“I would be glad to render this small service as a courtesy to Mrs. Peters,” Stone said.
“You are very kind, sir. Ah…” He paused as if unwilling to mention something. “Mr. Barrington, Libby spoke with me before she left, and I was under the very distinct impression that she expected to realize some financial benefit from the estate of her former husband. Are you aware of any such benefit? Even a modest sum would mean the world to Mrs. Peters.”
Stone winced. “I am aware that there was no mention of the first Mrs. Manning in Paul Manning’s will,” he said, “and that the alimony required by his divorce decree had expired.”
“Yes, I’m afraid that is correct,” Potter said. He sighed deeply. “No bequest, eh?”
“I’m afraid not, but I will raise the subject with Mr. Manning’s widow.”
“Would you? I would be so very grateful. Mrs. Peters’s health is not good, and I’m very much afraid that without her daughter’s help she will be unable to afford to stay in her apartment, and I don’t know where she would go.”
“I’ll speak to Mrs. Manning about it,” Stone said, “and I’ll be in touch with you on my return to New York next week.”
“Good. I won’t mention this to Mrs. Peters until I hear from you; I wouldn’t want to get her hopes up, you know.”
“I understand,” Stone said.
“One other thing, could you learn the name of the insurance company representing the owners of the airplane? If it crashed because of a mechanical problem, Mrs. Peters might be eligible for a payment from the policy.”
Stone was anxious to get off the phone before he was saddled with any other duties. “Yes, yes, I’ll inquire about that.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing from you, then.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Potter.”
Stone hung up and lay back on the bed. It was worse than he could have imagined; and he didn’t know whether Allison would honor her agreement. He went back to work and tried not to think of the old lady at the piano in Palm Beac
h.
Chapter
36
The inquest was held in the same village hall that had been used for the inquest into the death of Paul Manning, the coroner was the same, and the jury was indistinguishable from the first one. The only difference was the absence of Sir Winston Sutherland, who, apparently, could see no political advantage in attending.
Stone and Thomas gave their testimony, and then the mechanic employed by Chester’s air taxi service was called and questioned by the coroner.
“State your name,” the coroner said.
“Harvey Simpson,” the mechanic replied. He was black and appeared to be in his early forties.
“Mr. Simpson, are you a fully qualified aircraft mechanic?”
“Yessir, I am. I done my training in Miami, and I worked in Fort Lauderdale for eight years before I come home to St. Marks.”
“How long had you done mechanical work on Chester Appleton’s airplane?”
“For eleven years.”
“The same airplane?”
“No, sir; Chester bought this one six years ago.”
“Was the airplane in good condition?”
Harvey Simpson straightened in his seat. “Yessir, it certainly was. I did an annual inspection on the airplane last month; I always kept it right up to snuff.”
“What about the port engine?”