“Let me get this straight,” Holly said. “You gave a high-class burglar a tour of your home, pointing out all the security features?”

“Yes, and actually he pointed them out to me, not the other way around.”

“God, you’re naive, Stone.”

“I am not.”

“Don’t you know anything about burglars?”

“Of course I do; I worked burglary for a year on the NYPD.”

“How many did you catch?”

Stone hesitated. “Not as many as I would have liked.”

“There you go,” Holly said. “A smart burglar is notoriously hard to nail. If he doesn’t get caught or seen on the property or leave fingerprints or DNA, and if he has a fence unknown to the police, he’s damn near bulletproof. These guys know this. Even the ones who get caught learn from their mistakes and go right back to work as soon as they’re out of the joint. Very high recidivism rate among burglars. There’s also a significant sexual component to these crimes; burglars are often rapists. They get caught for that rather than for the burglaries.”

“All right,” Stone said. “I’ll introduce you to the guy.”

Mabel Hotchkiss bustled into the kitchen. “Oh, you’re already eating,” she said. “I wanted to make breakfast for you.”

“We fixed our own,” Stone said. “How was your evening on the mainland?”

“We enjoyed it very much,” Mabel said, starting to clean up the pots and pans they’d used.

“You should have stayed longer.”

“No, one night there is enough. I like to get home.”

“Mabel,” Stone said, “can you ever remember anyone getting into this house who shouldn’t have been here? Anyone outside the family?”

Mabel shook her head. “Mr. Stone said that could never happen, because of steps he’d taken.”

“Has either you or Seth ever lost a key?”

“No, we each have one; mine’s in my purse, and Seth’s is in his pocket. Why do you ask?”

“I’m still trying to figure out everything.”

They finished their breakfast, then Stone got out the MG and they drove north on the island.

“I don’t know what our excuse is going to be for this visit,” Stone said.

“Why do we need an excuse?”

“I don’t want to appear to be harassing the man,” he said.

“Leave it to me.”

They turned onto Hal Rhinehart’s drive and stopped next to the shop. Rhinehart was at his drawing table in his office, working on a set of plans. “Good morning,” he said.

“Morning, Hal. I want you to meet Holly Barker, a friend of mine.”

Rhinehart shook Holly’s hand. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask you about something,” Holly said.

“Go ahead.”

“You know the Stone house has Assa locks.”

“Yes, and they’re the best.”

“If you wanted to get past one of them, how would you do it?”