“I wish it were,” Stone said. “And before you go, I think I should enlighten you a little about the system of justice as it exists on St. Marks—all off the record, of course. If you should quote me, it might react to Allison’s detriment.”

“Sure, off the record. Shoot.”

When he had finished, her mouth was hanging open. “Is there someplace I can get a room for the night?” she asked, finally.

Thomas spoke up. “I have some rooms upstairs,” he said. “We had some cancellations because of the snowstorm in New York.”

“Great,” she said. “Can I borrow that car now?”

“Sure.”

“And where can I pick up a toothbrush?”

“There are shops all around Government House.”

“I’d like to call my office, too.”

“There’s a phone on the bar, or in your room,” Thomas replied.

Kramer produced a camera from her bag. “I’d like to get some pictures of both of you,” she said, beginning to snap them. “Does Federal Express know about this island?”

“They do,” Thomas said. “They’ll pick up from here; delivery will likely take two days, though.”

“Shit,” she said. “Allison, are there any pictures of you floating around New York?”

“Paul’s agent has one of the two of us together,” Allison replied. “Her name is Anne Sibbald; she’s at Janklow and Nesbit.”

“Know them well,” Kramer said, continuing to photograph. “I’ll call them right now. Thomas, will you lead the way to my room?”

“Right this way,” Thomas replied.

When they had gone Allison turned to Stone. “Did that go well?”

“I think it could hardly have gone better.”

“She’s suspicious of you and me, though; woman’s intuition. We’d better be very correct around her.”

“We’d better be very correct everywhere, except in bed,” Stone replied. “I’d suggest we give up sex for the duration, but I don’t think I could stick to that.”

She smiled. “Neither could I.”

“Stop smiling at me that way,” he said, looking around.

The smile disappeared. “I’ll be very correct,” she said.

Chapter
14

Stone had just finished his breakfast when Thomas waved at him from the bar and held up the phone. “Call for you from New York; fellow named Cantor. You want to take it here or upstairs?”

“I’ll take it down here,” Stone said, crossing to the bar and picking up the phone. “Bob?”

“Yeah, Stone.”

“I thought you’d be on your way to the Canaries.”

“I’m calling from Kennedy Airport; this morning was the first flight I could make and still do your legwork in the city.”

“What did you find out?”

“Almost nothing about Allison Manning, but quite a bit about her husband.”

“Shoot.”

“First, Allison; she went to some New England women’s college, then worked in advertising, then she met Paul Manning, and they got married.”

“That much she’s told me; anything else?”