

“What about the vacuum cleaner?”

“It was in Mr. Dick’s study, over by the door to the terrace.”

“Where would it ordinarily be?” he asked.

She pointed to a door across the kitchen. “In there, in the broom closet.”

“Do you think Dick used it?”

She shook her head. “Mr. Dick never lifted a finger to clean anything; I don’t think he would know how to operate a vacuum cleaner.”

“Did you mention this to the police?”