“The Barrington Practice,” Joan said.
“Hi, it’s me. What’s up?”
“I trust you were met at the airport?”
“Yes, and we’re comfortably ensconced in the house. There are three phone lines, one for the fax.” He gave her all of them.
“How long will you be there?”
“I’m not sure; there’s a lot to do. There’s the inquest tomorrow morning, and I have to file the will for probate.”
“I take it you’re now the proud owner of a Maine house?”
“In a manner of speaking. I can’t seem to get used to the idea.”
“Oh, by the way, for your information, the three witnesses who signed the will, besides Seth Hotchkiss, were the pilot, copilot and flight attendant on the private jet that delivered the Stone family to Rockport the day before they died. Apparently, they were considering buying into some sort of fractional jet program, and the trip from D.C. to Rockport was a sort of test run.”
“Good to know.”
“There’s no interesting mail. Can I reach you at this number?”
“For all of today; tomorrow morning, try the cell. I’ll talk to you sometime tomorrow.
“Bye-bye.”
Stone hung up and turned to Lance in the little office. The printer was spitting out sheets of paper. “What are you learning?” he asked.
Lance picked up the papers and consulted them. “Our boy, Caleb, is married to the former Vivian Smith; two sons, Eben and Enos, who share a birthday. Caleb graduated Yale and Yale Law in the bottom half of both classes; he is employed by the Boston law firm of Marsh, Andrews, Fields and Schwartz. Note his name is not on the letterhead. He’s been with the firm since law school but took twelve years to make partner. He heads their estate planning division, and given the number of the firm’s employees, I’m inclined to think he is the firm’s estate planning division.
“He belongs to a couple of good clubs, lives in a respectable suburb of Boston, summers here, and from his tax returns and credit report, it appears that he lives at the very limit of his income while still managing to pay his bills on time. I think he will be very relieved when his boys finish Yale next year.”
“Any criminal record?”
“None. He appears to have trod the straight and narrow his whole life long.”
“If he’s as financially strapped as you say he is, he must have been very disappointed, indeed, when he read Dick’s will.”
“No doubt. I expect he’s reassessing his retirement plans as we speak. One good thing: Since he now has no hope of ever seeing Dick’s and Barbara’s money, he has no motive to kill you.”
“Yes, well…”
“Caleb has led the most boring of all lives, I expect,” Lance said. “One of quiet desperation, as the saying goes. I hope his family loves him, because it seems to me that’s about his only comfort.”
“My experience of him is that he’s not an easy fellow to love,” Stone said.
Seth Hotchkiss came into the room. “Anything I can do for anybody?”
“Seth,” Stone said, “let’s you and I have a talk.” Stone led the caretaker outside, and they took seats on teak furniture on the stone patio. The sun was pleasantly warm, though Stone knew that by nightfall there would be a chill in the air. After all, it was only June in Maine.
“What can I do for you, Stone?”
“Tell me what Dick’s and Caleb’s relationship was like.”
“Well, you remember what it was like when they were boys?”
“Yes.”
“It was pretty much like that, except that Dick seemed to do better in life than Caleb, had a better job and a nicer wife. Dick was able to build this house, while Caleb had to be content with propping up the old family place. Funny, I would have stayed on there out of loyalty, but Caleb fired me a week after his parents died in that car crash. Dick hired me the same day, and I’ve been very happy ever since.”