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“Mr. Keating,” Rawlings said. “I’m sorry, Mr. Boggs. Who killed Char … Evan Keating?”
“I did,” Charley said.
“Why?”
“It was self-defense. I’m sorry, I mean it was in defense of another’s life.”
“Whose life?” Tommy asked.
“Gigi’s. Evan was about to kill her, and I shot him in the head. I was afraid that if I shot him anywhere else, his gun would go off.”
“We found Charley’s gun,” Tommy said. “I mean your gun. Whosever gun it was who lived in the boathouse. It hadn’t been fi red.”
“Evan’s gun,” Charley said. “He had two of them. I shot him with the other one.”
“And where is the other one?”
“I ditched it in the sea, off Key West.”
“Can you point out the spot?”
“I don’t think so; it was a dark night.”
“Why did … the other guy want to kill Gigi?”
“Because Gigi had stolen his drugs from a hiding place in the wheelhouse of his boat. Oh, and some from his motorcycle, too.”
“And what did Gigi do with the drugs?”
“I dropped them into the sea, along with Evan’s gun.”
“How much drugs?”
“I’m not sure; seven or eight bags, I think. I didn’t want to be involved in the drug business, so I got rid of the stuff.”
Tommy picked up a phone and dialed an extension. “Bring me a fingerprint kit,” he said.
A moment later a female officer came into the conference room and fingerprinted Charley, while the others watched silently. She finished, and Charley went into an adjoining bathroom to wash his hands.
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“We have an earlier set of prints on Evan Keating,” Tommy said to the woman. “Bring them to me, please.”
She left, and Charley returned and sat down.
“Tell me how you got to be Charley and the other guy got to be Evan,” Tommy said.
“Evan and I traded places nearly a year ago. I knew my father would try to find me at some stage, and I didn’t want that to happen, and Evan didn’t want to hear from his father, either. We did it to confuse anybody who might be looking for us.”
Tommy seemed to run out of questions, then the woman returned with the two fingerprint cards. Tommy examined them both with a loupe. “These two sets of prints are identical,” Tommy said to Charley. “You’re Evan Keating.”
“No, I’m Charley Boggs; the card just has Evan’s name on it instead of mine. We did that when your people picked us up a couple of weeks ago.”
Tommy looked at the female officer. “Get me the prints of Charley Boggs we took from his corpse.”
She went away.
“Stone,” Tommy said, “do you have anything to say about this?”
“Not a thing,” Stone said. “This is as much a surprise to me as it is to you. Evan—sorry, Charley—refused to tell me anything he was going to say when we were on the way here, except that he was going to clear up the Charley Boggs homicide, and I guess he’s done that.”
The woman came back. “We didn’t take prints from the Boggs corpse,” she said. “The body was identified by two people.”
“Who?”
“The woman who lived on the houseboat next to Boggs’s.”
“And the other one?”
“That would be you.”
“Thanks, that’ll be all,” Tommy said. “Wait a minute, go pull the Florida driver’s license photos of Charley Boggs and Evan Keating.”
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She left again.
“Lieutenant Sculley,” Charley said, “I think I should tell you that Evan and I strongly resembled each other, before he grew the beard. In school, most people thought we were brothers. Once, we even attended each other’s classes for a day, and nobody noticed.”
The woman came back with the two photos, and Tommy and Rawlings looked at them.
“May I see them?” Stone asked, and Tommy pushed them across the table. Stone looked at the two photos. “Damned if he isn’t right; I might be able to tell them apart if they were sitting next to each other, but not if I saw them in different places.”
Rawlings was shaking his head. “I don’t know what to make of this,” he said.
“Gentlemen,” Stone said, “it appears that no crime has been committed here, so will there be anything else?”
Tommy and Rawlings looked at each other, and Rawlings shook his head.
“I guess not,” Tommy said.
“Well, then,” Stone said, “if you’ll excuse us.” He stood up, and so did the new Charley Boggs. “Please send the completed immunity agreement to me at the Marquesa today.” Rawlings nodded. Stone half expected to be stopped, but he and Charley walked out of the building unmolested and got into Stone’s car.
“Well,” Stone said, “that was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen in my law practice.”
“I guess it was kind of strange,” Charley said. “Thanks for negotiating the immunity agreement. It’s a load off my mind, and it will be for Gigi, too.”
“I’m going to assume you told them the truth,” Stone said, “and if you didn’t, I don’t want to know.”
“Of course not,” Charley said, “you’re a lawyer.”
“Where to?”
“The Marquesa; I took your advice.”
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Stone drove there and parked the car in the guest garage.
“Oh,” Charley said, “I almost forgot.”
“What?”
“Will you get word to Warren Keating that Evan is dead? I’d like his man to stop shooting at me.”
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STON E WA L K ED B A C K to his cottage and watched Charley Boggs walk to his own, directly opposite. Gigi was waiting for him on the front porch, and she stood up to kiss him, laughing when he apparently told her the news.
Dino was sitting on their porch, rocking. “What’s going on?”
Stone got out his cell phone. “I may as well tell you and Eggers at the same time,” he said, pressing the speed-dial number and the speaker button.
Eggers answered, and Stone gave him a blow-by-blow account of the meeting. Eggers was silent.
“Bill?” Stone said.
“I’m still here. At least, I think I’m still here. I’m feeling a little disoriented.”
“I know the feeling,” Stone said. “Are you in touch with Warren Keating at all?”
“I’ve spoken to his attorney a couple of times. There was a lot of shouting.”
“I think you’d better give the attorney the news, so that he can 1 6 5
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transmit it to his client. Charley Boggs wants Warren to stop trying to kill him.”
“I can understand that,” Eggers said.
“Sooner, rather than later, please.”
“I’ll call him now.”
“Thanks, Bill.”
“You coming back to New York now?”
“In a couple of days, maybe. I want to see what it’s like in Key West when I don’t have anything to worry about.”
“Bye, then.” Eggers hung up.
Stone turned to Dino. “Any questions?”
“Seems like all my questions have been answered,” Dino said.
“All that I can think of at the moment, anyway.”
Stone got a soda out of his refrigerator and sat on the porch, sipping it. “I feel kind of let down,” he said.
“Not me,” Dino said. “I feel just great.”
A young man came down the path and stopped at their porch.
“Is one of you Mr. Stone Barrington?”
“I’m Barrington,” Stone said.
“I have a letter for you from the county attorney’s offi ce,” the m
an said, holding out an envelope.
Stone pointed at the cottage across the way. “See that cottage?”
“Yessir.”
“Knock on the door and give the letter to Mr. Boggs; he’s expecting it.”
“Okay.” The young man did as he was told, and Charley Boggs received the letter. He opened it, read it, waved at Stone and went back inside.
“Business concluded,” Stone said.
“It’s not too early for a drink, is it?” Dino asked.
“Of course it’s too early. Let’s go to the Raw Bar and get some conch fritters.”
“I’m game,” Dino said.
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THE Y WE RE HA L F WAY through their fritters when Dino broke the silence. “There’s something I don’t understand,” he said.
“Tell me,” Stone replied.
“What did these two guys get out of switching identities?”
“They made it harder for their respective fathers to fi nd them.”
“My recollection, from what Tommy said, was that Charley’s father’s response to being told his son was dead was that he wasn’t surprised, that he’d thought he might be already dead.”
“Yeah, that’s what Tommy said the elder Mr. Boggs said.”
“Which means that Charley Boggs’s old man wasn’t looking for him.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“So what’s in it for him to switch identities with Evan?”
“I’ve got two answers for you: the first, not much; the second, maybe Charley was just doing Evan a favor. After all, we know that Evan’s father was looking for him, because he hired Manny White and me to find him, and Evan and Charley had been close friends since prep school, so it’s the sort of thing one friend might do for the other.”
“Yeah, okay,” Dino said, “but I think there’s another reason we don’t know about.”
“What’s that?” Stone asked.
“I don’t know. We don’t know about it. I just think there’s more to this story than we’ve been told.”
Another voice spoke. “That’s what I think.”
Stone looked up to see Tommy Sculley standing next to the table. He shoved onto the bench next to Dino.
“I’m willing to believe that,” Stone said. “But from my point of view, I know all I need to know. So do you, Tommy. You cleared a homicide, and you know what happened to Charley’s—excuse me, Evan’s drugs. Aren’t you happy?”
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“No,” Tommy said, “and I don’t know why. Did Charley ask you to let Evan’s old man know he’s dead?”
“Yes, he did, and for a very good reason: He wants Warren Keating to stop trying to kill him.”
“That’s what I figured,” Tommy said. “That’s a good reason, also, for him to come in today and tell his story.”
“Yeah, I guess so. But he didn’t have to do that; he wasn’t a suspect, was he?”
“No.”
“So he could have gone right on being Evan Keating, if he’d wanted to.”
“Yeah, I guess he could have. And gone right on getting shot at. Doesn’t it bother you guys that this all wrapped up so neatly?”
“I like it when things wrap up neatly,” Dino said. “It’s just that they never do.”
“Sure they do,” Stone said. “Sometimes. All right, rarely.”
“There are always loose ends,” Tommy said. “Only this time, there aren’t.”
The three men sat and contemplated that in silence.
“You’re a troublemaker, Tommy,” Stone said.
“Sorry about that; I’m just not satisfi ed.”
“Try this,” Stone said. “If you find out Evan—ah, Charley—did commit some other crime associated with the murder, Rawlings has already given him immunity for it, so there’s nothing you can do, anyway.”
“Yeah, that’s very clever of what’s-his-name,” Tommy said. “I think Rawlings and I were snookered.”
“Now, wait a minute, Tommy, I haven’t snookered anybody. I didn’t know what Ev … what’s-his-name was going to say until I heard him tell you.”
“I believe you, Stone. That means you’ve been snookered, too. Doesn’t that bother you?”
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“It would,” Stone said, “if I knew I had been snookered, but I don’t know that.”
“Well,” Tommy said, “when you find out you’ve been snookered, would you let me know how?” He got up and left, without waiting for an answer.
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STO N E SP EN T Y E T another happily exhausting night with Dr. Annika Swenson but got up early and returned to the Marquesa for breakfast with Dino, who was already having his on the front porch. Stone ordered, then sat down.
“You missed Charley and Gigi from across the way.”
“They left?”
“They checked out last night, luggage and all.”
“Maybe they were planning a cruise,” Stone said. “Charley said yesterday that Gigi was shopping for groceries for the boat.”
“Maybe so,” Dino said. “Think we’ll ever see them again?”
“Who knows? I don’t particularly care.”
“Are you starting to get free of this business, then?”
“Annika makes it hard to think about anything else when you’re with her.”
“Yeah, I know what you mean. Genevieve can be like that. I’ve been late to work a few times.”
“When do you think we ought to get out of here?”
“I’m good for another day,” Dino said. “Tommy invited us for lunch and a boat ride to nowhere.”
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“Sounds good,” Stone said. “I’ll ask Annika to join us; it’s her day off.”
“Tommy and I will protect you from her.”
“Let’s get an early start tomorrow. It’ll take us about fi ve fl ying hours, plus a fuel stop in South Carolina, and I’d like to get to Teterboro by three or so, before rush hour starts.”
“I’m fine with that,” Dino said.
Stone’s breakfast arrived, and he dug in.
ALI T T L E B E F O R E noon Stone dropped Dino at the yacht club, then went to pick up Annika. She wasn’t quite ready, and he took a chair in her bedroom and watched her get dressed. It wasn’t as much fun as watching her get undressed, but it wasn’t bad.
“Annika?”
“Yes?”
“You remember, you said you treated Evan Keating for a knife wound at the hospital?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Do you remember how he paid his bill? I mean, did he have medical insurance?”
“I don’t know; that’s not my department.”
“Where was the knife wound?”
“He was raked across the ribs on the left side. The ribs protected the internal organs.”
“How long was the cut?”
“Perhaps twelve centimeters.”
“That’s what, fi ve inches?”
“A bit less.”
“Can you find out if he had insurance and, if not, how he paid his bill?”
“Yes,” she said. She picked up a phone, called the hospital’s billing department and spoke for a couple of minutes, then hung up. 17 1
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“He didn’t have medical insurance,” she said. “He paid with his American Express card. The cashier remembered it, because it was black, and she had never seen one before.”
“A black American Express card? That’s the one you have to spend a lot of money to get, isn’t it?”
“I think so; I’ve never seen one. Why are you interested in this?”
“Idle curiosity. Did Evan Keating have a beard?”
“No, he was
clean-shaven. There was a girl with him, I
remember—very pretty.”
Stone’s cell phone buzzed on his belt. “Hello?”
“It’s Tommy; Dino and I are on the way to the airport. Paul DePoo called, and the guy with the red Cessna is there, waiting for them to get it out of the hangar.”
“I’ll be right with you,” Stone said, and he hung up. “Annika, are you ready?”
She presented herself in an outfit that showed off her long legs and considerable cleavage. “I am ready,” she said. STON E M A D E I T to the airport in record time. “Annika, do you mind waiting in the lounge for a few minutes? I have to do this.”
“All right,” she said, and she went inside. Stone followed her, then found Tommy and Dino in Paul DePoo’s offi ce.
“The guy’s in the waiting room,” Tommy said. “Did you notice him?”
“No, I wasn’t looking for him, I guess.”
“And he’s getting impatient,” Paul added.
“Give us a one-minute head start,” Tommy said to Paul. “We’ll wait for him in the hangar.”
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“Okay,” Tommy said, “let’s just be looking at the airplane, until he gets close enough to talk to. Dino, are you carrying?”
“Yep,” Dino said.
“Nope,” Stone said.
“Then stay behind us, Stone, and let me do the talking.”
“He’s coming,” Dino said, pretending to inspect the airplane,
“and I don’t believe it, but he’s got the gun case slung over his shoulder.”
The man approached. As the counter woman had said, he was medium everything, and his yellow baseball cap was his only distinguishing feature. “Can I help you gentlemen?” he asked, unslinging the gun case and setting down a leather duffel.
“We were just admiring your airplane,” Tommy said. “Are you Frank Harmon?”
“No,” the man replied, “Frank Harmon is the man I bought the airplane from. I’m Jim Vernon.”
Tommy showed him a badge. “May I see some I.D., Mr. Vernon?”
The man looked slowly around the group. “For what purpose?”
“For the purpose of identifying you,” Tommy replied. “Please don’t make me ask you again.”
The man dug out a wallet and handed Tommy a driver’s license. Stone watched him like a hawk, expecting trouble. Tommy looked carefully at both sides of the license. “Is this your current address, Mr. Vernon?”