Shoot Him If He Runs

11

The following afternoon, while the others were napping, Stone took a stroll down to the marina. The place had been expanded since his earlier visit; there were probably three dozen berths, as opposed to the previous dozen, but there was only one Hinckley Bermuda 40. He walked down the pontoon and looked her over.

Harry said he had changed the deck layout, and Stone saw that the halyard winches had been moved to the top of the coachroof, a sensible change, since it allowed sails to be hoisted from the cockpit, and two large electric winches had replaced the original equipment. A windvane self-steering system was attached to the stern, with its attendant lines, and both the headsail and main were roller reefing.

“Hello there,” a voice behind him said. Harry had appeared with a couple of shopping bags.

“Hello, Harry; I was just looking over your boat.”

“Come aboard, then,” Harry said. Yachtsmen were always anxious to show off their boats. Harry unlocked the hatch, set the shopping bags below and waved Stone down.

Stone climbed down the companionway ladder and looked around. He had never seen a more neatly kept vessel; the yacht was the very definition of “shipshape.” “I’m impressed,” he said.

“Thank you, Stone, I’ve done a lot of work on her.” He began showing Stone his stowage plan, his tool locker and his central heating system. Finally, they sat down, and Harry produced a pair of bloody marys.

“Thanks for the drink last night,” Harry said. “I’m sorry Irene got a little snockered; we had a drink before we left the house, and it was all on an empty stomach.”

“We enjoyed having you. It was interesting hearing about her work at the CIA.”

“Yeah, she’s gotten so she likes to talk about it, if she has a good audience. Funny, your cousin being employed there.”

“Yes; as I said, I didn’t even know that until he was dead. Our respective sides of the family didn’t talk much, but the summer I was eighteen, his folks invited me up to Dark Harbor, in Maine, to spend a few weeks. Dick and I got fairly close at that time, but I didn’t see him again until eight or nine years ago, when he took me out to dinner in New York. I thought he was working for the State Department. Then, all of a sudden, he sent me a retainer and his will and appointed me his executor. A few days later, he was dead, murdered.”

“And you never talked in all those years apart?”

“Just that one dinner.”

“What does your girlfriend do?”

“Ginny? She has a little flying school in Florida. We met when I bought an airplane in Vero Beach from Piper some years ago, and we’ve seen each other once in a while since then.”

“And Dino?”

“Dino’s a cop, a detective; we used to be partners when I was on the force. His girl, Genevieve, is an emergency room nurse at a hospital in New York.”

“You’re a mixed group.”

“I guess we are at that. Tell me, how is it you have enough power for those electric winches?”

“I put in larger batteries and a second alternator; I never did like grinding winches.”

“I’m with you there. Did you enjoy your solo time on the way down here?”

“I did, though I have to admit, I got a little horny.” He grinned. “I was glad to see Irene when I got here.”

“So you were close back in Virginia?”

“I wouldn’t say close; she seemed to work constantly and didn’t have a lot of free time, but we got together now and then.”

“Did she talk about her work in those days?”

“Not a peep. I didn’t even know what she did, until one of my other customers, her neighbor, told me.”

“How’d she end up here?”

“Well, when she retired she went to St. Barts, but she didn’t like it much. She likes it better here; less highfalutin and they speak English. Real estate prices are lower, too.”

“Did you do any of the renovation on her place?”

“No, I just got here a couple of days ago; she hired a local firm, and they did a pretty good job. I’m cleaning up their work here and there and doing a couple of little things for her.”

“I’m sure she’s glad to have you here. How long are you staying?”

“Oh, a few weeks, I guess; until the wanderlust bites again, or until Irene and I can’t stand each other anymore.”

“Were you ever married, Harry?”

“Nope; lifelong bachelor.”

“Me, too,” Stone said. “Not a bad life.”

“Not bad at all.”

They seemed to have run out of things to talk about. Stone glanced at his watch. “Well, I’d better get back to the cottage; the others are napping, but there was talk of an afternoon swim.”

“I hear that’s a nudie beach down there.”

“I can confirm that.”

“I’ve gotta have a look at that; Irene would probably like it, too. By the way, she’s looking forward to having you all for dinner; she’s cooking up a storm. I don’t think she knows all that many locals, so she’s glad of the company.”

“We’re looking forward, too,” Stone said. They shook hands, and Stone walked back to the cottage.

Holly came out of the bedroom, yawning. “Hey, where you been?”

“I took a walk down to the marina; saw Harry’s boat, and we had a nice chat. He pumped me a little, but not enough to be unseemly.”

“Did you pump him, too?”

“Not much; didn’t want to seem too curious.”

“Just as well.”

“Something interesting, though; Harry turns out to be a neat-freak. I’ve never seen a boat that well put together: a place for everything, and everything in its place.”

“You know, when Teddy got away from New York, we found the place he had used as a workshop. It was cleaned out, but I remember one thing: there was a lot of pegboard on the walls, where tools had been hanging, and he had painted the outline of every tool, so he’d know where to replace it after he’d used it. That’s being pretty neat.”

“I think that’s pretty obsessive. I didn’t see anything like that aboard his boat, but I guess he has neatness in common with Teddy.”

“He’s not Teddy; he’s an entirely different physical type. And then there’s the hair, of course. I don’t think Teddy could have learned how to grow hair since he left New York.”

“I have to agree,” Stone said.

“Feel like a swim?” she asked, unbuttoning her blouse.

“Oh, yeah,” Stone said, shucking off clothes.