“I can’t just yet. I’m dealing with my father’s burial. My grandfather isn’t up to it.”
“I should tell you,” Stone said, “that one of the theories being posited in all this is that your grandfather hired someone to kill both you and your father.”
“That’s preposterous!” Evan said. “No one who knows my grandfather would ever think that.”
“Do you have another candidate for who might want both you and your father dead?”
A long silence. “No, I don’t.”
“Then answer me this: Who might have a motive for wanting you both out of the picture?”
“I don’t know.”
“A financial motive, maybe?”
“Do you mean the money from the sale of the family business?”
“I would have thought it was enough to kill for.”
“For some people maybe, but not my grandfather.”
“Well, on your fl ight back to Key West, you’ll have time to consider who else might profit from your demise.”
“Am I suspected of a crime?”
“You own a boat that was carrying drugs.”
“There were no drugs in that locker when Gigi and I left,”
Evan said. “I know, because I got a rubber dinghy out of the locker to move us and our luggage from the boat to the seaplane, and there was nothing else in that locker except fenders and mooring lines.”
2 0 0
L o i t e r i n g w i t h I n t e n t
“Evan, are you coming back? What do you want me to tell the Coast Guard?”
“I’m coming back, and I’d like to retain you again.”
“All right. When are you coming back?”
“My father’s remains are being cremated tomorrow morning. I’ll get the earliest plane I can after that. I shouldn’t think it would be before tomorrow night, or perhaps the day after. It depends on how my grandfather is bearing up.”
“All right, I’ll call the Coast Guard and tell them that.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you when I get in. Goodbye.” Evan hung up.
“You lead such an interesting life,” Annika said. 2 01
44
ST O N E A RRIV E D B A C K at the Marquesa near lunchtime the next day to find Dino on the phone. Dino punched the speaker button. “You might want to hear this; it’s Dan Hotchkiss.”
Stone sat down.
“Go, Dan,” Dino said.
“Just a follow-up,” Dan said. “We traced the Pirelli 210 tires to a Mercedes station wagon owned by a Dr. Ralph Peters, of Torrington. Dr. Peters left his car at the airport, and he and his wife went to Maine for a couple of days. When he was taking his baggage out of the car a man offered to help, a white male, fortyish, medium height, medium weight, wearing sunglasses and a yellow ball cap.”