“Out of college he worked for newspapers, starting in small towns, then working his way up. His last job was on the Miami Herald, before he quit to write full time.” The sound of notebook pages being turned came down the line. “Graduated from Cornell with a degree in journalism; high school in Olean, New York; born and raised there. He was pretty much the all-American boy. Too young for Vietnam, so he was never in the service; won a couple of awards at the Herald; that’s about it for now. I gotta run, Stone; it’s last call for boarding.”

“Get going, then; call me from Las Palmas when you’ve had a chance to pick up some more.” He hung up the phone.

“You getting anywhere?” Thomas asked. “Sorry if I was eavesdropping.”

“No problem. No, I’m not getting anywhere. That was just some background stuff on Paul Manning; nothing of any real help.”

“Chester called a while ago; he’s making special runs starting this afternoon—lots of requests for seats on that little plane of his.”

“Sounds as though the press is heeding our call.”

“Sounds like it.”

“You know, Thomas, I think we might need a little security down at the marina when these people start arriving. I wouldn’t like to let them too near Allison’s yacht; she’s going to need some privacy.”

“Uh-huh,” Thomas replied. “I’ve got two brothers on the police; they could help out and round up enough guys to stake it out around the clock, I imagine. How many you want?”

“Say two at a time, around the clock?”

“Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“How many brothers and sisters have you got, Thomas?”

“Six brothers and four sisters, and a whole bunch of nieces and nephews; I lose count. In those days there was less opportunity in St. Marks; it was before tourism took hold down here. Two more of my brothers left, then came back; the two on the police stayed and did all right. They’re both sergeants.”

“What did the sisters do?”

“They got married and had babies. Everybody’s prosperous, for St. Marks.”

“And you most of all, huh?”

Thomas grinned. “You could say that.” The fax machine rang, and he turned to receive whatever was coming. “Hang on, this is more likely for you than for me.” The machine spat out a single sheet; Thomas glanced at it and handed it to Stone.