“Scrambled,” Stone replied.
“Bad news,” Lance said. “The party canceled their reservations at the inn.”
“I think I know why,” Stone replied, then told him about Tsarina.
“That sounds like what Chekhov would name a yacht,” Lance said. “I’ll see that we have some people waterborne.”
They drove into the marina parking lot, where two crewmembers from Breeze awaited with luggage carts, and soon they were aboard.
Vanessa stopped as she entered the saloon. “Perfectly beautiful,” she said.
“Come have a look at our cabin.”
She followed him below and was suitably impressed by their quarters.
“Have a seat,” Stone said. “I have something to tell you.”
She did so. “Is this bad?”
“No, not at all. It’s just information. Lance Cabot called me yesterday and told me that Mac and Laura McIntosh had reservations at an inn in Edgartown, along with a guest named Baker. It’s the same inn where they brought Peter three years ago.”
“Then they’re here?”
“Not at the inn. Lance called to say they had canceled. But there’s a huge yacht anchored outside the harbor called Tsarina.”
“I think I’m getting the picture,” Vanessa said. “It’s Chekhov, isn’t it?”
“That’s my best guess. Who else would name his yacht after a dead Russian empress?”
“How can I avoid Mother?” she asked.
“Just stay aboard. We’ll be dining here, anyway, but if you go shopping, you just might run into someone from their party. It’s up to you how you want to handle that.”
“Well, I had counted on buying some things here,” she said. “Do you know when they arrived?”
“They may not even be here yet. I expect that when they are, they’ll go directly to the yacht, just as we did.”
Vanessa stood up. “Then I’d better go shopping now,” she said, “before they start to roam.”
Stone went to his bag and produced a small semiautomatic pistol. “Then take this with you, just in case. You know how to work it?”
Vanessa popped the magazine and ejected the round in the chamber onto the bed, then reloaded, pumped a round into the magazine, and set the safety. “I do,” she said.
“I’ll ask Viv to go along, too. She’s always armed.”
“Under what circumstances should I shoot somebody?”
“Only when it’s absolutely the only way out of whatever predicament you’re in,” Stone replied. “And if you have to, try not to kill anybody. Of course, if they’re shooting at you—or about to—go for the middle of the chest or the head, depending on how close they are.”
Vanessa took a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay,” she said, tossing the pistol into her handbag, “Let’s go.”
55
Vanessa and Viv got themselves together to leave the yacht, and Stone took Viv aside. “Did you see the huge yacht outside the harbor?” he asked.
“I did. Is it Chekhov’s?”
“I expect so, and I expect the McIntoshes and Vanessa’s mother, Betty, to be aboard her by dinnertime, perhaps sooner.”
“I’ll watch myself and Vanessa, too,” she said, patting her waist where her pistol resided.
“Vanessa is packing, too, and she seems to know how to handle it.”
“Good.”
“Don’t shoot each other,” he said, then watched them walk down the boarding steps and off toward the center of Edgartown.
Dino stepped up beside him. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yes,” Stone replied. “Let’s go.” He put on a light jacket to conceal his weapon, and they went up the dock and ashore, then looked around. “Do you see them?”
“No,” Dino said. “How could they disappear so fast?”
“Into a shop,” Stone said. “Let’s have a seat.” He pointed at a bench. The two settled there and had a clear view of downtown Edgartown.
Dino got fidgety. “Where the hell are they?”
“Have you forgotten how long it takes two women to shop?” Stone asked.
“Four times as long as one woman,” Dino replied.
“They’re in one of the shops we can see. They didn’t have time to get any farther.”
A tall, elderly man, clad in white trousers, deck shoes, a blue sailing jacket, and a rumpled tennis hat blocked their view. “Shove over,” he ordered.
Stone and Dino moved over, and he sat down.
“I believe we have a mutual acquaintance, Mr. Barrington.”
“Oh?”
“I’m Percy Willard,” he said, not offering a hand. “Your women are in the shoe shop over there.” He nodded rather than pointed.
“Oh, God,” Dino said, “not the shoe shop! They’ll be in there all day.”
“You would know better than I,” Percy said. “My wife’s been dead for fifteen years.”
“I hear you’re station chief here, Percy,” Stone said.
“Not much of a station,” he replied. “Just me. And call me Perce.”
“I’m Stone, he’s Dino.”
They sat silently and waited, while Perce pretended to read a New York Times.
“Will you join us for dinner aboard Breeze?” Stone asked.
“I’m a Connecticut Yankee,” Perce replied, “and as such, I never turn down anything free. What time?”
“Come at six-thirty for free booze.”
“How dressed?”
“Up.”
“May I bring a date?”
“Of course.”
“You talked me into it. You’ve seen Tsarina?”
“Hard to miss her,” Stone said.
“Wretched excess,” he replied.
“It’s what Russians do with stolen money.”
“Quite right.”
They were silent for a moment. “What would you do with stolen money?” Stone asked, to pass the time.
“Hide it somewhere and buy better scotch and wines, then drink the evidence,” Perce replied. “I see a blonde and a redhead with shopping bags.”