STONE SPENT THE NEXT DAY working on his cousin’s estate, distributing funds to those named in the will, paying the bills that had come in and dealing with the life insurance company on the two policies that Dick had taken out.
Around noon, the doorbell rang, and two packages were delivered. One bore the return address of the funeral directors who had handled the cremation and obviously contained the family’s ashes; the other was from Sergeant Young. Stone opened that package.
Inside were a pair of khaki trousers and a plastic bag containing a number of items. A letter from the sergeant said that these were Dick’s clothes and the contents of his pockets, and that Dick’s pistol and silencer were being retained as evidence, pending resolution of his case.
Stone examined the trousers. They were ordinary, from L.L. Bean, and a belt was among the effects. He went through the other effects and found a steel Rolex Submariner wristwatch and bracelet, a wallet, ninety-four dollars in cash held by a money clip, a clump of keys on a ring, a handkerchief, a pocket comb, a silver Mont Blanc pen, a mint Chapstick and a pocket-sized packet of Kleenex.
Stone’s first interest lay in the fact that Dick’s clothes did not include shoes, shirt or underwear, just the trousers. He imagined Dick being wakened by a noise, slipping on the trousers and coming downstairs, where his killer greeted him with his own gun. He could not think of any other reason why his cousin would be wandering around the house in the middle of the night wearing only trousers. It was still cool at night, and the furnace in the house was programmed not to come on after midnight.
The wallet was small, since Dick had carried his cash in a money clip. He emptied it of its contents, one compartment at a time, and replaced the items in the same order after he had inspected them. There were a Maine driver’s license, American Express and Visa cards, a bank ATM card on Dick’s Camden bank, a membership card from a London club, a pilot’s license for single-engine land and multi-engine land with instrument ratings for both and a third-class FAA medical certificate with the date of Dick’s last examination, two days before his death, from a doctor in Camden. Stone had not known that Dick was a pilot. The wallet also contained business cards, identifying Dick as the agricultural attaché at London’s American embassy, obviously a cover job. The last item was a Maine license to carry concealed firearms.
Stone returned the items to their bag and put them in a cupboard in the study, then he looked up Caleb Stone’s number in the local phone book and called him. Caleb answered.
“It’s Stone,” he said.
“Hi.”
“I’ve received the ashes from the funeral directors, and you said you wanted to scatter them in the harbor.”
“Yes, thank you.”
“The three were intermingled, according to Dick’s instructions. Would you like me to bring them over?”
“I’ll pick them up,” Caleb said. “Is now a good time?”
“Yes, come ahead.” The two men hung up.
Five minutes later, the doorbell rang, and Stone ushered Caleb inside and handed him the box.
“I haven’t opened them,” he said. “I don’t know what sort of container they’re in.”
“I don’t suppose it matters,” Caleb said, tucking the box under his arm.
Stone struggled for something else to say. “I saw your boys over at the yacht club yesterday,” he said finally. “They’re the image of you at that age.”
“Yes, they are,” Caleb said. “I’m very proud of them. They’re doing well at Yale, and they’re the stars of the wrestling team, as I was.”
Stone nodded.
Caleb looked uncomfortable. “Would you mind if we borrowed the picnic boat to scatter the ashes? All we’ve got is a Boston Whaler, and it doesn’t seem appropriate to the occasion.”
“Please do,” Stone replied. “I suppose the keys are in it, since the yard delivered it yesterday.”
“Thank you,” Caleb said. “I’ll have the boys bring it back when we’re done.” He stood still for another moment, then said, “Well, I suppose I’d better go. Thank you for taking care of the funeral directors. Will you send me a bill?”
“The estate paid for it,” Stone said. “I’ve already sent them a check. I’ve dealt with the insurance company, and you should have a check from them within a week.”
“Thank you for that, too,” Caleb said and headed for the door.
Stone walked him to the door, shook his hand and closed it after him. Stone had still not become accustomed to Caleb’s newfound civility and quiet nature.
The phone rang, and Stone answered it in the study, at Dick’s desk.
“It’s Dino.”
“How are you? How did the meeting with Mary Ann and the lawyers go?”
“Lousy, but the one with Eduardo went better.”
“Why with Eduardo?”
“It was at his invitation.” Dino told him what had happened.
“That’s very good news, Dino.”
“Yeah, now I’m not stuck with just a salary and a pension.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to buy an apartment and invest the rest with a guy Eduardo recommended. So I’ll be out of your house as soon as I can find the right place.”
“Take your time.”
“How’s it going up there?”
“It’s all very pleasant. I played golf yesterday with an old cohort of Dick’s and had lunch at the yacht club, but I have no leads on the murders.”
“Am I going to have to come back up there and solve this for you?”
“Any help would be appreciated.”
“I’m going to be tied up here for a few days, then maybe I’ll do that.”
“You’d be welcome. How’s Elaine?”
“As ever. What did you expect?”
“As ever.”
“I gotta run; I’ve got an appointment with a real estate agent.”
“Take care.” Stone hung up. It was past his lunchtime, and he went into the kitchen and found Mabel fixing him a shrimp salad.
“Oh,” she said, “I thought of something. About that night.”
“What did you think of?” Stone asked.
“It was the vacuum cleaner.”
“What about the vacuum cleaner?”
“It was in Mr. Dick’s study, over by the door to the terrace.”
“Where would it ordinarily be?” he asked.
She pointed to a door across the kitchen. “In there, in the broom closet.”
“Do you think Dick used it?”
She shook her head. “Mr. Dick never lifted a finger to clean anything; I don’t think he would know how to operate a vacuum cleaner.”
“Did you mention this to the police?”
“Yes, and they put some powder on the handle, but they didn’t seem to find any fingerprints. When they were through with it, I cleaned the powder off and put it back in the broom closet.” She set his plate on the kitchen table.
Stone sat down to eat. So whoever had killed Dick and his family had vacuumed as he left the house through the terrace door. Very neat fellow. Very smart, too. “Mabel, have you changed the bag in the vacuum since that night?”
“There was no bag in it,” she said. “I put a new one in.”
Very smart fellow, indeed, Stone thought.