“Have you talked with her at length yet?”

“Twice. She’s remarkably open and forthcoming; sometimes I think she doesn’t really have a grasp of what she’s facing.”

“I know what you mean,” Stone said, “and I don’t see how it would help to make her more aware. She’s been told all the facts and the risks, and if she chooses to be in denial, then who’s to say she shouldn’t be? Certainly not I. If her attitude helps her get through this, that’s fine with me.”

“Let me ask you something for the record, Stone, and I’d appreciate the frankest answer you can give me. Your answer won’t appear until well after the trial, and I’ll hold it in confidence until then.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Right now, at this moment, what do you estimate her chances are of getting out of this?”

Stone sighed. “I don’t really know how to answer that. There are so many variables here, most of which I have no control over, that the situation is entirely unpredictable.”

“Do you think there’s really a chance she could hang?”

“Yes, I do.”

“No kidding, really?”

“Really.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Yes.”

“It just doesn’t seem possible that this sort of thing could happen in this day and age. I mean, if she’d fetched up in the United States, she’d be walking around scot free, wouldn’t she?”

“I believe she would. I don’t think a prosecutor could get past a preliminary hearing in the United States. I’d blow him out of the water. With Paul’s medical records, his note-taking habits, your testimony, and above all, with Allison’s testimony, I don’t think any judge would buy a murder charge for a minute. I sometimes wonder what would have happened if she’d fetched up in Antigua or Guadeloupe.”

“I wonder, too.”

The two men sat silently, each contemplating the worst for Allison Manning.

Chapter
25

Stone sat talking with Jim Forrester. As they chatted he saw a taxi pull up outside and a woman get out. She seemed middle-aged, was tall and fashionably thin, and was wearing a wrinkled silk dress and a straw sun hat. The driver got two suitcases out of the trunk, took some money from her, and drove away. Thomas Hardy saw her, too, and went out to help with her bags.

“Well,” Jim Forrester said, “I’m going upstairs for a nap.” He got to his feet. “I think I might be coming down with something.” He ambled off toward the stairs.

Stone watched as Thomas set the woman’s bags down by the bar and reached for the registration book. The woman signed it, then seemed to be asking Thomas some questions. Thomas’s eyebrows suddenly went up, and he beckoned to Stone.