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this the approximate path of the bullet, given the trajectory in your report?”
    “Yes, I suppose it is.”
    “Do you see that the bullet would have lodged in an entirely different place in the desk, if fired in this manner?”
    “Yes, I do.”
    “It would then appear that the only way to reconcile the trajectory of the bullet with the place where it struck the desk would be with Mr. Stone sitting in an upright position?”
    “It would seem so.”
    “With the gun held so?” Stone again assumed the awkward position he had demonstrated earlier.
    “Yes.”
    “Would this trajectory also be consistent with the gun being fired by a person unknown standing next to and above Mr. Stone’s position?”
    The doctor took a deep breath. “Yes, it would be.”
    “Thank you, Doctor. Your Honor, I suggest that the preponderance of the evidence suggests that this was murder, not suicide, that it was likely that the shooter first shot Mr. Stone, then went upstairs and shot his wife and daughter.”
    “What about the noise of the gunshot?” the coroner asked.
    Stone went to the evidence table and picked up the Keltec .380 in its plastic bag. “The pistol was silenced, Your Honor.”
    The coroner turned to Trooper Young. “Sergeant, do you have anything further to add?”
    “No, sir,” the trooper said.
    The coroner faced his small audience again. “The verdict of this court is declared to be open, that the victims could have been killed by either Mr. Stone or by an unknown party, and that the police investigation should continue. This court is adjourned until such time that there is further evidence to hear in this case. The bodies of the victims are released for burial.”
    The coroner rapped once with his gavel, then gathered his papers, got up and left the room.
    Outside the courtroom Stone was met by the television crew and the young woman from the press, but he declined to speak further, referring them to the testimony in the courtroom.
    As they were standing on the street, looking for a cab, Sergeant Young approached them. “You’d have to phone for a taxi,” he said. “Can I give you a lift somewhere?”
    “I need to go to a funeral parlor, then to the airport,” Stone said.
    “I’ll drive you.”
    They got into the state police car and drove away.
    “Looks like you’ve made some more work for me,” Young said.
    “Sorry about that,” Stone said.
    “Don’t be. You made a valid point. I’ll come over there tomorrow and go over the whole thing again.”
    “Thank you,” Stone said.
     
    AT THE FUNERAL PARLOR , Stone made arrangements for the cremation of Dick, Barbara and Esme Stone and instructed that their ashes should be mingled and shipped to him in Dark Harbor. He and Dino were back on Islesboro by two o’clock.

8
    W HEN STONE AND DINO left the Islesboro airport to drive back to the house, they were amazed at the number of cars on the road and parked outside the Dark Harbor ice cream parlor. Apparently, summer residents were pouring off the ferry.
    Back at the house he found Lance and Holly working in Dick’s secret office.
    “How’d everything go?” Lance asked.
    Stone told him about the autopsy photographs. “At least I managed to get an open verdict, pending further investigation,” he said. He began looking for a secure place to lock up the crime scene, autopsy and ballistic reports, and to his surprise, he opened a cabinet and found a safe inside.
    There had been nothing about a safe in Dick’s will or in the accompanying letter. Below the safe’s dial was a keyhole, and Stone went through Dick’s keys until he found one that fit, but it didn’t open the safe.
    “Maybe I can help,” Holly said from behind him.
    “You a safecracker?” Stone asked.
    “I had some training at the Farm,” she said. The Farm was the CIA’s training facility for agents.
    “You go right ahead,” Stone said, stepping out of her way.
    Three minutes later, Holly stepped back from the safe.
    “Now try