“Seems like short notice.”
“They just want a police presence to supplement.”
We finished up at the station, then headed back to theAvventurato get ready for the evening.
JD and I boarded the superyacht, and Buddy waited for us at the salon door. I knelt down and petted the little Jack Russell, then grabbed his leash and took him for a quick walk. Fluffy reclined on the sofa, wagging her tail, the master of all she surveyed. It was her world, we just lived in it.
After I got back, we had enough time to shovel down an early dinner at Diver Down. We took a seat at the bar, and I filled Teagan in on all the happenings. She’d seen Kendall’s picture on the news.
“You think she’ll turn up?”
I shrugged. “You’re the psychic. You tell me.”
Teagan frowned. “I don’t know. I don’t want to go there.”
She never liked to use her supposed powers. But she always had good intuition.
My phone buzzed with a call from Isabella. “I looked into your girl. Her phone went dark Friday evening around 7:00 PM.”
“That’s about the time she left her apartment.”
“That’s the last place the phone pings the tower. Battery could have died. She could have turned it off. Who knows? I’ll let you know if anything pops up.”
I thanked her for the info, then ended the call. I couldn’t use any of the information she gave in court, but it sure came in handy.
JD and I waddled down the dock to theAvventura, fat and happy. I took a shower, then got dressed in a Di Fiore tux with cummerbund and tie. Understated elegance.
Jack, on the other hand, wore a black tux with tails and a purple waistcoat with a black brocade pattern. Still elegant, but a little on the flashy side. With his slicked-back hair, he looked part rockstar, part gangster. He was often mistaken for a famous ’80s rock singer, but with the success of Wild Fury and his failed mayoral campaign, plenty of people recognized him for who he was. That could be good or bad, depending on our situation.
We caught a Town Car to the gala, which was held in the Pearl Ballroom at the Seven Seas. It was the premier luxury resort on the island. With a host of suites, private cabanas, stunning views, and a white sand man-made beach, it was an oasis amid an oasis.
The car dropped us off at the main entrance, and the valet grabbed our doors. We climbed out and stepped into the lobby like movie stars.
Cameras flashed as paparazzi snapped photos, hoping to catch frames of Coconut Key’s elite and the many celebrities that inhabited the island.
The guests were dressed to the nines.
Elegant gowns, spike-heeled shoes, salon-styled updos, low-cut necklines, sparkly necklaces, eye-catching décolletage, and designer tuxedos. As usual with these types of events, it was aWho's Whoof Coconut Key.
We followed the trail of socialites to the Pearl Ballroom.
Staff hurried about, serving hors d'oeuvres, handing out glasses of wine and champagne. There were several full bars where you could order the hard stuff.
I spotted a few big guys wearing tuxedos, standing by the main entrance. The wireless earpieces gave them away. I figured them for private security staff. Dressed in formal attire, they didn't stick out like sore thumbs—other than the fact that they filled out their jackets more than the average guest. The two guys near the door stood about 6’3” and were full of muscles.
I made my way through the maze of tables and chairs to the front of the ballroom. The guests would be served a full-course meal. The fee just to attend was astronomical. It certainly kept the riffraff out.
French doors opened to the beach. Teal waves crashed against the shore. There were plenty of entrances and exits.
It was a security nightmare.
Two long serving tables on either side of the main riser were decked out with priceless jewelry to be auctioned off. Guests could get up close and personal with the stunning gemstones. This wasn’t a crowd that was used to looking at things through glass cases. As such, there were no security measures on the tables, other than two more guards.
The proceeds benefited the Children's Hospital. Wealthy people loved getting together to spend money on sparkly rocks for a good cause.
A woman in her mid-30s with wavy chocolate hair bossed people around. She fit the description of Delilah. She was my contact point for the event and looked like she was coordinating everything from the hors d'oeuvres to the security.
We approached just as she finished giving a server instructions. With a discrete flash of the badge and a smile, I said, "I'm Deputy Tyson Wild. This is my partner, Jack Donovan."
