“Or her late husband?”
“No. I’d heard of him, though; he was quite a well-known author.”
“Did she seek you out while at sea, then?”
“She didn’t seek me out at all,” Stone replied, sipping more champagne. “I had scheduled my cruise some weeks before the Mannings set sail from the Canaries. And I didn’t know them.”
“No professional connection? No mutual friends who might have referred you to Mrs. Manning?”
“None. I was just sitting on my chartered boat when she sailed in. At that time there was still some hope of my companion joining me.”
“And how did you happen to appear at the coroner’s inquest?”
“I had nothing else to do,” Stone said. “It was the only entertainment available.”
Sir Winston smiled broadly. “Entertainment, eh? I like that: a coroner’s inquest as entertainment.”
“Tell me, Sir Winston, how did you happen to attend the inquest? Wasn’t it perhaps overkill for the minister of justice to participate in such an event?”
“We are a small island, Mr. Barrington,” Sir Winston replied smoothly. “But enough of this chat,” he said, taking a slip of paper from his pocket and unfolding it. “Tell me—who, exactly, is, or perhaps I should say was, Elizabeth Allison Manning?”
Stone took a long swallow of his champagne. Oh, shit, he thought.
Chapter
33
Sir Winston stared across the table at Stone, waiting for an answer. Stone thought fast, but there was not much he could do in the way of obfuscation. Sir Winston had seen him at dinner with Libby Manning and had, no doubt, noticed the passing of documents between them. He decided to follow Mark Twain’s advice: when in doubt, tell the truth.
“Elizabeth Manning was the first wife of Paul Manning,” Stone said.
Sir Winston’s eyebrows went up. “Ahhhh,” he breathed. “Not a sister or a cousin, but an ex-wife?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me, Mr. Barrington, how many ex-wives did Paul Manning have?”
“Just the one, to my knowledge.”
“And what brought the first Mrs. Manning to our beautiful island?”
“Your beautiful island, I expect; and, perhaps, some curiosity about the death of Paul Manning. She’d read about it in the American papers, you see, and she wondered if she could be of any assistance.”
“Ah, yes,” Sir Winston said, an edge in his voice. “It seems a great many people read about Mr. Manning’s death in the American papers. I have heard from a number of them, including Senators Dodd and Lieberman of Connecticut.”
“Yes, I believe Mr. Manning was a very substantial contributor to the Democratic Party,” he lied, “and a personal friend of the President and Mrs. Clinton.” The champagne was taking effect now, and he had trouble keeping a straight face.
“Indeed?”
“Yes, I’ve heard that the president is an avid reader of Mr. Manning’s books.” He stopped himself from adding that Paul Manning was also an investor in the Whitewater real estate venture and a financial advisor to the First Lady.
Sir Winston cleared his throat loudly. “To return to the first Mrs. Manning, what business did you and she discuss during her visit?”
Stone wondered if, somehow, Libby’s copy of the agreement had been found. “Sir Winston,” he said, “I am sure you understand that I am bound by the confidentiality strictures of the attorney-client relationship, but I think it would not be untoward for me to tell you that Elizabeth Manning, who was not a wealthy woman, had some notion of participating in her former husband’s estate. He had been paying alimony to her during the past ten years, a requirement of their divorce decree which had recently expired.”
“And did she participate in Mr. Manning’s estate?”
“Elizabeth Manning was disappointed to learn that she had not been mentioned in Mr. Manning’s will, and, the requirement for alimony having expired, she was entitled to nothing further.”