THE HOUSE WAS a perfect shingled New England dwelling with two front facades—one facing the front gate, the other facing the little harbor—with a garage wing big enough for four cars and a staff apartment and a guesthouse to one side of the main house.
Seth drove over to the guesthouse and unloaded Lance’s and Dino’s luggage. “We’ll put the fellers here,” he said, “and the lady over in the main house. That okay?”
Holly nodded. “Fine with me, Seth.” She glanced at Stone, who pretended not to notice.
Seth showed Lance and Dino to neat little rooms, divided by a sitting room with a TV and a fireplace. “Mabel will have some lunch for you in half an hour,” he said.
They got back into the wagon and drove the few yards to the main house. Seth carried the luggage upstairs and put Stone in what was, obviously, the master and Holly into an adjoining room, which seemed meant for guests. “Lunch is in half an hour in the kitchen,” Seth said. “I’ll leave you to get settled.”
“I’ll come down with you, Seth,” Stone said.
“You want to see where it happened?” Seth asked.
“Didn’t it happen in the master bedroom?”
Seth shook his head and beckoned. He led Stone down the hall to a large, pretty bedroom, full of stuffed animals and the detritus of childhood and the teen years. Everything was very neat. “For some reason, Barbara was in bed with Esme. They were both sleeping on their right sides, with their backs to the door. Somebody put two bullets in each of ’em’s head. It was like they never woke up, never moved.” He turned and led the way downstairs. They walked through a large living room with broad views of the harbor and into a smaller study.
Seth walked over to the desk. “Dick was sitting here, and he had this tiny, little gun in his left hand, and it had what looked like a silencer on it, like you see on TV. There was a hole in his left temple, and it was all black around it. The bullet went all the way through and ended up here.” He tapped a hole in the leather desktop. “There was a lot of blood and brains.”
“Who found them?”
“Mabel did, when she came down to fix breakfast. It was about six-thirty in the morning. She screamed real loud, and I was down quick.”
“Did either of you touch anything?”
“No, sir. I’ve seen me enough Law & Orders not to do that.”
“Why is there no crime-scene tape around the house, and why was Mabel allowed to clean up?”
“The trooper told us we could do that after they took the bodies away,” Seth said. “By the way, he’s coming over, getting the two o’clock ferry, so he’ll be here by two-thirty.”
“Did they take any photographs?”
“I’m not sure, but I did.” Seth reached into a pocket and handed Stone a small electronic camera. “It was Dick’s, just a point-and-shoot thing, then you put the pictures in the computer. I didn’t know how to do that.”
Stone put the camera into his pocket. “I’m sorry you and Mabel had to see that,” he said.
“So’m I,” Seth replied.
“Seth, Dick left you and Mabel some money, half a million dollars, and he left another half a million in a trust for your kids’ education. How old are they now?”
“They’re eighteen and nineteen; boy’s younger. They’re at Bowdoin, freshman and sophomore. Dick had been paying for their college. I’m relieved to hear that’s going to keep on.”
“That will continue, and they can go to graduate school, if they want to. When the older one is twenty-five, what’s left in the trust will be divided between them.”
“Nice little nest egg for them, then.” Seth began to cry.
Stone patted him on the back, but didn’t say anything.
“Lunch in half an hour, in the kitchen,” Seth said. He handed Stone a bunch of keys. “These were Dick’s.” Then he hurried out of the room.
Stone walked around the study, looked at the view of the harbor, looked at the book titles. A remarkable number of them were in his own library. There were silver-framed photographs of Barbara and Esme on his desk. He suddenly felt closer to Dick, remembered his good cheer, his sense of humor, his innate kindness.
“Who are you?” a voice said.
Stone turned to find Caleb Stone standing behind him. He had put on some weight but was still recognizably the twenty-year-old Stone had known, with the same broken nose. “Hello, Caleb. I’m Stone Barrington.”
Caleb stood stock-still for a moment and looked him up and down, then, remembering some vestige of manners, walked over and offered his hand. “Hello, Stone,” he said. “What the hell are you doing here?” The question was made up of equal parts of amazement and hostility.
“I’m here at Dick’s invitation.”
“You mean, he invited you up here to stay?”
“Yes, he did. Along with some friends.”
“You mean there are other people in the house?”
“Three, here and in the guesthouse.”
“Christ, we planned to move in here tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to change your plans.”
Caleb ignored this statement. “The boys are home from school to help, and their mother is packing right now.”
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” Stone said.
“Now, you listen to me. I want you and your friends to get out of this house, and I want you on the next ferry.”
Stone walked over to the sofa and chairs by the window. “Caleb, come and sit down for a minute; I need to tell you some things.”
“Jesus, you haven’t been up here in decades, and you’re acting like you own the place.”
Stone sat down and pointed at a chair. “I think you’re going to want to hear this sitting down.”
Caleb sank heavily into a chair facing him. “What have you got to say?”
“The day before yesterday, I received a Federal Express package from Dick, which contained a letter, hiring me as his attorney, and the original of a will he had written and had properly witnessed.”
“What will? I’ve got Dick’s will at home. He made it out eleven years ago, and I’m his executor.”
“I’m afraid the new will supercedes that,” Stone said. “Dick appointed me executor. It’s a simple document: He provided for Seth Hotchkiss and his family, for a few of Barbara’s relatives, and left the rest to a foundation that helps the families of dead CIA officers.”
“Why the hell would he do that? Dick didn’t have anything to do with the CIA. He was a diplomat.”
Stone was surprised that Caleb knew nothing of Dick’s work. “On the contrary, Dick was a career CIA officer, and he had recently been promoted to a high position in the Agency.”
Caleb stared at him, speechless.
“There’s something else,” Stone said. “Dick and Barbara were each other’s beneficiaries, and Esme was to inherit, if they both died. In the event that they all three died, as in an accident, Dick left this house to me for my lifetime and that of my heirs. If I choose to sell it, the proceeds will go to the foundation, and he instructed me to entail the deed so that you can’t buy it.”
“I want to see this will,” Caleb said.
Stone reached into an inside pocket, produced a copy of the will and handed it to Caleb.
Caleb read it. “This will is invalid,” he said, “because one of the witnesses is a named beneficiary. I’m a lawyer, and my specialty is estate planning.”
“Three unnamed witnesses are enough to validate the will in any state in the Union,” Stone said. “You can sue, if you like, but I’m sure you’ve already realized that this is a proper and legal will, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
“So you plan to take possession of this house?” Caleb demanded.
“I have already done so,” Stone replied. “Would you like to stay to lunch and meet my friends?”
Caleb got up and walked out without a word, the will clutched tightly in his hand.
Stone got up and went in to lunch.