A Safe House

22

Stone and Lance met Dino at the airfield the following morning in the station wagon, and they made the next ferry to Lincolnville.

“Where we headed?” Dino asked.

“First, to Camden. And if that’s not fruitful, to Rockland,” Stone replied. “Lance’s people scored some hits on a boat last night, and we want to visit a few boatyards and see if we can find it.”

“Good idea.”

They drove into Camden Harbor and began trudging from boatyard to boatyard. On the second one they got lucky. There she sat, hauled out and resting on a cradle, a half dozen bullet holes in her transom and a broken pane in the windshield. Her name was Patsy.

A foreman strolled over. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“We were looking for that boat,” Stone said. “Whose is it?”

“It belonged to a gentleman named Haynes, but he died about a month ago.”

“Peacefully?” Stone asked.

“As far as I know.”

“How did his boat get so beaten up?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” the man said. “It was stolen the night before last, and she was back in her berth this morning. As you can see, a little worse for the wear. There was an envelope on the front seat with a thousand dollars in cash, but that ain’t going to cover it.”

“You don’t have any idea who took her?”

The man shook his head. “They broke into the office, lifted the keys, then when they brought her back they put everything back the way it was. Except for the bullet holes, I mean. By tomorrow, she’ll look the way she always did, and we’ll be a few hundred poorer.”

Lance took an envelope from his pocket and counted out another thousand. “Will that do it?”

“I guess it will. Did you shoot it up?”

“No, some security guards did that, after somebody aboard this boat put a few rounds into the gentleman’s house.” He nodded at Stone.

“Anybody hurt?”

“Not at his place. What about on the boat?”

“There was some blood in the cockpit, but we hosed it down this morning.”

“If you hadn’t done that, we might have known by tonight who stole the boat. Remember, the police like blood.”

“Sorry, I didn’t think of that. The boat’s for sale. I just wanted to get her back on the market as soon as I could. The family could use the money.”

“Well, since you failed to secure the boat, give the money to them and file an insurance claim on the yard’s policy,” Lance said.

“I reckon we can do that.”

“Then good morning to you,” Lance said, and they walked back to the station wagon.

“Well, I’m glad your kids nicked somebody,” Stone said.

Lance snorted. “I wish they’d found brains instead of blood. Then we’d just have to look for somebody with a hole in his head.”

“Let’s check the ER’s,” Stone said.

They did so, and a nurse took a look at the admissions log for the night before. “Man with a leg wound,” she said. “An accident with a farm implement.”

“At 12:34 am?” Stone asked. “What was he farming, bats?”

“It was a gunshot wound,” Lance said. “Did you call the police?”

“No, the attending must have thought it was a plausible story.”

“What was the wounded man’s name?”

She went back to the computer. “Horace Quinn,” she said.

“Close enough to Harley Quince,” Stone said.

“What address?”

“Green Hills Farm, on Route One,” she said.

Lance googled it. “Nothing,” he said. “Let’s go home, but on the way look for a cowboy hat with a limp.”

They saw no limping cowboy hats. Mary had crab stew waiting for them, and they gobbled it up.

Betty Black knocked on the rear door and was admitted. “A couple of my people said they’re sure they hit somebody.”

“At least one of them did,” Lance said. “But it was a dead end. It appears to have been Harley Quince. You’ve got his description. Next time, aim a little higher up; you only nicked a leg.”

“I’ll issue instructions,” she said, then left.

“I wonder if anybody got laid last night,” Lance said. “That might account for the near miss.”

Rawls came over and received the news. “I know that boat, Patsy,” he said. “Fella’s dead.”

“That’s what we were told,” Stone said. “Patsy took half a dozen rounds, though, before they dumped her.”

“Any luck finding the wounded guy?”

“He dutifully reported to the ER, gave a false name and address, got fixed up, and got out,” Lance said.

“Ed,” Stone said, “was anybody around your place last night?”

“I heard a boat, of a size like Patsy, I guess. But it didn’t stop, and nobody shot at me.”

“Maybe you’re next,” Stone said. “I don’t think they’ll come back here tonight, after last night’s reception.”

“I’ll tell Betty to send half of her people over to you, Ed,” Lance said. “Be nice to them.”

“I’ll try not to shoot any of ’em,” Ed said.