The Short Forever(21)

“Cool and decisive,” Lance said.

“That doesn’t make her a murderer.”

“I guess not.” Lance stood up. “I’ll take your advice, Stone. I don’t suppose anything I could say at the inquest would make a great deal of difference.”

“Not after the barrister got through with you,” Stone said.

“He wants to talk to you; you’d better get dressed and come downstairs.” Lance left the room and closed the door behind him.

Stone sat and thought about the scene on the boat for a minute. Lance couldn’t be right, could he? Of course not. He got up and headed for a shower.





Chapter 13



STONE SHAVED, SHOWERED, DRESSED, and went downstairs; the house was very quiet. He walked into the library and found a man sitting before a fire reading a leather-bound volume. “Good morning,” he said.

The man rose; he was of Stone’s height but much slimmer, balding, with pale gray eyes. “Good morning.” He held out his hand. “I’m Bernard Pickering. I expect you’re Barrington.”

Stone shook the hand. “Yes.”

“I’ve ordered us some breakfast,” Pickering said, nodding at a small table at the end of the room that had been set for two. As if on cue, a maid entered the room bearing a silver tray. “Come,” Pickering said, leading the way.

“I understand you’re a lawyer back in the States,” Pickering said, pitching into his eggs.

“That’s right.”

“Have you done any criminal work?”

“Yes, and I was a police officer for many years before I began to practice law.”

“And you’re a partner, now, in Woodman and Weld?” the barrister asked, rasing his eyebrows.

“I’m of counsel. I work out of my own office.”

“I see,” Pickering replied, though clearly he didn’t.

“I do much of their criminal work.”

Pickering’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, I see.” Now he really did. “Well, that should make our conversation easier. I’m glad you’re someone who will understand the, ah, limits of my questions.”

“You mean the limits of my answers, don’t you?”

“Quite so. A death of this sort is always a delicate matter, and, if we handle it properly, we can dispose of the entire incident at this inquest.”

“I hope so,” Stone replied.

“I’m a bit concerned about Mr. Cabot’s attitude.”

“We talked about it. I don’t think he’ll be of particular concern to you.”

“James Cutler’s body came up in a fisherman’s trawl in the middle of the Channel, late last night. It’s being examined now.”

“I expect that death will be determined to have been caused by blunt trauma to the head or drowning, or both,” Stone said.

“Very probably. Will you give me your account of the events of yesterday?”

Stone related his story quickly, without embellishment.

Pickering nodded as he spoke. He took no notes. “Tell me, Mr. Barrington,” he said, “are you an experienced yachtsman?”

“I’ve done a lot of sailing, but not recently.”

“Are you aware that the standard procedure in such an event is for the crew not to enter the water to help?”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, and I considered it before going after James.”

“And what was your thought process, may I ask?”

“If someone goes into the water after a man overboard, then there are two men to be rescued, instead of one, but in this instance I believed that the blow from the boom would have rendered James unconscious, and that he would be unable to help himself.”

“Mmmm,” Pickering muttered in an affirmative fashion. “I expect you did the right thing. Did you see or touch Cutler after you went in?”

“No, I swam to where I thought he might be and dove for him, but I never saw or touched him.”

“Are you familiar with the tides in the Solent?”

“No.”

“The tide turned while you were sailing toward Cowes, so by the time you came off the wind and sailed toward the Beaulieu River, the tide would have been ebbing, and you might have had a couple of knots under you.”

“That would have made no difference in my search, since James, the yacht, and I would have all been equally affected by the tide.”

“Good point,” Pickering said. “Did Sarah say anything to you during this incident?”

“No, she didn’t have time before I went into the water, and I was in no state to have a conversation with her after they got me aboard again.”

“Good,” Pickering said, almost to himself. “Do you recall any display of attitude or emotion on her part after you were back aboard?”