Double Jeopardy (Stone Barrington #57)(25)

“Jake Potter checked the local airport to see if they could have left the island on a plane or chopper, and he learned that a small airplane left before Hotshot sailed.”

“What kind of airplane?”

“A light, high-winged airplane. That’s got to be a Cessna, but Cessna has several high-winged airplanes, and there are other manufacturers, too.”

“Did Potter get a tail number?”

“No, they didn’t buy fuel, so there was no record of a tail number.”

“Anything else to add?”

“No, it’s just clear evidence that they didn’t sail aboard Hotshot, and that they could have left the island by airplane.”

“That would be very nice if there were some physical evidence, like a murder weapon or DNA.”

“But there wasn’t. Oh, there’s something else in the addendum that I didn’t know before.”

“What’s that?”

“Hotshot is registered as having Boston as a home port, and the owner of the boat, who backed their alibi, is named Kip.” He spelled it for Stone.

“Just ‘Kip’?”

“He may have many other names, but that’s the only one Potter got.”

“Okay, Tom. Do you have any suggestion as to what we could do with this?”

“Not a one, except to stick the story up your ass if you tie me into this. And that means not tying in Jake Potter, either.”

“So we’re back to square one.”

“Yeah, and the route from square one to an arrest is fogged in.”

“Well put, Tom. Are you sure there’s nothing else?”

“Not from me, there isn’t. You’re on your own. Bye.” He hung up.

“Well,” Dino said, “I’d call that convincing evidence.”

“Yeah,” Stone replied, “but the only ones convinced are you and I.”

“I don’t suppose anybody keeps a record of who lands at the airstrip on Islesboro.”

“I hate saying these words, Dino, but you are absolutely right.”

“So near, but yet so far.”





23

Stone and Dino were crouched over the computer, trying to penetrate the website for yacht registrations, when Stone, after a half dozen attempts and without a password, had a better idea.

“I’ve got a better idea,” he said.

“Yeah, sure. Remember what happened when you got your last idea, what, an hour ago?”

“We need the help of someone authorized, who can penetrate this website or, perhaps, do it the old-fashioned way and make a phone call. We need a tame cop.”

“Yeah, but you only know one cop up here, and he’s stopped helping.”

“I was thinking of you.”

“I’m not a Maine cop.”

“The boat registration website is federal,” Stone pointed out.

“I’m not federal,” Dino pointed out.

“But you know lots of feds, don’t you? All he has to do is call the number on the website and ask them to do a search for a yacht—that is, a sailboat named Hotshot, registered to an owner named Kip.”

“Kip is not a name, it’s a nickname. You think that the feds register yachts to nicknames?”

“Well, what name might be shortened to Kip?”

“Kissinger?”

“Nah.”

“Kiplinger?”

“Nah.”

There was a sharp rap on the door, and Stone opened it.

Primmy stood there. “You didn’t tell me you two were hiding in the walls. Seth ratted you out.”

“Come in,” Stone said, pulling her inside and closing the door behind her.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re looking for somebody who owns a yacht registered with Boston as a home port.”

“Then you only have to search a couple of hundred thousand yachts. Do you have any filters?”

“What?”

“Filters. You look for a yacht. If you know its name, you enter that in the search thingie, and so on. It filters out everything that is not as you’re describing it.”

“Well, the name of the yacht is Hotshot, and we know the owner’s nickname is Kip.”

“Well, why didn’t you just ask me?” Primmy said.

“You have the yacht registry tucked away in your brain somewhere?”

“No, but I know the yacht. And I know Kip.”

“Yeah?” Dino asked. “What’s Kip short for?”

“His name is K. P. Harwood. His friends just left out the i. He owns Hotshot, which is a custom-built Hinckley 54, probably paid for with his clients’ money.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because Kip is my stockbroker, or was, until the feds got onto him for a few not-exactly-legal moves he was making. When I heard about that, I found a new stockbroker. Who needs her money tied up in a federal investigation for several years?”

Dino turned and looked at Stone. “Why doesn’t she just conduct the investigation for us?”

“Well, she’s doing better than the Maine State Police and the Nantucket Police Department and us, put together, isn’t she?”