Read Online Nantucket Sawbuck by Steven Axelrod - Free Book Online

children were growing up. We never even had a key. I could leave my basket on the car seat downtown without a second thought. I’d never do that now.”
    David laughed. “You give them too much credit. We have Reyes lightship baskets all over this house. I’m sure they looked right at them and had absolutely no idea what they were seeing.”
    â€œIf I could just take a look around,” I began again.
    â€œOf course,” Philippa said. “I’m so sorry. Of course you’re busy. Things were taken from the dining room and from David’s study. Here, I’ll show you.”
    Donnelly and Boyce had already been over the place. They were competent detectives. I didn’t expect to find anything useful. I was there more for public relations than police work. I followed Philippa into David’s study. David himself was just behind us. “I remember Chief McGrady,” he was saying. “It was different Nantucket in those days. Bunny ran his Jeepster into a lighting pole right on Main Street one night, drunk as a hoot owl. He tottered down to the station to report it. McGrady was working late. He said, “You’re a Lattimer, aren’t you? Just go on home and let me take care of this.” That was how things were in the old days. Chief McGrady would no more have arrested a Lattimer than sprouted wings and flown away.”
    â€œAn extraordinary man,” Philippa said.
    â€œBig shoes to fill,” I agreed.
    They all hovered in the doorway for a moment.
    â€œWell, we’ll let you get to it,” David said.
    I walked into the cramped, book-lined study and turned on the desk light. There were two neat stacks of papers and an old IBM Selectric typewriter. A jar of pencils that needed sharpening, an ashtray that needed cleaning.
    â€œNothing to see, Chief,” Donnelly said. “We dusted. No prints. So they were smart enough to wear gloves, at least. There’s no sign of a break-in. Mr. Lattimer says they’ve been locking the place up for the last few years, but who knows? They don’t have an alarm system. No neighbors around except at Thanksgiving. Could have happened any time since Labor Day.”
    Something caught my eye. I kneeled down next to desk. It was a cigarette butt, burned almost down to the filter. Two small amber cones were visible: the top of some insignia printed on the paper. I recognized it instantly: a Camel. I picked it up with a pair of tweezers from my coat pocket and held it up to the two detectives. They weren’t impressed.
    â€œWe saw it, Chief,” Boyce said.
    â€œMr. Lattimer smokes Camels,” Donnelly added.
    â€œBut he doesn’t usually leave them on the floor. Look at the ashtray on his desk.”
    There were two butts stumped out in the square cut-crystal.
    â€œSo he dropped one and forgot about it. He’s old. Lucky the house didn’t burn down.”
    I nodded. “Sure. Makes sense. But look at the cigarette. Check it out.” I extended the tweezers under the desk lamp. The two detectives made a show of looking it over.
    â€œNothing?”
    â€œNot that I can see,” said Donnelly.
    Boyce just shrugged.
    I smiled. “I have the advantage here. This used to be my brand. See the little gold band just above the filter? Camel Lights.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œSo Lattimer smokes regulars.” I plucked a butt from the ashtray. “See? No gold band. These guys were dumb enough to leave a cigarette butt here. And now we know what brand they smoke.”
    â€œYeah but…I mean, what do we do with that piece of information, Chief?”
    â€œRemember it.”
    I set the cigarette down on the floor again. “Bag this. Finish up with the Lattimers. And get me the paperwork by this afternoon.”
    I checked the dining room, but didn’t see anything useful. I looked into the kitchen one more time on the way out.
    â€œMr. Lattimer?”
    David and Philippa