Double Jeopardy (Stone Barrington #57)(26)

“Why don’t you two just tell me what you want, and I’ll see if I can help,” Primmy said.

“Can you figure out where Hotshot is docked? We know it’s in Boston.”

“At the Fairwater Yacht Haven in Back Bay.”

“She’s like Siri,” Dino said. “You just ask her, and the answer pops out. Where the hell is Back Bay?”

“Fairwater Yacht Haven is on the Charles River, down from Cambridge. You want directions? Nearby restaurants? Tattoo parlors? Cheap parking?”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to take her along?” Dino asked.

“I believe you may be right, Dino,” Stone said.

“Second time today! Do you think a 1938 Ford woodie station wagon can get to Boston and back without putting us afoot on an interstate?”

“Seth keeps that car in perfect condition,” Stone said.

“We should go now,” Primmy said. “There’s a race to Provincetown tomorrow, and everybody will be clearing the marina by eight AM.”

“Do you think we’ll find Kip there?”

“Kip never misses a race,” she says. “When he’s on the water, he’s harder for the U.S. attorney to find.”

“We’d better pack an overnight bag,” Stone said. “Siri. Excuse me, Primmy, can you recommend a hotel?”

“Sure. What kind of hotel would you like?”

“One with thick walls,” Dino said. “I don’t want to spend the night listening to you two.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Stone said.

“Now what?”

“Let’s take my Cessna. We fly into Boston somewhere and rent a car.”

“We’ll still have to stay the night, in order to get to the marina before eight AM,” Dino said.

“So what? We won’t be on an interstate.”



* * *



—

They landed at Hanscom Airport, west of Boston at mid-afternoon and drove into the city in a rental car. They checked into the small, but elegant, hotel that Primmy had booked.

“Here’s a thought,” Stone said.

“Uh-oh,” Dino replied.

“I’ll bet you Kip is sleeping aboard tonight, rather than getting up in the wee hours. Why don’t we drop in to see him after dinner?”

They had dinner in the hotel restaurant, then drove to the marina.

“Where will we find the boat?” Dino asked.

Primmy went into a little shed, talked with a young man for ten seconds, then returned. “Hotshot is moored in berth G 12, right over there.” She pointed.

“Lead the way,” Stone said. Then he stopped them. “Primmy, we need some sort of wedge with Kip.”

“‘Wedge’?”

“Something we can tell him will happen to him if he lies to us, like going to jail.”

“Tell him you’ll haul his boat to investigate him, if he doesn’t cooperate. He would miss the start of the race.”





24

They trooped down the pontoons until they came to a handsome yacht where two couples were sitting in the cockpit, drinking beer.

“Hi, Kip!” Primmy said.

“Primmy! What brings you down to the sea? You coming back to me?”

“No, Kip. Let me introduce Mr. Stephen Barton,” she said, slapping Stone on the back, “from the U.S. attorney’s office. The other fellow is U.S. Marshal Dino.”

“Aw, Primmy, not here! This is holy ground.”

“This is salt water, or maybe brackish,” she replied.

Stone spoke up, “Mr. Hapgood . . .”

“Harwood,” Primmy said quickly.

“Mr. Hardwood, you see that crew over there by the travel trailer?” Stone nodded toward a half dozen workmen standing around, smoking cigarettes. “They’re standing by to haul your boat—and a very pretty boat it is—”

“Yacht,” Kip said.

“Yacht, sure, but it has the same destination, whatever you call it.”

“What destination?”

“A yacht auction that starts at nine AM.”

“What?”

“You heard him, pal,” Dino said, flashing his badge too quickly for it to be read. “Speak up or cough up.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Kip asked, feigning outrage.

Stone spotted fear under the outrage, and he knew he had his man. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Stone said. “The easy way, and you start your race tomorrow morning. The hard way, and you will be unavailable for sailing, since you will be in federal lockup. Your yacht will be sold at auction, with the proceeds going to the government. You still get to make the monthly payments, though.”

Kip turned to his friends. “You mind going below for a few minutes so I can have a private conversation with this gentleman?”

His friends got up and shuffled below.

“Okay,” Kip said, when they had gone. “What do you want?”

“We’re checking on the veracity of some testimony you have previously provided to a police officer—to wit, that, the day after finishing the Nantucket race, Eben and Enos Stone sailed aboard Hotshot for Boston and didn’t arrive until that night.”