Dead in the Water (Stone Barrington 3)

“Libby; please call me Libby; everyone does.”

“Libby, do you still live in Miami?”

“No, I live in Palm Beach. Well, near Palm Beach.”

“And you never remarried?”

“Never.”

“What sort of work do you do, Libby?”

“I write a society column for a local paper in Palm Beach. Doesn’t pay very much, really, but it gets me to all the parties.”

“So you live on the monthly check from Paul?”

“That’s right. Only it didn’t arrive this month, and when I saw the papers, I knew why. I called the lawyer in Miami, but he said he had received nothing from Paul’s office this month. So I figured I’d better get down here and take charge of things.”

“I see.”

“You’re a lawyer, right?”

“Yes, in New York.”

“Well, I guess I’m going to need a lawyer. You want to handle this for me?”

“I’m afraid I’m otherwise engaged,” Stone said.

“Then I’ll just have to find somebody else, I guess.”

“Mrs. Manning…ah, Libby, I’m afraid that getting a lawyer in St. Marks won’t help you in dealing with Paul’s estate. As I said, that is being handled in Connecticut, in Greenwich.”

She stared at him blankly. “You want me to go to Connecticut?” she demanded.

“It’s not a matter of what I want, and I don’t want you to think that I’m giving you legal advice, which I’m not, but it seems logical that the solution to your problem, if there is a solution, is not in St. Marks.” He wanted desperately for her to be anywhere else in the world but St. Marks.

“Well, shit,” she said disgustedly.

“I take your point.”

She stood up. “Right now,” she said, “I’m going to get into a hot bath, and after I’ve had some dinner and a good night’s sleep I think I might just get a second opinion on what you’ve told me.”

Stone stood up. “If there’s anything else I can do…”

“I thought the gist of what you told me was that there’s nothing you can do,” she said.

“That’s pretty much it,” he admitted, trying desperately to think of something to say to her that might make her go back to Palm Beach.

“Well, tomorrow’s another day, and then I guess I’ll see what I can find out about this murder trial. Who’s the DA?”

“It’s being handled by the, ah, local government,” he replied.

“Right. I guess I can talk to them. See you around, Stone.” She picked up her purse and headed for the stairs.

Stone went straight to the bar, picked up the phone, and dialed Bob Cantor’s number.

“Problems?” Thomas asked, ambling over.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Stone replied. He got Cantor’s answering machine. “Bob,” he said, “you mentioned earlier that Paul Manning had been divorced in Florida. Do whatever you have to do to find a copy of the decree and fax it to me at the earliest possible moment, please. I’ve got another Allison Manning on my hands.” He hung up.