Stone walked quickly inside and looked around. No one was in sight. “Hello!” he called out.
“In here,” came a man’s voice through the living room and to his left. Stone followed the sound and arrived in the study. Shames and Liz, who appeared to be unharmed, and a man in a police officer’s uniform with stars on the shoulders stood in the center of the room, which was a mess. All the pictures on the mantel had been swept onto the floor, a large mirror on one wall had been shattered and much of the furniture had been overturned, reducing some small porcelain figurines to shards.
“What’s happened?” Stone asked.
“We’re not sure,” Shames replied. “Stone, this is Chief Dan Griggs of the Palm Beach Police Department. Chief, this is my and Mrs. Harding’s attorney, Stone Barrington.”
The chief offered his hand. “I thought I knew all the attorneys in town,” he said. “Good to meet you, Mr. Barrington.”
Stone shook the man’s hand. “And you, Chief. I’m based in New York; that’s why we haven’t met. What’s happened here tonight?”
Shames spoke up. “Liz and I arrived to find the front door open and the place a mess.”
“The whole place? The living room looked all right.”
“I’ve had a look around,” the chief said. “This is the only room that was disturbed.”
“Anything missing?” Stone asked.
Liz spoke up. ?
?I can’t find anything gone, just broken.”
“What about the door? Was it forced?”
Griggs shook his head. “Either it wasn’t locked, or somebody had a key.”
“I’m afraid it may not have been locked,” Liz said sheepishly. “I tend to forget. Anyway, Chief Griggs and his men take such good care of us all that it hardly seems necessary.”
“I thank you, Mrs. Harding,” the chief said, obviously pleased, “but we’d really prefer you to lock your doors.”
“I’ll make a point of it from now on.”
“So this is vandalism?” Stone asked.
“Looks that way to me,” Griggs replied. “Nothing taken, only this room messed up; nothing else to call it.”
“Chief, have you had other incidents like this in town?”
Griggs shook his head. “We might get some spray paint on a building or a bridge sometimes—teenagers, you know—but I can’t recall an incident of vandalism in a private home, unless it was connected to a burglary.”
“No known perpetrators of this sort of thing around town?”
“None in our files.”
“Chief, why don’t you and I take a walk through the house. Liz, Thad, will you excuse us for a couple of minutes?”
“Of course,” they said together.
Stone and the chief left the room, and Stone led him toward the stairs. “Let’s take a look up here.”
Griggs followed him, but at the top, stopped. “I’ve already walked through here with Mrs. Harding,” he said.
“I know,” Stone replied, “but I wanted to make you aware of a situation.”
“Go right ahead,” Griggs said.
“Mrs. Harding was formerly married to a man named Paul Manning, a well-known writer. Her name was Allison Manning, at the time.”