Dark Harbor (11 page)

There was a lot of machinery, some of it not new. A huge band-saw appeared to be at least fifty years old, but it was clean, rust-free and well oiled. Three men were working on different machines, each with hearing protection and goggles. Half a dozen newly completed kitchen cabinets hung on a wall, awaiting painting and hardware.

Stone let Dino take the lead into the Shop. He could do most of the talking, too, and it was just as well, given the size of the lump in Stone’s throat brought on by the scent of sawed wood.

A tall man near the front of the shop switched off his machine when he saw them enter. He pulled off his earmuffs and let the goggles fall to his neck as he walked slowly toward them. “This way,” he said, beckoning. He led the way into a spacious office containing an old rolltop desk and a large drawing table. Rolls of plans protruded from pigeonholes next to the desk. He pointed to a pair of nicely built chairs, and they sat down.

“Remember us?” Dino asked.

Rhinehart nodded but didn’t speak.

“Wonder why we’re here?”

“Yes, I do,” he said slowly. His voice was deep. “I didn’t think we had any further business.”

“Looks like we do,” Dino said. “There’ve been a bunch of burglaries.”

“In Camden and Rockland? I knew the state cops would get around to me sooner or later, but why is the NYPD interested?”

“Your parole officer wants to know if you’re involved, Hal,” Stone said.

Rhinehart shook his head. “I haven’t been off the island since I got back here. I’m confined to it, according to my agreement with my parole officer. I can’t get on the ferry, unless I have his permission, and I’ve made a point of not leaving.”

“Do you own a boat?” Dino asked.

“Yes, my father’s, but it’s been laid up in a shed since he died.”

“Do you own a gun?”

“My father had a deer rifle. It’s locked in a case over at the house, and it hasn’t been fired since he got sick.”

“You know Dick Stone’s house?” Stone asked.

“Sure, I do; my dad and I built the study, the kitchen and the dressing rooms. Why?”

“I recall that you once did some other work, besides burglary,” Dino said. “Something more specialized.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Rhinehart said.

“Vito Thomasini, shot in his bed,” Dino said. “Edgar Bromfield, shot on his front doorstep from a roof across the street.”

“I’ve heard of Thomasini. Who hasn’t? Never heard of Bromfield, and I was nowhere near either of them when they were killed.”

“If you’ve never heard of Bromfield, why do you know you were nowhere near him when he was shot?” Stone asked.

“I mean, I heard of him, when I saw it in the papers, but I never laid eyes on the guy.”

“Not even through a scope?” Dino asked.

“listen, if there’d been the slightest evidence against me for those killings, you guys would have been all over me at the time. Why are you asking about Dick Stone? You think I killed him, too?”

“Did you?” Stone asked.

“Of course not. I liked the guy, and he paid us well for our work, I had no motive to kill him.”

“Sometimes, all the motive you need is a phone call and some cash,” Dino pointed out. “It’s not as though you have a conscience about these things.”

“Look, I stole a lot of jewelry, cash and other stuff, but I’ve never killed anybody.”

“Funny how you have this reputation, then,” Dino said.

“I don’t believe I do. Anyway, the only people who know I’m even on this island are those who live here, the state cops and my parole officer. Nobody I ever knew in that old life has ever even heard of Islesboro.”

“You’re in the phone book,” Stone said.

“The cabinet shop is; I’m not. I’m dug in here. I’ve got a wife and a kid and a fine business; I don’t need to steal from people or kill them for money. Go talk to my banker.”

“I believe you,” Stone said.

Dino looked at him as if he were crazy.

“I don’t think anybody who built that study for Dick Stone, who knew him, could kill him.”

“Thank you,” Rhinehart said.

“Let’s go, Dino,” Stone said, standing up.

“You really think we’re done here?” Dino asked. They were all on their feet now.

“What’s your interest in Dick Stone?” Rhinehart asked, as they moved back into the shop and toward the front door.

“He was my first cousin.”

“I see.”

Stone looked around the shop. “My father was a cabinet and furniture maker in New York.”

Rhinehart looked thoughtful. “Not Malon Barrington?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve seen some of his work. He was as good as they come.”

Stone wondered if he’d seen that work in people’s homes, after breaking in. “You said you liked Dick?”

“I did. He was easy to work with, and he paid on time. He understood what we were doing for him and how good the work was.”

“Would you like to do something for Dick?” Stone asked.

“What could I do for him now?” Rhinehart asked, as they reached the front door.

“You could break into his house,” Stone said.

“What?”

“I want to know how hard it is. You know the place.”

“I know he has an elaborate security system,” Rhinehart said. “A bunch of guys from out of the state were just beginning to install it when we were finishing the study.”

“Will you come and take a look?” Stone said. “I’d really like your opinion; it might help me learn who killed Dick.”

“Since you put it that way,” Rhinehart said.

Stone shook his hand. “After work?”

“Around six.”

“See you then.” Stone led Dino out of the place.

Chapter 22

DINO WAS FUMING as they drove away from the cabinet shop. “Jesus, I’m glad you’re not a cop anymore. You’ve gone all squishy soft. We might have gotten something out of him.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Stone said. “He was trying to be cooperative, against his better instincts, and I didn’t want to piss him off.”

“Why the hell should you care if you piss him off?”

“Because it’s a small island, and I might need some cabinet work done someday. And because we need him.”

“What, that business about breaking into Dick’s house?”

“You know anybody more qualified?”

“Now that you mentioned it, no,” Dino replied, settling down a little. “Of course, it’s a perfect opportunity for him to case the place in preparation for a later visit, maybe in the winter, when you’re not here.”

“No, Rhinehart has too much to lose. He’s got a new life now and, apparently, a good one. He’s not going to piss in his own well.”

“Oh, all right,” Dino said. “I never could talk to you when you get this way.”

RHINEHART SHOWED UP at six, when Stone and Dino were having a drink in the study.

“Would you like a drink, Hal?”

“Thanks, no. I’d better get started. I’m going to go outside, and I want you to go through the house and make sure that every window and door is closed and locked, then turn on the alarm system.” He turned and left.

“You take the upstairs,” Stone said to Dino, then headed for the kitchen. He went around the ground floor, checking and locking windows and doors, then went to the front door, tapped in the alarm code, then back to the study and his drink. Dino was already there. He had barely sat down when he looked up to see Hal Rhinehart standing in the doorway.

“How the hell did you get in?” Dino asked.

“Upstairs bathroom window on the south side,” Rhinehart said.

“What are you, a human fly?”

“No, the climbing part was easy; there was a ladder leaning against the house.”

Stone looked at Dino. “I believe that was one of your windows,” he said. “You want to go close it and double-check the others?”

Dino got up and stalked from the room.

Rhinehart crooked a finger. “Come here, I want to show you something.” He led Stone to the keypad by the front door, then opened the door. “Tap in the code,” he said, looking away.

Stone tapped in the code.

“Now look at the little screen on the keypad. What does it say?”

Stone peered at the screen. “Front door open,” he said.

“Before, it would have said ”Upstairs bathroom window open.“ And the alarm won’t arm if there’s something open. The house has to be sealed tight.”

Dino came back downstairs. “All right, everything’s closed.”

“I’m going outside again,” Rhinehart said. “Arm the alarm.”

Stone did so, then returned to the study with Dino. They had finished their drinks when the front doorbell rang. He went and let Rhinehart in. “Will you have a drink now?”

“Yes, thanks. Scotch, if you have it.”

Stone poured them all another one, and they sat down in front of the fireplace.

“I couldn’t get in,” Rhinehart said. “Not without taking a chainsaw to a wall, anyway. This is the most secure family home I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in a lot of them. The front door is steel, sheathed in mahogany; the windows are steel and the glass armored; and there are no gaps in the installation—every door and window is alarmed.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Stone said.

“What the hell was Dick expecting?” Rhinehart asked. “He must have spent fifty thousand dollars on security.”

“Dick worked for the State Department,” Stone said. “I think they had the work done.”

“State Department? More like the CIA or NSA,” Rhinehart said. “I doubt if the Secretary of State has this much hard-wired security.”

Stone shrugged.

“The problem, though, is the same as with any two-thousand-dollar installation: You leave a window cracked or just forget to arm the system, and all this security is useless.”

Stone nodded. “You have a point.”

“Is that what happened? Did Dick screw up and not arm the system?”

“Either that, or he let somebody in,” Stone said.

“The locks are something special, too. They’re Swedish, and they use a key that has magnetic points built into it as well as tumblers. I couldn’t pick one of them, and I’m pretty good.”

“I’ll bet you are,” Dino said.

“Hal,” Stone said, “do you have any theories about how or why Dick died?”

“Was anything taken from the house?”

“No.”

“You mean, nothing that you
knew
about was gone, but then, had you ever set foot in the place before Dick was killed?”

“No, and I wouldn’t have known what he had here. The caretaker and his wife would have known, though, especially the wife, since she cleans the place every day. The only thing she noticed amiss was that a vacuum cleaner was left by that door over there.” He pointed at the door to the terrace.

“So the killer cleaned up after himself.”

“It appears so, and he took the vacuum bag with him.”

“Did the alarm go off?”

“No;”

“Then it wasn’t armed, unless the killer had the code. What time of night did it happen?”

“Some time after midnight, according to the state police.”

“Anybody see anybody come or go?”

“No.”

“Nobody moves on this island after ten o’clock. It would be noticed if somebody was driving around. Maybe the guy came by boat.”

“That’s a good guess,” Stone said.

“You don’t think it was a local?”

“Do you?”

“Nah; everybody liked Dick. I mean, there are some folks on this island I wouldn’t trust with a gun after a few drinks, but nobody had anything against Dick; word would have gotten around. From what I read in the papers about the inquest, it sure sounds like a pro hit, doesn’t it?”

“More and more,” Stone said. “But I’d appreciate it if you’d keep that notion to yourself. I wouldn’t want the folks to start worrying about hitmen stalking their island.”

Rhinehart tossed off the rest of his drink and stood up. “I’ve got to get home for supper.”

Stone walked him to the door and thanked him for coming, then returned to the study.

“This case sure is a pisser, ain’t it?” Dino asked.

“It sure is.”

Chapter 23

ARRINGTON WAS wonderfully naked, seated atop Stone, and he was sitting up, so that he could feel her breasts against his chest. They were moving rhythmically, and she was making little noises and contracting her vagina each time she moved. They were both nearly there, just on the brink, when a noise intruded. “Stop that noise!” Arrington panted. “I’m going to come!” Stone woke up in a sitting position, sweating, tumescent and angry about losing the orgasm. He could hear a noise from downstairs. What the hell was going on? He heard the noise again; it seemed louder. He struggled out of bed and into his trousers, picked up the .45 from the bedside table and left the bedroom, pausing on the landing to listen. He heard it again, and it seemed to be coming from the study. He started down the stairs, then stopped. This was what Dick had done, going downstairs in only his trousers, armed, and still he had died.

Stone thought for a moment, then went back into his bedroom, unlocked a window and opened it. Nothing happened; no alarm. Somebody had defeated it, in spite of Hal Rhinehart’s assurances. He picked up the phone to buzz the guest house and wake up Dino, then put it down again. Dino was unarmed, and Stone couldn’t let him walk into this without a gun.

Stone went back to the landing and listened again. Nothing for a moment, then the noise came, but more softly. He flicked off the gun’s safety and began to creep slowly down the stairs, staying close to the wall to avoid squeaks from the steps. He stopped on the landing midway down the stairs to listen again. Nothing.

His heart pounding, Stone continued down the stairs, stopping every step or two to listen. At the bottom, he pressed his back against the wall and listened again. The noise came, as if someone were grinding something. Then, as from a great distance, a phone began to ring. It was faint, so it had to be coming from Dick’s secret office.

Stone took a deep breath, held the gun out in front of him in a combat stance and whipped around the corner, looking for any sign of movement, listening for any noise. The downstairs hallway was empty, but he heard the noise again, coming from the study.

Walking on tiptoe, even though he was barefoot, he went to the open study door and listened again. Nothing. He charged into the room yelling “Freeze, police!” the way he had done hundreds of times before, when he still was the police. Nothing. No one. He walked around the study, checking every corner, until he came to the alarm keypad glowing in the dark, near the door to the terrace. He checked the little screen: “Open window in master BR,” it said. The phone continued to ring. Stone tapped in the alarm code. The phone still rang.