Dead in the Water (Stone Barrington 3)

“But what?”

“There was a moment when I thought he might be a cop,” Thomas said, “but after I talked with him a while, I didn’t think so anymore.”

“What did he want to talk about?”

“Allison, the trial, the press, anything he could find out. He was really pumping me.”

“And you still don’t think he could be a cop.”

“A cop would have done it differently,” Thomas said. “More subtly. This guy just charged straight ahead.”

“You think he’s just an interested tourist?”

“He doesn’t feel like a tourist, either.”

“What does he feel like?”

“I think he’s got an agenda, but I’m damned if I know what it is. Besides, what would an American cop be doing down here?”

“I don’t think I ever saw a cop wear a seersucker suit,” Stone said.

“Me neither.”

“What sort of luggage did he have?”

“Hartmann leather, a suitcase and a briefcase, matching.”

“That doesn’t sound like a cop, either; too expensive. That’s a businessman’s luggage.”

“I would have thought so.”

Stone shrugged. “Well, I guess businessmen take vacations.”

“Usually with their wives; he’s alone.”

“Bachelor? Divorced?”

“I guess he could be.”

Frank Stendahl reappeared, wearing casual clothes, exposing pasty white arms. “Think I’ll walk down to the marina and have a look at the boats,” he said to no one in particular.

Stone and Thomas watched him as he strolled across the lawn and came to a stop at the marina gate, confronted by the two police officers on guard there. He chatted with them for a minute or so, then turned and walked back toward the inn. Halfway, he changed his mind and walked back toward the water at an angle chosen to take him to the harbor’s edge beyond the marina. A moment later, he disappeared around a point of land.

“Where will that walk take him?” Stone asked.

“To the mouth of the harbor, eventually,” Thomas replied.

“I’ve got some work to do upstairs,” Stone said. “If he comes back, see what you can find out about him, will you?”

“Sure, glad to. You think he’s up to no good, Stone?”

“Right now, all I think is that he’s a tourist, like he says; maybe the sort of guy who turned up at the O. J. Simpson trial. I can’t think of any other reason for him to be here, can you?”

Thomas shrugged.

“See you later.” Stone hopped off his barstool and headed upstairs. After what he’d been through with the press, Stendahl didn’t seem to be much of a threat.

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