she still charge two-fifty an hour, or has it gone up?"
Anthony smiled as he took another bite of cinnamon roll. "Forgive me, but I don't discuss my cases with anyone but my clients. I've been hired by Teri and Martin."
"Oh, please. Where do you think the money comes from? It's all out of the resort. Do you have any idea how much Billy has cost us already? Teri doesn't have a dime. Whatever she wants, Martin writes a check. We had to pay two hundred thousand dollars to the Morgans after Billy burned their house down. Now he's confessed to murder, and we're supposed to reopen in five days."
Anthony raised his brows. "As I said..."
Lois went on. "Whether he did it or not is beside the point, they'll go after him. I'll be shocked if it's not on the evening news. 'Suspect named in McCoy case.'"
"Ms. Greenwald."
"Fine. Just get it over with." Lois jerked on one of the bowlines to free it from the cleat on the dock.
Anthony finished the last of the roll, dusted his fingers, and tossed the napkin away. Food and drink were included in his fee. He wondered what Lois would say if he asked for a bottle of Dom Perignon at dinner tonight.
Heading toward the stern, Lois passed him, then spun around and came back. Her skin was imperfect. The blotches of red on her cheeks could have been painted there by nerves. "Must you rely on an alibi from Joan? What if you get the psychiatrist to say that Billy was on drugs when he called the police? What about that?"
"Why not rely on Joan?"
"Because... I'm not sure you can."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning she has no friends, she doesn't go shopping, she doesn't go out to a restaurant. She's like a ghost. You never see her. If she answers the door at all, she's wearing a ratty, feather- trimmed negligee with half the feathers missing. We send dinner over there occasionally, but she wants the tray left on her porch."
"The woman prefers her own company."
Lois folded her arms. "Well, Joan's nephew thinks she's nuts. His name is Doug Lindeman. He's a partner in the law firm that handles our business. Joan was a Lindeman before she went to Hollywood. We bought the island from her brother, Doug's father. Doug wants to file a petition for guardianship this week."
"A guardianship," Anthony repeated.
"I assume that's not good for Billy's alibi."
"To put her competency into question? No." Anthony felt a little frisson of unease. "How old is Joan Sinclair? Or do you call her Joan Lindeman?"
"She refuses to answer to Lindeman." Lois rolled her eyes upward. "She's a star. Joan is sixty-two. Doug and I are close friends. I could ask him not to go ahead with it. What do you think?"
"I think that's an excellent idea," Anthony said.
Lois started the big outboard engine and freed the last line securing them to the dock. Anthony had barely sat down when she hit the throttle. Once out of the harbor, the bow rose, then the boat settled onto a plane, streaking toward Tavernier.
At the hospital Anthony walked past Detective Jack Baylor, who lowered his cup of coffee and watched him. Baylor was wearing a different shirt, which meant he had given up the vigil at some point last night. In the hall near Billy Fadden's room Anthony spotted Dr. Vogelhut. The wheels of her chair reflected in the shine on the floor.
She was writing in a small notebook. Anthony touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him over her reading glasses. "Hey, handsome." She tilted her face so he could kiss her cheek. Her short gray hair feathered becomingly across her forehead.
"It's good to see you, Sharon, and thank you for coming so early."
"I left the house at five-thirty. It's marvelous. You miss all the traffic that way."
"Did you notice Detective Baylor?"
"Oh, yes. I spoke to him. He remembered me. I told him that Billy Fadden couldn't be trusted to know his own name at present."
Anthony waited for an orderly to pass by, then nodded toward the door to Billy's room, which was closed. "How is he?"
"He's got a ferocious
Anthony smiled as he took another bite of cinnamon roll. "Forgive me, but I don't discuss my cases with anyone but my clients. I've been hired by Teri and Martin."
"Oh, please. Where do you think the money comes from? It's all out of the resort. Do you have any idea how much Billy has cost us already? Teri doesn't have a dime. Whatever she wants, Martin writes a check. We had to pay two hundred thousand dollars to the Morgans after Billy burned their house down. Now he's confessed to murder, and we're supposed to reopen in five days."
Anthony raised his brows. "As I said..."
Lois went on. "Whether he did it or not is beside the point, they'll go after him. I'll be shocked if it's not on the evening news. 'Suspect named in McCoy case.'"
"Ms. Greenwald."
"Fine. Just get it over with." Lois jerked on one of the bowlines to free it from the cleat on the dock.
Anthony finished the last of the roll, dusted his fingers, and tossed the napkin away. Food and drink were included in his fee. He wondered what Lois would say if he asked for a bottle of Dom Perignon at dinner tonight.
Heading toward the stern, Lois passed him, then spun around and came back. Her skin was imperfect. The blotches of red on her cheeks could have been painted there by nerves. "Must you rely on an alibi from Joan? What if you get the psychiatrist to say that Billy was on drugs when he called the police? What about that?"
"Why not rely on Joan?"
"Because... I'm not sure you can."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning she has no friends, she doesn't go shopping, she doesn't go out to a restaurant. She's like a ghost. You never see her. If she answers the door at all, she's wearing a ratty, feather- trimmed negligee with half the feathers missing. We send dinner over there occasionally, but she wants the tray left on her porch."
"The woman prefers her own company."
Lois folded her arms. "Well, Joan's nephew thinks she's nuts. His name is Doug Lindeman. He's a partner in the law firm that handles our business. Joan was a Lindeman before she went to Hollywood. We bought the island from her brother, Doug's father. Doug wants to file a petition for guardianship this week."
"A guardianship," Anthony repeated.
"I assume that's not good for Billy's alibi."
"To put her competency into question? No." Anthony felt a little frisson of unease. "How old is Joan Sinclair? Or do you call her Joan Lindeman?"
"She refuses to answer to Lindeman." Lois rolled her eyes upward. "She's a star. Joan is sixty-two. Doug and I are close friends. I could ask him not to go ahead with it. What do you think?"
"I think that's an excellent idea," Anthony said.
Lois started the big outboard engine and freed the last line securing them to the dock. Anthony had barely sat down when she hit the throttle. Once out of the harbor, the bow rose, then the boat settled onto a plane, streaking toward Tavernier.
At the hospital Anthony walked past Detective Jack Baylor, who lowered his cup of coffee and watched him. Baylor was wearing a different shirt, which meant he had given up the vigil at some point last night. In the hall near Billy Fadden's room Anthony spotted Dr. Vogelhut. The wheels of her chair reflected in the shine on the floor.
She was writing in a small notebook. Anthony touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him over her reading glasses. "Hey, handsome." She tilted her face so he could kiss her cheek. Her short gray hair feathered becomingly across her forehead.
"It's good to see you, Sharon, and thank you for coming so early."
"I left the house at five-thirty. It's marvelous. You miss all the traffic that way."
"Did you notice Detective Baylor?"
"Oh, yes. I spoke to him. He remembered me. I told him that Billy Fadden couldn't be trusted to know his own name at present."
Anthony waited for an orderly to pass by, then nodded toward the door to Billy's room, which was closed. "How is he?"
"He's got a ferocious
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