“Maybe,” she said doubtfully.
“Well, if they were in the country, there’d be signs that they’re living there.”
“Maybe,” she said again.
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I don’t know what to think.”
“Go for the simple explanation: neither Pemberton nor Weatherby is on the island.”
“Nor Robertson.”
“Can we go back to the inn and have dinner now?”
“I guess.”
At the bottom of Black Mountain Road, Stone turned toward the inn. “Holly,” he said, “if you say Robertson is not Teddy, and neither Pemberton nor Weatherby is on the island, and if Teddy killed Croft, then neither Pemberton nor Weatherby could be Teddy. Or more likely, Teddy didn’t kill Croft, somebody else did.”
“Depressing, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Not really. If you think about it, the best possible outcome of this little jaunt would be that Teddy isn’t on St. Marks, that he has never been on St. Marks.”
“That’s what depresses me,” she said.
“It shouldn’t. Lance is just dying to be told that Teddy isn’t here. That would get him off the hook with the director, wouldn’t it?”
“I guess.”
“Oh, I get it: you were hoping to cuff Teddy and deliver him to Lance with a big red bow on him.”
“Something like that.”
“Well, at least if Teddy isn’t here, you won’t have to kill him.”
“What makes you think I would kill him, if he were here? I don’t even have a gun.”
“You’re a trained killer; you don’t need a gun.”
“Well, what makes you think I would slip a stiletto into him, or garrote him? I’m not an assassin.”
“If we find Teddy, that’s what Lance is going to ask you to do-or, more likely, order you to do.”
“I won’t.”
“So you’ll just tell Lance to stick Teddy up his ass?”
“I don’t know.”
“Or resign from the Agency?”
“I don’t know; I’ll think about that when I have to.”
“You’d better think about it now. My advice is, tell Lance that Pemberton and Weatherby are not here, and you think somebody besides Teddy killed Croft.”
“But what if I don’t think that?”
“You’d better start reflecting on the consequences of not thinking that,” Stone said.