Double Jeopardy

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.”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“We now have two witnesses to contradict that testimony and say that you were lying. Answer this — and be careful to be truthful. There’s a lot at risk here.”

“Oh, all right.”

“Did Enos and Eben Stone sail aboard that day or did they fly their airplane to Islesboro?”

Kip looked abashed.

“Tell me the truth, and we’re outta here,” Stone said. “Otherwise...”

“You want me to rat out two friends and clients, is that it?”

Stone cupped his hands and shouted toward the travel lift, “Okay, guys, crank her up. We’ll motor over there!” He turned to Kip. “Let me have the ignition keys.”

“Okay,” Kip said. “I’ll rat them out, but what do I get?”

“You get to keep your yacht and start the race tomorrow and not be charged as an accessory to rape and murder.”

“They did not sail aboard this boat from Nantucket to Boston. They had their Cessna at the Nantucket airport, and I don’t know where they went.”

“Are you ready to testify to that in court?”

“Court?” Kip asked weakly.

“That’s a good thing for you. They’ll be in jail until the trial, not looking for you.”

“I’ll swear to it!” Kip said.

“Good. You are to keep this conversation entirely confidential. That means you tell no one about it, especially the Stone twins. Understood?”

“Understood,” Kip said, nodding vigorously.

Stone yelled at the crew ashore again. “Never mind, guys!”

The men ashore shrugged and went back to smoking.

“Thanks for your time,” Dino said. “We’ll be in touch when we need you. Be sure to be available at all times, on a moment’s notice.”

The three walked back up the pontoon to their rental car. They waited until they were driving away before exploding in laughter.

“God,” Primmy said. “I hope the U.S. attorney doesn’t hear about this. You guys will be in terrible trouble!”

“Trouble? Us?” Stone said. “You’re the one who said I was the U.S. attorney and that Dino was a federal marshal!”

Primmy looked stunned. “But...”

“No buts,” Stone said, then he couldn’t stand it anymore and started to laugh.

“I’m going to get you for that!” Primmy shouted. She held up her iPhone. “And you better be nice, if you want the recording of what Kip said.”

“Peace!” Stone shouted. He got out his cell phone and called Sergeant Young.

“Tom Young.”

“Tom, it’s Stone Barrington.”

“Not again,” Young moaned. “What now?”

“I have a recording of an interview with Kip Harwood, admitting that the Stone twins did not, repeat did not, sail back to Boston on his yacht on the day of the last murder in Islesboro, and that they left Nantucket on their airplane!”

“No shit? And do you have testimony on where they landed and when, and when they took off again?”

“Not yet. I thought you might want the honor of wrapping it up.”

“Yeah, sure, the honor! Nice try! Tell you what, you get me a written, sworn statement from Kip that puts them on Islesboro at the time of the murder, and I’ll see what I can do.”

“You’re an unreasonable man, Tom. I’m giving you the cake. All you need to provide is the icing.”

“You give me both, and I’ll give you the knife to slice it with.”

“I have to do everything around here,” Stone muttered.

“Now you know how I feel!” He hung up.

“Well,” Stone said, “it was worth a try.”