Dead in the Water (Stone Barrington 3)

“They were written in the first person.”

“In your experience as a police officer, would you say that diaries are generally written in the first person?”

“Generally, I suppose.”

“Are you aware of how Mr. Manning earned his living?”

“Yes, he was a writer.”

“Do you know what his specialty was as a writer?”

“No.”

“We have heard evidence that he was a writer of thrillers and mystery stories. Did you know that?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Have you ever before seen the notes a writer makes before he begins writing a book?”

“No.”

“Can you understand how a writer might write notes and scenes that he might later incorporate into a book?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

“Has it occurred to you that this so-called diary might not be a diary at all, but a collection of notes for Mr. Manning’s next book?”

“Ah, no.”

“Now that you have been enlightened as to a writer’s working habits, don’t you think it possible that the book might be Mr. Manning’s preliminary notes?”

“I suppose it could be,” the captain admitted.

“Is it not likely that the book is his notes?”

Sir Winston was up. “Objection; calls for a conclusion.”

“Your Lordship,” Stone said, “the captain has already reached a quite different conclusion, with the help of Sir Winston, based on no real evidence at all; why can he now not change his mind and possibly reach another conclusion?”

“Overruled,” the judge said. “Answer the question, Captain.”

The officer looked very uncomfortable. “I suppose it might be likely that the book is Mr. Manning’s notes.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Stone said. “No further questions.”

Sir Winston stood up. “Captain Beane, how long have you been a police officer?”

“For twenty-one years,” the officer said, looking grateful to be back on familiar ground.

“Is it, after thorough investigation, your professional opinion that the spear gun might have been used as a murder weapon?”

“Yes, it is,” the captain said, smiling broadly.

“No further questions,” Sir Winston said, sitting down. “The prosecution rests.”

Stone was flooded with elation. He turned to Sir Leslie Hewitt and whispered, “Is that it?”

“It appears to be,” Hewitt whispered back.