“It’s Eggers.”

“Morning, Bill. I’m just packing for the return trip.”

“Unpack,” Eggers said. “You’re back on my dime.”

“What’s up?”

“Warren Keating’s attorney just called me. Early this morning, his housekeeper arrived and found him dead in his kitchen, shot in the head.”

“Suicide?”

“The lawyer didn’t have any other details.”

“This just gets weirder and weirder,” Stone said.

“Yes, it does. I want to know what’s going on, and I want you to find out for me. Take another week if you need to.”

“At my usual hourly rate?”

“I’ll spring for a generous flat rate. We’ll talk it over when you get home.”

“Okay, Bill. I’ll be in touch.” Stone hung up and walked out onto the front porch, where Dino was drinking a second cup of coffee.

“Ready for the latest?” Stone asked.

“Always.”

“Warren Keating has died from a gunshot to the head.”

“His own or somebody else’s?”

“That’s what I want you to find out. Call your buddy on the Connecticut State Police.”

Dino dialed the number and pressed the speaker phone button.

“Robbery Homicide, Lieutenant Dan Hotchkiss.”

“Dan, it’s Dino.”

“You again?”

“Me again. I heard about Warren Keating.”

“Are you still in Key West?”

“Yes. News travels fast in this modern age.”

“I want to know how you heard about it. The media don’t know yet.”

“Keating’s lawyer called a lawyer I know, who called the lawyer I’m down here with. I am not a suspect.”

“You are until I say you aren’t.”

“All I know is that he was shot in the head. Was it a suicide?”

“If it was, he managed to hide the gun after he was dead. Oh, and he removed a pane from the kitchen window so he could shoot himself through it without scattering glass everywhere and making a lot of noise. A very neat fellow, Mr. Keating. Quick on his feet, too.”

“So the shooter removed the window and popped him from outside?”

“From the azalea bed behind the house. We found some impressions, but nothing so good as to give us a usable footprint. He cleaned up his brass, too, though it was only one shell. Clean shot to the left temple.”

“Anybody hear a gunshot?”

“No, and it was dinnertime, so somebody in the neighborhood should have noticed. My guess is a silencer was used.”

“Any other evidence?”

“Some tire tracks at a lot next door that was otherwise pretty clean, since a bulldozer had scraped it for a building site. Pirelli 210 snow tires that can be driven year round—expensive. The nearest Mercedes dealer is the only place anywhere around here who stocks them.”