Double Jeopardy

49

Stone and Dino were enjoying a second cup of coffee the following morning, while the women were taking the sun on the dock, when the doorbell rang. Stone carefully used the peephole, then opened it. “Come in, Billy.”

Billy entered looking troubled.

“Coffee?” Stone asked.

“Sure, black, please.”

Stone poured a mug and handed it to him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Your house,” Billy said.

“Okay, which house?”

“The one you’re selling to the Petersons.”

“What troubles you about it?”

“The Petersons.”

“You think they haven’t got the cash to close?”

“Sure they have. You think I wouldn’t check that out on a sale this size?”

“Then what about the Petersons?”

“I don’t know.”

Dino spoke up. “Does the deal smell bad, Billy?”

“No, the Petersons.”

“Fishy smell?”

“No, there’s a cop expression when something’s not quite right about somebody.”

“What’s the expression?” Dino asked.

“That’s what I’m asking you. You’re the cop.”

Dino stared at the ceiling. “Hinky?”

“That’s it. There’s something hinky about them.”

“Dino,” Stone said, “can you run their names?”

“What are their first names again?”

“Smith and Coco.”

“Is Coco short for something?”

“Beats me. Nobody’s named Coconut. Can you run their names?”

Dino got out his iPhone and went to work with his thumbs.

“One thing,” Billy said, “is that they were both armed.”

“With what?”

“Pistols. He was wearing a shoulder holster under his left arm, and I got a look into her bag, and there was a little, pearl-handled job in there.”

“They’re New Yorkers, right?”

Dino broke in. “Right, they are. And they’re clean — not even an old parking ticket.”

“See if they have carry licenses,” Stone said.

Dino typed some more.

“Carry licenses are very difficult to get in New York,” Stone explained to Billy.

“Yes,” Dino said. “He does, not she. And it’s only a few weeks old.”

“Can you get a look at their application?” Stone asked.

“That will take a little longer,” Dino said “Some more coffee might help.”

Stone poured him more.

“Got it,” Dino said.

“What did he give as a reason?”

“Says he has a crazy patient who has repeatedly threatened his life.”

“I’ve never heard of a dermatologist with a murderous patient,” Dino said.

“Who has?”

“Something else. His application includes a letter of recommendation from my chief of detectives. That’s why he got the license.” He dialed a number. “Hey, it’s Dino. Is he in?” He listened. “Okay, do you know if he knows a dermatologist named Smith Peterson?” He listened. “Thanks, Christine.” Dino hung up. “He’s up the Amazon on a cruise ship, but his secretary says that Peterson is a friend from college days.”

Stone looked at Billy. “He’s got a crazy patient, and he knows the chief of detectives. You see anything hinky in that?”

Billy shook his head. “Nah, it’s just a feeling, and I can’t shake it.”

“Are the Petersons still on the island?”

“I don’t know. They were staying at the inn.”

“Why don’t you arrange to bump into them somewhere and put your nose back to work? Call me, if you learn something.”

Billy finished his coffee and left.

“Maybe Billy is crazy,” Dino said.

“I’ve never thought so, but he’s very good at reading people.”

“A valuable skill in a real estate guy.”

“He told me once that he could always separate the lookers from the buyers,” Stone said. “Right away.”

“Apparently, he can separate the hinky from the normal, too,” Dino said. “He just doesn’t know why.”