Wild Secret

justice," she said. "Plus, when you wrap this up, it'll give the family closure."
“Closure ain't gonna bring the girl back,” I said with a frown.
A breaking news alert flashed on the TV behind the bar. Paris Delaney's gorgeous face appeared on the screen. “A retired businessman has been arrested in connection with the death of Skyler Locke. As we reported earlier, the young girl's body was found at sea, contained in a steel drum. Randy Murdoch was arrested at the Coconut Key Country Club earlier today."
Randy's mugshot flashed on the screen. It was readily available from the county website under the recent arrests tab. The image of Randy wearing his Members Only jacket in front of the red convertible flashed on the screen next. Somebody in the department had taken a picture of it and texted Paris a copy.
"The investigation is ongoing, and we will continue to give you updates as the story develops. For Action News, I'm Paris Delaney."
"Do you guys know what you want to eat?" Teagan asked.
We perused the menu and placed our order. We started with chips and the crab, spinach, and artichoke dip. JD ordered the stone crab claws, and I got a crab cake sandwich.
Denise called during lunch. "You’re not gonna like this. You know that kid you arrested for DUI the other night?”
"Yeah, Cameron Hartsell. What about him?”
“The charges were dropped."
I lifted an astonished brow. "All of them?"
"All of them. Got a slap on the wrist. His lawyer worked out some kind of non-prosecution agreement. Got off with a fine."
"Saved again by daddy's money."
"That's not all," she said. “I started digging. There are a lot of cases getting dismissed or receiving lesser penalties."
"What's that about?"
"It seems Coconut County’s State Attorney is letting these people off easy if they make contributions to the Forward Fund.”
"Is that legal?"
“Not on the federal level. Settlements to third parties are prohibited under the Federal rules of criminal procedure. But for state crimes, it seems they get a pass."
"That sounds ripe for a conflict of interest," I said. "Keep digging into that. See what you can find."
"Well, you'll have a chance to talk with Stella at tonight's charity event."
"Oh, right," I said.
“I thought you might have forgotten about that."
"No, I didn’t forget. It just left my mind."
She chuckled. “I’ll talk to you later."
I relayed the information to JD.
His face twisted with an annoyed scowl. "I swear, there’s more corruption in this town…"
I called Isabella, my contact at Cobra Company. I asked her to drum up as much information as she could about Stella Turner and the Coconut Key Forward Fund.
"Investigating charities now?" she asked.
"See where it leads." I filled her in on the situation. "Any word on Elias Fink or Sophia Breslin?"
"No, but I've got my ears to the ground. Trust me. I'll let you know as soon as they pop up on my radar."
We finished lunch, then headed back to the Avventura and cleaned up the mess from the after-party. I usually got stuck holding the bag in that department, so I was pleased to have a little help from JD.
We had a free afternoon, so we took the boat out, fished, searched for the lost treasure of Jacques De La Fontaine, and drank a few beers. We headed back to Coconut Key in time to get dressed for the evening.
JD headed home to make himself look more presentable. It was a black-tie fundraiser, and I dusted off my Di Fiore tux, put on my cummerbund and tie, and styled my hair.
Denise swung by the marina in her banana yellow SUV to pick me up. She texted me when she pulled into the lot, and I strolled down the dock and climbed into the passenger seat. She looked divine in a black strapless evening gown that hugged her petite form. Pearls dangled from her elegant neck, and her emerald eyes sparkled.
"I might not be totally embarrassed to be seen with you,” I teased.
She sneered at me. Her eyes surveyed my attire. "Yeah, well, you’re not a total embarrassment either. I could do worse."
I laughed.
We drove out of the lot and headed over to JD's. Denise pulled into the circular drive and honked the horn.
JD emerged a few moments later wearing a tuxedo with a Hawaiian-print cummerbund and tie. His hair was slicked back into a tight ponytail, and he wore dark sunglasses. He looked like a cross between a sleazy record producer and a covert agent. Neither was far from the truth.
He climbed into the backseat, and we zipped across the island to the Seven Seas.
Jack inhaled a deep breath. "I see you got the smell out of the car."
"I took it to your friend. They detailed it inside and out. Did a paint correction, buffed out all the scratches, and put a ceramic coating on it."
"It looks nice," JD said. "I wish my car looked this nice.”
“What are you gonna do about that?"
"I haven't had time to take it in yet."
We pulled into the lot at the luxury hotel. Attendees in formal evening attire hopped out of luxury vehicles at the valet stand, and parking attendants hustled cars through the lot. There was a long line of cars, and the valets had used orange parking cones to take up every available space in the lot, forcing you to use the valet at $28.50 a pop.
Jackasses.
It took 15 minutes to get through the line. An attendant grabbed Denise's door and handed her a ticket, while another grabbed mine and JD's.
We hopped out, straightened our jackets, and strolled into the lobby. We moved past the waterfall, past the elevator banks, and headed toward the pool.
Coconut County's elite mixed and mingled. A quartet played classical music, and a small stage was set up with a podium and PA speakers. Palm trees swayed overhead, and the pool was illuminated.
I saw Daniels across the pool, mingling. He hated these kinds of things, but elections weren’t cheap, and it was always good to keep up relationships.
We made a beeline for the bar and