Dead In The Water

CHAPTER 7

Stone drove back to Markstown, mulling over what he might do to help Allison Ma

Thomas was alone at the bar, writing on a steno pad. He looked up as Stone came in. "I heard," he said. "Chester called me."

"It looks bad," Stone said, taking a stool and handing Thomas the arrest warrant. "I'm going to have to find her a first-class barrister."

Thomas shoved a pad across the bar. "I thought that might be the case. Here's a list of three who might-I stress, might-take her on."

Stone read four names. "What about the fourth name?"

"First we'd better call the first three. Shall I?"

"Please."

Thomas picked up the phone and dialed a number.

Ten minutes later, after the third call, Thomas hung up the phone.

"Well?" Stone said.

"No hope," Thomas replied. "The word is out that Sir Winston really wants this one-nobody knows exactly why-and nobody is going to go up against him right at this moment in time, with an election coming up soon. The consensus seems to be that a conviction would give him a lot of favorable publicity, and nobody wants to get between Sir Winston and publicity."

"What if Sir Winston should lose the case?"

"As far as I can tell from these phone conversations, nobody in the legal community thinks he's going to."

"How about somebody else?"

"Not a chance," Thomas said. "I eliminated most of them before I made my list. Those three were the only ones who might have opposed Sir Winston."

"What about the fourth name on the list?"

"Sir Leslie Hewitt," Thomas said.

"Yes, what about him?"

"He'll represent her," Thomas said. "He hates Sir Winston's guts, as his father before him did."

"Well, then, give him a call."

Thomas shook his head. "You don't understand."

"Explain it to me."

"Leslie was once a first-rate barrister, one of the best, in fact."

"And now?"

"He's well past eighty; he hasn't tried a case in at least fifteen years; and…"

"And?"

"And he's…failing, you know? I mean, he's bright as a new pe

"I think I get the picture," Stone said. "You're suggesting that an eighty-year-old barrister who's half gaga should defend Allison Ma

"No, that's not what I'm suggesting. You've got a hearing tomorrow morning at ten, and somebody besides you has got to be there to go through the motions, to be the barrister of record until you can get somebody in here from out of the country."

"You mean from England?"

"Probably. You could go to Antigua, which is another former British colony and which has a similar legal system, but that's too close to home. Those people are going to have to get along with Sir Winston, too, if his political dreams come true, and they are very likely to."

"I thought about London. I do a lot of work for a firm in New York, and I can ask them to recommend somebody in London. But I don't know whether Allison can meet that kind of expense."

"Then she's between a rock and a hard place," Thomas said. "Right now, I think you and I had better go see Leslie Hewitt."

They drove along the coast road to the western end of the island and turned off toward the beach onto a rutted dirt road.

"Where are you taking me?" Stone asked.

"Leslie has a cottage down by the beach," Thomas replied. "It's been in his family since the seventeenth century."

"Is he black?"

"Yes."

"I would have thought that in the seventeenth century, any blacks on this island would have been slaves."

"You're not far off the mark there, but an ancestor of Leslie's bought his freedom and started a stevedoring business. They were a very prosperous family indeed until we got our freedom from Britain. Then the new government confiscated nearly everything Leslie had inherited.His wife died, his children fled the country, and he was left here with nothing but this cottage." He pulled up before a whitewashed building.

It was larger than Stone had imagined. He got out and, with Thomas leading the way, approached the Dutch front door, which was open at the top.

"Leslie!" Thomas called out. He beckoned to Stone and entered the cottage. They walked through a small foyer and into a comfortably if somewhat seedily furnished living room. "Leslie!" Thomas called out again, but there was no reply. "Let's take a look out back." They walked through a neat kitchen and through a pretty garden, then down to the beach. A tiny black man in faded shbrts and a straw hat was pulling a dinghy up the beach from the water. "There he is," Thomas said, approaching. "Leslie, how you doing?" he asked.

"Thomas? Is that Thomas Hardy?" Leslie Hewitt asked, shielding his eyes from the light.

"Sure is," Thomas said. "Come to see you, and I brought a friend." He introduced the barrister to Stone.

"How do you do, Sir Leslie," Stone said.

"I'm very well, Mr.Barrington; and you?"

"Very well, thank you."

"Leslie, can we go into the house?" Thomas asked. "There's a matter we need to discuss with you."

"Do I owe you money?" Hewitt asked, removing his straw hat and mopping his brow with his forearm. He had short, snow white hair.

"Certainly not, Leslie."

"Then this is very surprising," he said. "It's been a very long time since anyone needed to discuss anything with me except a bill."

Sitting in a small study crowded with dusty books, Thomas Hardy explained the situation to Leslie Hewitt. "What do you think, Leslie?"

"Well, I certainly don't like the sound of it," Hewitt replied, crossing a bare leg over another and dusting off his foot. "All happening very quickly, isn't it?"

"Very quickly indeed," Thomas said.

"I shouldn't be surprised if, in the circumstances, Winston will ask for an early trial date. What is it you want of me? I don't know if I'm up to trying a murder case, not unless you enjoy a hanging."

Thomas and Stone laughed. "We need your help for the hearing, Leslie," Thomas said. "To hold the fort until we can get a barrister in from London."

"Ah, I see," Hewitt said. "Well, I can certainly help you to that extent."

"There's the matter of bail, too, Sir Leslie," Stone said.

"Please call me Leslie," the little man said. "Everyone does."

"Leslie, do you think there's a chance of bail?"

"It's not unheard of in such a case," Hewitt replied."It's not an easy island to get off of, especially if you're a foreigner, so the judge might smile on such a request. Bail might be steep, though."

"How steep?"

"A hundred thousand dollars, perhaps twice that."

"Cash?"

"Does the lady have any property in St.Marks?"

"An expensive yacht."

"That might do very nicely, if the judge is sure she won't sail away."

"That's good news; I'll pass it on to Mrs.Ma

"I shall want to meet her before the hearing," Hewitt said. "May we meet at the courthouse at, say, nine in the morning? That should give us time."

"Of course," Stone said. "Ah, you mentioned hanging; I hope that was in jest?"

"Oh, no," Sir Leslie said, shaking his head. "Certainly not in jest."

"St.Marks has capital punishment, then?"

"Oh, yes; it's quite easy to get hanged in St.Marks. You see, Mr.Barrington, there's no prison system to speak of on our lovely island. Crimes tend to get divided into three classes: first, there's anything from petty theft through assault and battery up to, say, multiple burglaries. These crimes are dealt with by fines and short sentences,up to about three months, in our local jail. If there's no room in the jail, then the fine is increased, and the Ministry of Justice is very scrupulous about collecting the fines. Then we have a second category of offenses, starting with armed robbery and ru