“No insurance for the mother, either,” Kramer said, jotting down some notes. “Got the mother’s name?”
“Marla Peters; a widow and retired actress.”
“Address?”
“No idea.”
“The lawyer?”
“Harley Potter of Potter and Potter.” He looked at Forrester. “I don’t see you taking any notes, Jim.”
Forrester grinned. “I’ll clip Hilary’s piece; it’ll all be in there. It’ll be no more than a marginal reference in my piece.”
“I guess not,” Stone agreed.
“What was Elizabeth Manning doing down here?” Kramer asked.
“She wanted to know if she was mentioned in Manning’s will. She wasn’t.”
“I heard you and she were looking over some documents in the Shipwright’s Arms,” she said. “What were they?”
“Paul Manning’s will; she wanted to see it.”
“When were they divorced?”
“Something like ten years ago, I think.”
“When were they married?”
“I don’t really know.”
“You’re a font of information, aren’t you?” Kramer said suspiciously. “Is there something you don’t want me to know?”
“Hilary,” Stone said, “why would I keep information from you?”
She was about to reply, but the jury was returning.
The coroner waited for everyone to be seated, then spoke. “Have you gentlemen reached a verdict? If so, read it.”
A man stood up. “We find that Chester Appleton, Alene Sanders, and Elizabeth Allison Manning met their deaths by misadventure,” he said, then sat down.
The coroner rapped sharply on his table. “A verdict of death by misadventure having been found, these proceedings are closed.”
Stone made his way forward and introduced himself to the coroner.
“Oh, yes, Mr. Barrington, I remember you from an earlier inquest.”
“That’s right. A law firm representing the next of kin of Mrs. Elizabeth Manning has asked me to act for them in St. Marks. They have requested a copy of the death certificate, so that Mrs. Manning’s estate may be probated.”
“Of course,” the coroner said. “I’ll give you an original.” He sat down, took a pad of blank certificates from his briefcase, wrote one out, signed it, and handed it to Stone. “There you are,” he said. “Nice that this inquest is so much simpler than the last, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
He smiled a little. “Not as interesting, though.”
Stone smiled with him. “No, I guess it isn’t.” He shook the man’s hand and left the hall. To his relief, the two journalists had disappeared.
Back at the Shipwright’s Arms, a fax was waiting for him.