Stuart Woods_Stone Barrington 12

around,” the lieutenant said.
    â€œThank you, Lieutenant.”
    â€œAnd I’ll call you at this number when I find out?”
    â€œPlease do that; I’ll wait for your call.”
    â€œBye-bye, Sergeant.”
    The lieutenant closed his cell phone, finished his coffee and started the car. He drove down to the main marina and parked his cruiser on a yellow curb and got out. He strolled down to the marina and walked into the dockmaster’s office.
    â€œHey, Charlie,” he said to the man behind the desk.
    â€œMorning, Jake.”
    â€œYou got a boat named…” He consulted his notebook. “… Potshot ?”
    Charlie picked up a clipboard and ran his finger down to the P s. “That’s Potshot ?”
    â€œRight.”
    â€œNope. Nothing by that name.”
    â€œIt didn’t come in here with the race from Newport?”
    â€œIt didn’t come in here at all, with anybody.”
    Jake nodded. He flipped open his cell phone and called Maine.
    â€œSergeant Young.”
    â€œSergeant, it’s Jake Potter, in Nantucket.”
    â€œYes, Lieutenant?”
    â€œI’m down at the marina office; there’s no boat by that name in the marina. It’s not on the dockmaster’s list.”
    â€œWell, that’s pretty interesting,” Young said.
    â€œAnything else I can do for you?”
    â€œDoes the dockmaster have a list of people on the yachts?”
    â€œHang on, I’ll ask him. Charlie, do you have a list of the people that come in here on these boats?”
    Charlie shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t care less who comes in here on the boats; all I want to know is what I have to find space for.”
    â€œNo, Sergeant, he doesn’t have a list of people.”
    â€œLieutenant, do you think you could just take a walk around the marina and see if there’s a yacht named Hotshot ?”
    â€œOh, you’re looking for another boat, now?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œI don’t understand.”
    â€œI’m just looking for the one.”
    â€œPotshot?”
    â€œNo, not Potshot, Hotshot. With an H for hotel .”
    â€œWell, why didn’t you say so?”
    â€œCould you ask the dockmaster about Hotshot, please?”
    â€œHang on. Charlie, now he wants a boat named Hotshot. You got one of them?”
    Charlie picked up his clipboard and ran a finger down to the H s. “Yep, I’ve got just one Hotshot : dock three, berth fourteen.”
    â€œSergeant?”
    â€œYes?”
    â€œHe’s got a Hotshot all right: dock three, berth fourteen.”
    â€œGreat! Could you go down there and have a look at it?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œWait a minute. I’ve got a better idea.”
    â€œWhat’s that?”
    â€œLet me speak to the dockmaster, please.”
    Jake handed his phone to Charlie.
    â€œCharlie here.”
    â€œCharlie, this is Sergeant Young of the Maine State Police.” He explained his problem and described the twins. “Rather than have a uniformed officer go down to the boat, could you or one of your people go to the boat and tell them there’s a phone call for either Eben Stone or Enos Stone in your office?”
    â€œBut there isn’t a phone call.”
    â€œI just want to know if they’re on the boat. If they’re not, ask if they’re in the village or on the island somewhere.”
    â€œAnd if they are on the boat?”
    â€œAsk for a cell phone number and tell them you’ll refer the call.”
    â€œWhat call?”
    â€œThe imaginary call. If they want to know why the caller never called them, you don’t know. All you did was give him the message.”
    â€œOkay. I can do that in a few minutes.”
    Young gave him the cell phone number. “Can I speak to the lieutenant again?”
    â€œThis is Jake.”
    â€œLieutenant, thanks so much for your help.”
    â€œWhat help?”

51
    J AKE POTTER POURED himself a cup of the dockmaster’s coffee and gazed out the window at the yachts in their slips. This state cop, Young, from Maine had something real good going, he reflected. Multiple murders, serial killer, mucho publicity in the Boston papers and TV. Jake didn’t like state cops; they always wanted to come in and take over a local investigation. They’d had a real good murder on Nantucket the previous summer, and the Massachusetts state cops were all over it like flies