“What?”

“Filters. You look for a yacht. If you know its name, you enter that in the search thingie, and so on. It filters out everything that is not as you’re describing it.”

“Well, the name of the yacht is Hotshot, and we know the owner’s nickname is Kip.”

“Well, why didn’t you just ask me?” Primmy said.

“You have the yacht registry tucked away in your brain somewhere?”

“No, but I know the yacht. And I know Kip.”

“Yeah?” Dino asked. “What’s Kip short for?”

“His name is K. P. Harwood. His friends just left out the i. He owns Hotshot, which is a custom-built Hinckley 54, probably paid for with his clients’ money.”

“And how do you know this?”

“Because Kip is my stockbroker, or was, until the feds got onto him for a few not-exactly-legal moves he was making. When I heard about that, I found a new stockbroker. Who needs her money tied up in a federal investigation for several years?”

Dino turned and looked at Stone. “Why doesn’t she just conduct the investigation for us?”

“Well, she’s doing better than the Maine State Police and the Nantucket Police Department and us, put together, isn’t she?”

“Why don’t you two just tell me what you want, and I’ll see if I can help,” Primmy said.

“Can you figure out where Hotshot is docked? We know it’s in Boston.”

“At the Fairwater Yacht Haven in Back Bay.”

“She’s like Siri,” Dino said. “You just ask her, and the answer pops out. Where the hell is Back Bay?”

“Fairwater Yacht Haven is on the Charles River, down from Cambridge. You want directions? Nearby restaurants? Tattoo parlors? Cheap parking?”

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to take her along?” Dino asked.

“I believe you may be right, Dino,” Stone said.

“Second time today! Do you think a 1938 Ford woodie station wagon can get to Boston and back without putting us afoot on an interstate?”

“Seth keeps that car in perfect condition,” Stone said.

“We should go now,” Primmy said. “There’s a race to Provincetown tomorrow, and everybody will be clearing the marina by eight AM.”

“Do you think we’ll find Kip there?”

“Kip never misses a race,” she says. “When he’s on the water, he’s harder for the U.S. attorney to find.”

“We’d better pack an overnight bag,” Stone said. “Siri. Excuse me, Primmy, can you recommend a hotel?”

“Sure. What kind of hotel would you like?”

“One with thick walls,” Dino said. “I don’t want to spend the night listening to you two.”

“I’ve got a better idea,” Stone said.

“Now what?”

“Let’s take my Cessna. We fly into Boston somewhere and rent a car.”

“We’ll still have to stay the night, in order to get to the marina before eight AM,” Dino said.

“So what? We won’t be on an interstate.”

—