“Well, I’ll drive down to the marina and have a look around,” the lieutenant said.
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“And I’ll call you at this number when I find out?”
“Please do that; I’ll wait for your call.”
“Bye-bye, Sergeant.”
The lieutenant closed his cell phone, finished his coffee and started the car. He drove down to the main marina and parked his cruiser on a yellow curb and got out. He strolled down to the marina and walked into the dockmaster’s office.
“Hey, Charlie,” he said to the man behind the desk.
“Morning, Jake.”
“You got a boat named…” He consulted his notebook. “.. .Potshot?”
Charlie picked up a clipboard and ran his finger down to the Ps. “That’s Potshot?”
“Right.”
“Nope. Nothing by that name.”
“It didn’t come in here with the race from Newport?”
“It didn’t come in here at all, with anybody.”
Jake nodded. He flipped open his cell phone and called Maine.
“Sergeant Young.”
“Sergeant, it’s Jake Potter, in Nantucket.”
“Yes, Lieutenant?”
“I’m down at the marina office; there’s no boat by that name in the marina. It’s not on the dockmaster’s list.”
“Well, that’s pretty interesting,” Young said.
“Anything else I can do for you?”
“Does the dockmaster have a list of people on the yachts?”
“Hang on, I’ll ask him. Charlie, do you have a list of the people that come in here on these boats?”
Charlie shook his head. “Nope. I couldn’t care less who comes in here on the boats; all I want to know is what I have to find space for.”
“No, Sergeant, he doesn’t have a list of people.”
“Lieutenant, do you think you could just take a walk around the marina and see if there’s a yacht named Hotshot?”
“Oh, you’re looking for another boat, now?”
“No.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’m just looking for the one.”