Primmy laughed. “No, she was very sweet. I was named after my grandmother’s sister—who had somehow cornered most of the family money—in the hope that she would be good to me in her will. It worked. What do you two do, Grace?”

“I worked abroad for a family business, a machine-tooling company,” Henry Lee said. “I set up offices in various foreign cities and looked for customers.”

“I shopped,” Grace said, “and ran whatever house or flat we were occupying. Once Henry Lee had established relationships in a region, we could move on to another, and he could maintain customer relations by phone and e-mail.”

“Sounds like you two would have been perfect for the CIA,” Primmy said.

Henry Lee didn’t miss a beat. “You’re not the first to have told us that.”

Stone changed the subject. “Primmy, did your ancestors come over on the Mayflower?”

“No, but on the next boat, the following year.”

“Did they bring the accent with them?” Grace asked.

“No, I think that just grew, like Topsy.”

Stone turned to Grace. “Do you know about the history of your new house?”

“Some, I guess.”

“I can give it to you in a nutshell,” Stone said. “I spent a summer in that house when I was eighteen, with my first cousins, Dick and Caleb Stone.”

“Which one fathered the twins?” Grace asked. Stone had sketched a brief history of those two for Primmy’s benefit.

“Caleb. He and I didn’t get along very well, but Dick and I were close. Caleb and I eventually came to blows. At least, I did. His mother banished me from the island forever after that.”

Stone told them about the murders of Dick and his family, and about the twins and what they were suspected of. “Primmy,” he said, “you should steer clear of the twins. They’re buying the old house down near the point. Avoid meeting them, if possible.”

Primmy gave a little shudder. “I certainly will,” she said.

“Perhaps they learned some manners in prison,” Henry Lee ventured.

“I’m more likely to believe they did what all too many criminals do in prison,” Stone said. “They become better criminals.”

They were called to dinner and treated to Mary’s lobster pie, and a couple of bottles of a fine chardonnay from Dick Stone’s cellar.

—

Shortly after they were on cognac, Stone’s phone rang.

“Yes?”

“It’s Rawls. Somebody’s messing around my new neighbors’ place.”

“Shall I join you?”

“Please do.”

Stone hung up. “Henry Lee, one of your neighbors, Ed Rawls, says someone is paying too much attention to your property. Want to join me in having a look?”

“Sure. Grace, you keep the others company, please.”

Grace nodded.

Stone took the old Ford station wagon.

“They’re not wasting any time, are they?” Henry Lee said.

“Nope, and that’s disturbing.”