“Thanks for coming this morning. Martha appreciated it.”

“I was glad to be there. Janey seemed particularly upset.”

“Yeah, Don was her favorite uncle; they were close.”

The fax machine rang and began to spit out pages.

“Hold on a minute,” Stone said. He went to the machine and retrieved two pages, then returned to the phone. “Sergeant Young faxed me Don’s phone records,” he said, looking over the pages.

“What’ve we got?”

“Not much. He called you a few times and a couple of other numbers.” Stone read them to Rawls.

“That’s Harley and Mack.”

“Then there’s the call to the WATS line, and that’s it for the past week.”

“Shit again,” Rawls said.

“Yeah. Do you have any idea at all whose criminal records Don could have been checking on?”

“Not a clue.”

“Do Harley and Mack have security systems in their houses?”

“Harley does. Mack’s having one installed today.”

“Good. Make sure they both use them, will you?”

“Don’t worry; they won’t need any prodding.”

“Talk to you later.” Stone hung up and returned to his coffee. Arrington was on her knees on the floor next to Peter.

“What are you copying, honey?” she asked.

“A book,” he said.

“Where did you get it?”

“I found it in a desk drawer in my room.”

“Can I see it for a minute?”

“Sure.”

Arrington picked up the book, which was bound in leather, and flipped through it slowly. “Peter, this is somebody’s diary.”

“It is?”

“Yes, and a diary is a very private thing. You shouldn’t be reading it.”

“I wasn’t reading it. I was just copying.”

“Well, I think you should find something else to copy.”

“All right.” Peter gathered up his papers and went upstairs.

Arrington handed the book to Stone. “It’s the diary of somebody called Esme Stone,” she said, handing it to him.

“That was Dick’s daughter,” he said.

“Perhaps you should put it away somewhere.”

Stone looked at the book. Esme’s name was stamped in gold on the cover. It had probably been a Christmas or birthday present from her parents. He flipped through it, marveling at the beautiful handwriting, then closed it. He shouldn’t be reading it any more than Peter should.

Stone went to the cupboard where the safe was, opened it, put the diary inside and closed it again. Next time they built a fire, he would burn it, and Esme’s secrets would be safe.

29

AFTER LUNCH Stone remembered that he had not gone for the New York Times, and he asked Peter if he’d like an ice cream cone.

“I think I can handle that,” Peter replied.

Stone laughed. “I bet you can.”

They got into the MG and started for the village.

“I like this car,” Peter said. “What kind is it?”