Dark Harbor (Stone Barrington 12)

“The two women were sleeping in Esme’s room and took two shots in the head, each. Dick was sitting at his desk downstairs and suffered a contact wound to the left temple.”

“Dick was right-handed,” Lance said.

“You’re sure?”

“I worked for him for four years.”

“Seth said that he had a very small pistol with a silencer in his hand when he was found.”

“Sounds like a Keltec .380; it’s one of a number of handguns issued by Agency technical services.”

“Do you have any insight into Dick’s state of mind the past few weeks?”

“I spoke to his deputy, who’s replacing him in London. He said Dick was his usual cheerful self, and he was excited about the new job. He said that he’d had a farewell dinner with Dick and Barbara the night before they left London, and they were in great form.”

Dino spoke up. “Is anybody ready to say this wasn’t a murder-suicide yet?”

“Let’s talk to the trooper first,” Stone said.

AFTER LUNCH THEY went into the study. Lance pointed at a door near Dick’s desk, which sported a dead-bolt lock. “I think I know what that is,” he said. “Let’s find a key.”

Stone fished Dick’s keys out of his pocket and found one that fit the lock. He opened the door to find what appeared to be a small office, containing a computer, a large fax machine and an odd-looking telephone, along with a filing cabinet. “This is strange,” Stone said.

“No, it isn’t. Dick spent a month or so here every year, and this is Agency equipment. The computer is linked to the Agency mainframe, and the phone and fax are scrambled.”

“I take it you know how to use such a computer?”

“Ida”

“Do you think you could get me some background on Caleb Stone?”

Lance sat down at the computer. “Sure.”

“I’d particularly like a credit report and any other financial information you can dig up. Also, any criminal record.”

“Give me a couple of minutes,” Lance said, switching on the machine. He picked up the scrambled phone and dialed a number. “Give me your supervisor,” he said. “This is Lance Cabot. I’m authorized by the DDO to conduct an investigation into the death of Richard Stone; that office will confirm. I’m at Stone’s Maine residence now, using his scrambled phone and his computer. I want to use my own access card in the computer. Thank you.” Lance hung up. “It’ll be a few minutes while the necessary checks and setup are done.”

“Let’s lock up this room, then; the trooper will be here soon, and I doubt if you want him looking in here.” He locked the room, and they sat down to wait.

“This is a beautiful house, Stone,” Holly said. “You’re lucky to have it.”

“I haven’t gotten used to the idea yet,” Stone replied. “It’s all very strange. Most of my mother’s and father’s families haven’t spoken to them since long before I was born, and yet I’ve inherited two houses from my mother’s side of the family. The Turtle Bay town house came from my great aunt, who took an interest in me. She also gave my father his first large commission: the cabinet work and much of the furniture for the house. And now there’s this place. The strange thing is, if I’d built it myself it would be exactly as it is. The whole thing is spooky.”

The doorbell rang, and Mabel answered it. A moment later, she showed a uniformed sergeant of the Maine State Police into the study. Stone introduced himself and the others.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Barrington?”

“I am Richard Stone’s first cousin, his attorney, and the executor of his will. I’d like to know as much as possible about the circumstances of his death.”

“The local constable called my office in Belfast two days ago and said that the caretaker here had found the owner and his wife and daughter dead in the house, apparently shot. I and a crime-scene investigator choppered over here, and when we got to the house we found the wife and daughter in the same bed upstairs with two bullets in each of their heads. We found Mr. Stone’s body at the desk with a wound to the head and a small pistol in his hand.

“We fingerprinted the corpses and had them removed to the Belfast morgue for postmortem examination. We dusted the study and the upstairs bedroom and found only the fingerprints of the occupants and the housekeeper. There were no fingerprints of any other person in the house. The place was locked, and there was no sign of an intruder.

“In the absence of any evidence to the contrary, I judged the circumstances to be murder-suicide, possibly while the mind of the perpetrator was disturbed. I removed the weapon to our offices for ballistic comparison with the bullets removed from the bodies.”

“I notice that the bullet that killed Mr. Stone passed through his head and lodged in the desk.”

“Yes, we were able to extricate that. It will be of less use than the ones removed from the two women, but I think that my preliminary conclusion will be confirmed: that the weapon in Mr. Stone’s hand was both the murder and suicide weapon.”