“Well, then, her lawyer can make a claim on my estate, can’t he?”

“Yes, I suppose so. It would just be simpler to…”

“Not now,” she said, and she said it emphatically.

Stone nodded. “By the way, do you have a will?”

“Yes, it’s with the lawyer in Greenwich.”

“Do you want to make any changes to it? I could draft something for you.”

She thought for a minute. “No, I don’t think so; it still reflects my wishes. I gave it a lot of thought at the time.”

“All right.” He stood up. “I’d better get up to my room at the Shipwright’s Arms; I’ve got some work to do.” There was a folder lying on the dressing table, the folder he had given Allison containing her copy of the agreement with Libby. He took a step toward it.

“Excuse me,” she said. She stepped past him, picked up the folder, and stuffed it into a duffel. “See you later.”

He left the boat and started up the dock. As he did, a very modern, fast-looking motor yacht entered the harbor and made for the marina. He stood and watched her. She must have been on the order of eighty feet, and she looked as if she’d do a good fifty knots in the open sea. As he watched she moved into a berth a few yards down, and two smartly dressed crewmen hopped onto the pontoon to make her fast. She was flying a yellow customs flag, and the officer on duty stirred himself from his shack and ambled down to the marina.

Stone continued toward the Shipwright’s Arms, and when he was nearly there, he stopped and looked back. The skipper of the yacht, which was called Race, was sitting in the cockpit, going over documents with the customs officer. A thought occurred to him; a bad thought. No, he said to himself, Allison wouldn’t do that.

He picked up some Federal Express materials at the bar, stuffed the death certificate into the envelope, addressed it, and left it on the bar, then went up to his room and dialed the law offices of Potter & Potter. An elderly-sounding secretary put him through.

“This is Harley Potter.”

“It’s Stone Barrington, Mr. Potter.”

“Ah, yes, Mr. Barrington; do you have some news for me?”

“Nothing very earthshaking, I’m afraid. The inquest was held this afternoon, and a verdict of death by misadventure was reached.”

“I see.”

“I obtained a death certificate from the coroner, and it will go out to you by Federal Express.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Potter said.

“An employee of the man who owned the airplane gave testimony that the airplane and a house were the man’s only possessions, and that he had let his insurance lapse last year. I’m afraid there won’t be anything to go after.”

“I see. You’re certain about this?”