“Bright, charming, funny. I liked her immediately, just as I did Paul.”
“How much time did you spend with them?”
“It was late afternoon, and they invited me to stay aboard for dinner. Allison cooked some steaks on an outdoor grill, off the stern, and we drank a couple of bottles of good California cabernet.”
“What time did you leave?”
“Must have been close to ten o’clock. I was staying in a hotel in town, and I had an early-morning flight back to New York; I wanted to get some sleep.”
“Think back: What was your impression of t
heir relationship?”
“Warm, affectionate; they shared a sense of humor. They seemed to like each other a lot.”
“Were they in love?”
“Yeah, I guess they were. I remember I admired how well they got along, especially after spending several months together on a boat. That kind of intense, long-term proximity has ruined more than one relationship.”
“Did you ever see them again?”
“Yeah, briefly; when I got back to my hotel there was a message from New York saying they wanted some more shots on Grand Canary, then some on the Canaries island of Puerto Rico. I stayed on in Las Palmas for another day, then flew down to Puerto Rico in the late afternoon of the day after that.”
“Did you know they’d be there?”
“They might have mentioned it, but it didn’t register. Next time I saw them, I was standing on a stone jetty on the south side of the island, and they motored past on the boat, heading for Antigua. I yelled to them, and they waved back and said they were sorry they missed me, then they were gone.”
“What was their mood at that moment?”
“Jubilant, like they were glad to be getting back to sea. They were laughing, I remember; he said something to her that I couldn’t hear, then she laughed and slapped him on the ass.”
“Jim, will you testify to all this at her trial?”
The writer shrugged. “Sure, if you think it will help.”
“I think it just might help; you were apparently the last person besides Allison to see Paul Manning alive.”
“Glad to do it.”
“One more question, Jim, just between you and me: Do you think that Allison is the sort of person who could have killed Paul?”
Forrester looked astonished. “Of course not. Well, I guess anybody could kill anybody under the right circumstances, but I would bet the farm she had nothing to do with his death. Absolutely nothing I saw in their relationship would indicate that.”
“Good,” Stone said, relieved to have an objective opinion that reinforced his own. “I’ll ask you some form of that question under oath.”
“And I’ll give you the same answer.”
Chapter
16
The rest of the 60 Minutes crew arrived at dusk, and Stone had dinner with Jake Burrows and his reporter, Chris Wheaton. They met at the bar of the Shipwright’s Arms, got a drink, and found a table. Stone looked over the reporter: she was small, intense, as blond as Allison, and handsome rather than pretty. He thought she would look very good on camera.
“Allison asked to be excused from dinner,” Stone told her. “She says she needs a good night’s sleep.”
“That’s okay,” Wheaton said, “I don’t want to meet her until we’re on camera; the interview will be fresher that way. Has Jake told you how we’re going to work this?”
Stone shook his head. “We made some ground rules about the air date and the segment, but that’s it; you can ask her anything you want.”