“The St. Marks police went out to the airport after Chester crashed, and they dusted everything, and I mean everything, for fingerprints, and you know what? They found some prints on the tool cabinet in the hangar that don’t match anybody else’s at the airport. I had a phone conversation with Sir Winston Sutherland, and he told me all about it. Of course, they never thought to check the fingerprints of the New Yorker writer, Jim Forrester. So when Dino gets you back to the precinct, he’s going to fingerprint you, and then he’s going to fax your fingerprints to Sir Winston, in St. Marks, and if they match the prints on the tool cabinet—and you and I both know they will—then Sir Winston is going to have a real good case against you for those three homicides. And even if they don’t match, there’s Allison.”

“She isn’t dead, is she?” Manning asked. “Come on, Stone, you know she isn’t.”

“I don’t think Sir Winston will adopt that view, Manning. After all, he convicted her and had her hanged himself.”

Manning looked as if he wanted to run, but now there were two more detectives standing in the driveway.

Stone continued. “You saw how they tried Allison, how they convicted her with hardly any evidence at all. My prediction, Manning, is that before the year is out, you’re going to have your neck stretched in St. Marks.”

Dino motioned the two detectives forward, and they handcuffed Paul Manning. He stared at Stone, apparently speechless.

“Good-bye, Manning,” Stone said. “I’ll be a witness at your trial; I’ll tell the court how you admitted your identity to me and that you told me how you faked your death. Funny thing is, without our conversation today, they might not have been able to prove who you really were. So I’ll see you in St. Marks.” He smiled broadly. “And there won’t be any attorney-client confidentiality.”

The cops put Manning into their car.

“How about some dinner tonight?” Dino asked.

“Absolutely; we’ll celebrate.”

“Elaine’s at eight-thirty?”

“That will be great,” Stone replied.

Alma appeared in the garage. “Is everything all right?”

“Everything is all right,” Stone said.

Late that night, Stone and Dino sat over the remains of their dinner at Elaine’s.

“All in all,” Stone said, “it’s been a very satisfying day.”

“Glad I could help,” Dino said. “That guy from Boston, the insurance dick, was in my office this afternoon. He’s a very happy man.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s going to get at least some of his money back from Allison Manning’s estate.”

“He’d better not count on it.”

“Why not?”

“Because, unless I miss my guess, that money has disappeared into the worldwide banking system and will never be seen again. Allison moved it the day before her trial.”