Dead in the Water (Stone Barrington 3)

“Oh, I almost forgot: Bob Cantor is going to call you in a minute about some travel arrangements. Get him on a plane tonight, if possible, and give him a thousand dollars in cash for expenses. Anything else he needs, get it for him, all right?”

“All right.”

Stone hung up. He felt a little better now that he was actually doing something about the mess he was in. He went back downstairs just as Allison was saying good-bye to the businessman.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“An investigator from Paul’s insurance company. If we need any cash for legal expenses, it’ll be in my bank account in Greenwich shortly.”

“Good; we ought to give Leslie Hewitt his fee up front; it’s usual in this kind of case.”

“He’s such a sweet old man,” she said. “I just loved him.”

“Yeah,” Stone said. “Allison,” he said, taking her arm and leading her to a table, “you and I have to talk, and right now.”

“Sure,” she said. “You’re looking pretty grim.”

“I’m feeling pretty grim, and I’m going to tell you why.” He pulled out a chair for her and sat her down, then took a deep breath and started in.

Chapter

11

Stone sat her down and talked to her. “I don’t have time to be gentle about this or pull any punches, so here’s your position as I see it. This Sir Winston Sutherland has it in for you, apparently because he thinks it will help him politically. He somehow engineered an open verdict in the coroner’s jury, which gave him a legal basis for charging you with Paul’s murder. Now you’re going to be tried, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“Surely any reasonable jury will acquit me,” Allison said. “I don’t really have anything to worry about, do I?”

“Allison, I don’t know if we’re going to have a reasonable jury. The judge picks the panel, and no objection from me is going to stand; the jury may be all or mostly black, and they may or may not be more likely to convict a white person, I don’t know. All I know is that this is a capital offense.”

“You mean I could get the death penalty?”

“Yes, and the way things apparently work on this island, if you’re convicted there’s no other penalty you could expect to get.”

Allison stared at him, her mouth open. “Are you serious?” she managed to ask.

“Perfectly serious. What’s more, there’s no lengthy appeals process available; the only appeal is to the prime minister, and he apparently acts on appeals very quickly.”

“How quickly are we talking about?”

“The appeal must be lodged within twenty-four hours after the trial ends, and he normally acts on it within twenty-four hours after that.”

“Let’s look at the worst case,” she said. “I’m tried on Monday—how long is that likely to last?”

“The way things are done here, no more than a day, possibly two.”

“Then if I’m convicted on Monday, the appeal has to be filed on Tuesday, and the prime minister would either grant or deny it on Wednesday. If he denies it, then I would be…How do they do it?”

“Hanging.”

“I could be hanged…when?”

“The day after the prime minister acts.”

She swallowed hard. “So by a week from Thursday I could be dead?”

“Worst case.”

She put her elbows on the table and her face in her hands. “What can we do?”