“And it especially doesn’t mean he can get away with it. Billy Hotchkiss, you, and I all tracked him down in a matter of a couple of hours. How long do you think it would take the real police?”

“You have a point.”

“He certainly does,” Dino said.

“And all that academic and military training—all that financial success—will be for naught. He’ll spend the rest of his days in prison.”

“And yet, the Stone twins are walking around, free as the air they breathe.”

“Yeah, but they’re insane; Smith Peterson is as sane as you or I, maybe saner.”

“So what are we going to do about it?”

“There’s no ‘we’ in this, just you. You’re going to have to have a chat with Smith Peterson and talk him down.”

53

When Stone got home he called Billy Hotchkiss.

“Hey, Stone.”

“Billy, do you know if Smith Peterson is on the island right now?”

“No, but I can call him for you.”

“Would you ask him to come and see me at the earliest possible moment?”

“Sure. See you later.” Billy hung up.

—

Ten minutes later, the phone rang. “Hello?”

“Stone, it’s Smith Peterson.”

“Hi, Smith. Are you on the island?”

“Yes, we’re at the inn. We’re about to go over to the house and measure some things.”

“Could I meet you there? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.”

“Sure. We’ll be there in a quarter of an hour. See you then.” He hung up.

—

Stone was approaching the house when he saw the Petersons pull into the driveway ahead of him. He got out and strolled over to the porch. Coco went inside, and Smith pointed to a chair. “Have a seat.”

Stone sat down. “I see you’ve got a long gun in your car.”

“A Remington deer rifle, thirty-ought six.”

“I don’t know if you’re aware that hunting is prohibited on the island.”

“I do know now, but I didn’t when I was deciding to bring the rifle. I expect I can find somewhere on the mainland that I could bag a buck.”

“I’d recommend a place, if I knew one.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Smith, you and I need to have an intimate chat, one more personal than either of us might be comfortable with.”

Smith’s brow wrinkled. “Okay, what’s on your mind?”

“You are the brother of a former occupant of this home, Grace Jackson, who was murdered here along with her husband.”

Smith did not reply.

“Do you know what Henry Lee Jackson did for a living?”

“He was a civil servant of some sort, I believe.”

“Does your knowledge of him go any further than that? He was, after all, your brother-in-law.”