“If you demand more, Allison will fight you, and she’s the one with all the money. All you have to do is sign both copies of that document, have Thomas witness it, then go upstairs, get a good night’s sleep, and take the first plane back to Miami tomorrow morning. The reservation has already been made.”

Still, she hesitated.

“The money can be in your bank account within three business days, if you ask your bank to rush it.”

“Suppose Allison gets hanged next week? What then?”

“The money’s still yours. But if she hangs and you sue her estate, then you’ll have to fight Allison’s heirs, and they’re going to care even less about you than she does. At least she’s trying to do the right thing, even though she doesn’t have to.”

Libby Manning stood up and walked over to the bar, clutching the documents, with Stone right behind her. “Thomas,” she said, “will you witness my signature, please?”

“Of course,” Thomas said, watching her sign the documents, then signing them himself.

She handed Stone his copy and tucked her copy and the check into her handbag. “What time is the first flight out tomorrow morning?” she asked him.

“Chester flies at eight o’clock sharp. Would you like me to drive you to the airport?”

“Thank you, yes,” she said. She held out her hand to Stone and shook his. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Barrington,” she said, then she turned and marched upstairs.

Thomas looked at Stone. “I take it the matter is settled?”

“It is. Call Chester and get her on that plane, no matter who he has to throw off.”

“Right.”

“And kill her telephone; I don’t want her talking to anybody tonight. Oh, and send her a bottle of good champagne on me; I want her to sleep well.”

Thomas smiled broadly. “Right.”

Stone walked toward the door. As he did, Sir Winston Sutherland smiled at him and raised a hand. Stone smiled broadly and returned his salute. Then he glanced out of the restaurant toward the marina and saw something he did not wish to see. Allison was walking fast across the lawn toward the inn, her arms pumping, and she had an angry and determined look on her face. Stone, without actually running, went to head her off.

He met her thirty yards from the inn and grabbed her arm, spinning her around. He tucked her arm in his and started steering her back toward the marina.

“Let go of me!” she erupted, struggling to free her arm.

“Shut up, Allison, and keep walking toward the boat,” he said through clenched teeth.

She continued to struggle. “I’m not giving that bitch a thin dime!” she hissed. “Let go of my arm!”

“Allison, you and I cannot have a wrestling match on the lawn; Sir Winston Sutherland is up there having dinner with his wife. Don’t make a scene!”