Dead in the Water

by Stuart Woods

  “We went to college in nearby towns—he to Cornell, I to Syracuse.”

  “Spell it out for them; say Cornell University and Syracuse University in New York State.”

  “Okay.”

  “Go on.”

  “We were both members of the same fraternity, Sigma Alpha Epsilon, and we had an interfraternity basketball league that included both universities.”

  “Just say club, and don’t bother with the Greek; this jury isn’t likely to know much about American college fraternities. In fact, just say you played in the same league.”

  “Right. Paul Manning and I both played on basketball teams, and we sometimes played against each other.”

  “And how well did you know him?”

  “Fairly well, but we were not close.”

  “Just say fairly well, don’t say you weren’t close. Sir Winston may worm that out of you on cross-examination, though. Don’t lie about it.”

  “Right. I knew him fairly well.”

  “How would you describe his personality?”

  “He was friendly and outgoing. We got along well.”

  “Did there then pass a number of years when you did not meet?”

  “Yes; I didn’t meet him again until recently.”

  “Please tell the court of those circumstances.”

  “I was in the Canary Islands, working on a magazine piece, and I met him at the local marina.”

  “Not the yacht club?”

  “Right, the yacht club; it has its own marina.”

  “Start again.”

  “I ran into him at the bar at the yacht club in Las Palmas, and we renewed our acquaintance.”

  “Had he changed much in the years since you’d seen him?”

  “Well, he’d gained a lot of weight, but he was still the same friendly guy.”

  “Did he mention his wife while you were at the bar?”

  “Yes, he said he was married to a beautiful girl that he was crazy about.”

  “You didn’t mention that before,” Stone said. “That he was crazy about her.”

  “Sorry; there were words to that effect.”

  “Good, that will help. Now, how much time did you spend with him on this occasion, at the yacht club bar?”

  “We were there an hour or so, and then he invited me to dinner on his yacht.”

  “Did you accept?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did you then go down to the marina and have dinner on his yacht.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he introduce you to Mrs. Manning?”

  “Yes. She was already on the yacht, cooking dinner.”

  “How long did you spend with them that evening?”

  “Oh, I guess four or five hours.”

  “And on that occasion did you form an opinion of the sort of relationship these two people had?”

  “Yes.”

  “How would you describe that relationship?”

  “They were good together; they obviously loved each other. They touched each other a lot, and always with affection.”

  “Good, I like that, the part about the touching; remember to say it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Would you say these people were happily married?”

  “Yes, I would. Very happily.”

  “And how long was it before they sailed across the Atlantic?”

  “I believe they sailed the next day for another island, then started across the Atlantic the day after that.”

  “Did you see them again?”

  “Yes. I went to another island called Puerto Rico, and I happened to see them as they sailed out of the harbor into the Atlantic.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “Yes, they waved and shouted good-bye.”

  “Were they in good spirits?”

  “Yes, they were laughing and smiling.”

  “Did they still seem to be the happy couple you had met only two days before?”

  “Very much so. They were holding hands.”

  “Great!” Stone said. “I like that as a memory to leave the jury with.”

  “What do you think Sir Winston will ask me on cross?”

  “Oh, he may play up the fact that you didn’t know them intimately. I can’t think what else he might ask you. He may not cross-examine at all.”

  “Good. The sooner I’m off the stand, the better.”

  Stone stood up. “Don’t worry about it, you’ll do fine. I’ve got to go over Allison’s testimony with her.”

  “See you later, then.”

  Stone walked down to the marina, greeted the two policemen on guard, and boarded Expansive.

  “That you, Stone?” Allison called from the aft cabin.

  “It’s me.”

  She came into the saloon, wearing her usual tight shorts and shirt tied under her breasts.

  She couldn’t be a murderer, he thought; she just couldn’t be.

  “Are we going over my testimony?”

  “Ready when you are.”

  “Would you like a beer?”

  “Sure, why not.”

  She went to the fridge and got them both a cold bottle of Heineken.

  Stone remembered that he had a fax in his pocket. He pulled it out, opened the envelope, and unfolded the sheet of paper. He thought it was odd that Thomas had put the fax in an envelope; he had never done that before. He read the letter.

  “Stone,” Allison said, concern in her voice, “what’s wrong? You look awful.”

  He felt more numb than awful. He handed her the fax.

  Chapter

  44

  Stone took the fax from Allison and read it again, slowly this time, letting the words sink in, trying to make some sense of it. He might have seen this coming, he thought, but he hadn’t; it was a bigger surprise than he was ready for.

  Palm Springs

  Dear Stone,

  I didn’t want to write this letter. When I saw what was happening, I wanted to sit down with you and tell you, face to face. Circumstances prevented that, of course, and I’m sorry. This letter will have to do.

  Vance and I were married yesterday in Needles, Arizona. We flew there in Vance’s airplane, just the two of us, and a justice of the peace performed a simple ceremony, with his wife and daughter as witnesses. Then we flew here, to Palm Springs, where Vance has a house. We’ll spend our honeymoon here, and we hope the press won’t discover us.

  I can’t explain to you how this happened, but it did. I had always liked Vance, and during the time we spent together working on the New Yorker profile, I fell in love with him.

  You might wonder how I could so quickly fall in love with another man when you and I have been so close, living together these past months. I wonder, too. I think I was more vulnerable to someone else than I had been willing to admit to myself. Although it wasn’t a conscious thought, I think I had come to know that you would have the greatest difficulty making a permanent commitment to me, and I know now that permanence is what I wanted most. I had meant to talk seriously with you about this while we were on the sailing trip to St. Marks, to see if we could work through it. I dreaded bringing it up, hoping for a long time that you would do so. When you didn’t, I planned to make the try.

  But fate and the weather were against us, and I have to admit to you that when I couldn’t go, I felt relieved. I think that later, if I had thought you were pining away for me, I would have gone, but then you became involved in the Allison Manning business, and I knew from what I read in the press and saw on television that you had your hands full.

  I want children, and Vance does, too; that’s a big part of this. But I’m making it sound logical and carefully planned when, really, it was entirely spontaneous, growing day after day, until it overwhelmed us both. The only flaw in my happiness is that I could not resolve my relationship with you before this happened. I certainly did not wish to cause you pain.

  I know you have your own very independent life to live and over the long haul, I know that I coul
dn’t have fit into it without changing the things I loved about you most—your spontaneity, your love of your life, and your singularity as a man.

  I hope that you and I can remain friends, and that you can wish Vance and me well. We truly are deliriously happy. After some time has passed, and when we’re in New York again, I’ll call you, and perhaps we can have lunch and talk about things. Vance was very impressed with you when you met, and he would like to know you better.

  I hope this time hasn’t been too bad for you and that you get that poor woman off. From what I’ve heard she is so obviously innocent and those people down there are prosecuting her for their own ends. I know you’ll do your very considerable best.

  Until I see you again, I remain your good friend and feel nothing but affection and admiration for you.

  Arrington

  Stone folded the letter and put it into his pocket.

  “Are you all right?” Allison asked. “You look as though you’ve had the wind knocked out of you.”

  “I suppose I have,” Stone replied. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this.”

  Allison sat down beside him and took his hand in hers. “I’m sorry you’re hurt, but you really should have seen it coming. I did.”

  Stone looked at her, incredulous. “You did? How could you? You hardly knew anything about it.”

  “I knew just enough to read the signs. No girl who was really in love would have passed up a week in St. Marks with you, not even for Vance Calder. You’re really not very perceptive about women, you know.”

  “Well, if I didn’t know that, I do now,” he said, sighing.

  She went to the bar and mixed him a rum and tonic, then brought it back to him. “Drink that; you’ll feel better in a while.” She went into the aft cabin and left him alone in the saloon.

  Stone sipped the drink and thought about the last few days. If his letter had reached Arrington in time, would that have mattered? Probably not, he realized. It wouldn’t have healed the problems in their relationship. Presently, he did feel better. The defense mechanisms were clicking into place now, and the ego’s own anesthesia was numbing the parts of him that hurt most. He took some deep breaths, and something inside him unclenched. Now, he thought, he must bring himself back to the present, because he had a lot to do.

  Chapter

  45

  He sat her down across the saloon and told her to get comfortable. “Comfort is the first thing,” he said. “I don’t want you squirming on the stand. No, don’t cross your legs, cross your ankles, and fold your hands together. Comfortable?”

  “Fairly.”

  “Find a position early on and be still. If you have to change, do it slowly and deliberately, and remember not to cross your legs.”

  “I think I got that part about the legs.”

  “Good. Now, your attitude is going to be important. When I question you I want you to think hard and tell me exactly the way things happened. I want the jury to see that you’re trying to be honest.”

  “All right.”

  “When Sir Winston’s turn comes, I want you to keep exactly the same demeanor; don’t use defensive body language like crossing your arms. Don’t be petulant; don’t show anger; above all, don’t raise your voice. Take his questions very seriously, and try to answer them honestly, unless it appears that he’s asking a question merely for effect, a rhetorical question, then you can look disappointed.”

  “Disappointed, not angry,” she repeated.

  “All right, are you ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Mrs. Manning, what was your motive for killing your husband?”

  She stared at him, and her eyes grew hard.

  “Sorry, I didn’t tell you I was going to be Sir Winston, did I?”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “You have to be ready for surprises. He may come right out of left field with something, but you can answer it immediately, because you’re relying on the truth, not subterfuge.”

  She shook her shoulders and tried to relax her body. “Okay, who are you this time?”

  “I’m your attorney. Mrs. Manning, did you love your husband?”

  Allison looked as if she might weep. “Oh, yes, I loved him.”

  “Don’t overdo it; this isn’t a soap opera.”

  “Isn’t it?” she asked archly.

  “Mrs. Manning, what reason might you have had to kill your husband?”

  “I had no reason whatever,” she replied firmly.

  “Now you’re getting it right,” he said.

  “Mrs. Manning, how much life insurance did your husband have?”

  She frowned and began thinking.

  “Don’t hesitate, tell the truth. If he asks you such a question, it’s because he already knows the answer.”

  “Aren’t you going to have some sort of structure to this questioning?”

  “In court, yes; but not now. I’m deliberately throwing curves at you, because I want you to be ready for anything. Don’t worry about structure right now, or even if I’m Sir Winston or me; just answer each question truthfully.”

  “All right, all right,” she said irritably.

  “If you think this is hard, wait until the trial starts. I’ll tell you again, rely on the truth, because it really can set you free. If you start striking poses the jury will know it immediately. Try to think of these people as your friends, friends you wouldn’t lie to, friends on whom you’re depending to do right by you, friends you trust.”

  “Who are these people likely to be?”

  “They could be this island’s aristocrats, or they could be cab-drivers and shopkeepers; we won’t know until they’re there, facing you. Don’t look at me or Sir Winston all the time when you’re being questioned; look at the jury, not as a group, but as individuals. Share your answers with them, one at a time; suck them into your story, each man of them.”

  She nodded. “All right.”

  “Mrs. Manning, what is the net worth of your husband’s estate?”

  “I believe it will be around fifteen million dollars, but I won’t know for sure until all the debts are paid.”

  “Good! Mrs. Manning, why would your husband have twelve million dollars in life insurance?”

  “Paul had never saved much money, although he earned a lot from the sale of his books. He knew he was a candidate for a heart attack, because his doctor had told him so, and he wanted me to be secure if he should die suddenly. Buying so much insurance was sort of a way of saving, of forcing himself to save, so there would be support for me if he died.”

  “Good! Answer that way—fully and completely always.”

  “Of course,” Allison replied with assurance.

  “Mrs. Manning, have you ever fired a scuba diver’s spear gun?”

  She reacted as if struck. “Ah, I…no.”

  “That’s a lie. If I can spot it, so can the jury. Answer the question.”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Yes, of course. Paul and I went diving whenever we were near a good reef.”

  “Have you ever struck anything with a harpoon fired from a gun?”

  She smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid not. Paul was a good shot, but I would always miss.”

  “Good, get a laugh out of them. How far were you standing from Paul when you fired the spear gun at him?”

  Her face collapsed into disbelief. “What?”

  “Where did the spear strike him?”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “In the chest? In the neck? Did he fall overboard immediately, or did you have to help him?”

  “Stone, goddammit!”

  “Did he bleed a lot? Did sharks come when they smelled the blood?”

  “Stop this!”

  “Answer the questions!!!”

  “I never fired a spear gun at my husband, never!” she cried, furious now. “I would never have done anything to harm him!”

  “Now that’s better,” Stone said. “That’s a good time to get angry, when he
does that to you.”

  “You said not to get angry.”

  “I misled you.”

  “You son of a bitch.”

  “No, I’m the sweetest guy in the world; Sir Winston Sutherland is the son of a bitch, and he’ll do anything he possibly can to get you to come apart on the stand. He already knows about the spear gun.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because the police searched the yacht, remember? You think they wouldn’t notice a lethal weapon hanging on a bulkhead in plain sight?”

  “Oh,” she said.

  “What about the other weapons?”

  “What other weapons?”

  “What did they take from the boat? A pistol? A shotgun?”

  “We didn’t have any weapons on board; Paul was very anti-gun.”

  “What about the spear gun? That was a weapon.”

  “It was a tool; it was used for fishing,” she said calmly.

  “What didn’t they find? A nine-millimeter automatic? A riot gun? What?”

  “There were no weapons aboard!” she cried. “None!”

  “How many knives were aboard the yacht?”

  “I don’t know how many…”

  “Think! Count them in your head!”

  She thought for a moment. “Maybe eight or ten, maybe a dozen.”

  “Enumerate them.”

  “Let’s see, in the galley, there was a chef’s knife, a bread knife, a boning knife, and two paring knives.”

  “How long was the chef’s knife?”

  “About eight inches. I could never handle the big ones.”

  “Is that what you used on your husband? An eight-inch chef’s knife? That would do the job.”

  “I never harmed my husband,” she said quietly.

  “What other knives were aboard?”

  “There were a couple of rigging knives; we kept one by the main hatch and one strapped to the mast, for deck work. Paul wore another one in a scabbard, along with a marlin spike.”

  “Did you take the knife from his belt and stab him with it?”

  “No! I never harmed him.”

  “So you just gave him a shove when he was pissing overboard, huh?”

  “I did not!”

  “Was he wearing the scabbard with the knife and marlin spike when you rolled his body overboard?”