Wild Secret

took advantage of the complimentary drinks. There was a silent auction, and people bid on various collectibles and jewelry that had been donated.
We perused the items and waited for the event to begin. It was a little after 7:30 PM when Stella Turner took the stage. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming. I am so excited to share with you all of the great accomplishments we’ve made this past year. The fund has given out over $3 million in grants and is reshaping the community for the better."
The crowd cheered.
Stella smiled. "With your help, we can continue to do great things, so I know you will dig deep and give all that you can. Think of it as an investment in the future of Coconut Key. Thank you all, and enjoy the evening."
The crowd roared with applause.
Stella left the stage with a bright smile, mixing and mingling, glad-handing the mega-donors.
I approached and hovered in the wings, waiting for the opportune time to strike.

36
“I think it’s truly amazing what you’ve been able to accomplish,” I said, putting on my best phony smile. I figured I’d go in soft. Drop the hammer later.
“Why, thank you, Deputy…”
“Wild.”
“Yes, Wild.” Stella smiled. “I’m just passionate about this community.”
“It shows, but let me ask you something. Cameron Hartsell… We recently arrested him for DUI, reckless driving, and a host of other charges. I believe you negotiated a non-prosecution agreement in exchange for a sizable contribution to the fund.”
Stella forced a smile. "Yes. As I recall, it was his first offense.”
“No. It wasn’t his first offense."
"Regardless, given the circumstances, I thought the nature of the fine would be a significant deterrent to future violations. The boy is also a college student, and in the interest of his academic study, I thought this was the best arrangement for all parties involved.”
"It's not really a fine, is it? More of a contribution."
"We can argue the semantics of it all day long, but at the end of the day, this fund is benefiting the community. We are providing assistance to the homeless, meals for the elderly, educational supplies for underprivileged children, the list goes on. Deputy Wild, I've been doing this job long enough to know that once somebody gets into the system, they have a very hard time getting out. It's my belief that we should do everything possible to keep offenders out of the system and use our resources to rehabilitate them and deter future criminal behavior."
"And I can appreciate that. But what happens next time Cameron goes out drinking with his buddies and kills someone."
Her face tensed. "Let's pray a tragedy like that never happens."
She moved on, smiled, and shook someone else's hand. That was the end of our conversation.
JD muttered in my ear, "I'm beginning not to like her."
"I'm gonna keep digging," Denise said. “There's something shady about the whole thing."
"You're telling me,” JD said.
We hung out until the free drinks ended, then the three of us decided to hit Oyster Avenue. Since we were dressed up, we ended up at Keys—an upscale piano bar. There were lots of diamond necklaces, slinky evening gowns, and spike-heeled shoes. We fit right in.
We grabbed a drink from the bar.
The murmur of chatter mixed with smooth jazz.
My phone buzzed with a call from Sheriff Daniels. "We found the silver sedan."
"Where?"
"Mendoza spotted it at the Mega Mart. He happened to be cruising through, and it caught his eye. The shooters must have dumped it there and gotten into another vehicle. It had April McGee’s plates on it. Forensics is dusting the car for prints now, and Mendoza is trying to get security footage of the lot. They found 9mm shell casings in the passenger seat. It's looking like this is definitely the car that did the drive-by on Chuck. Hopefully, we can pull a print from the shell casings."
“That’s great news.”
"I didn’t have time to speak with you at the charity event. I saw you talking to Stella Turner. What was that about?"
"Just a friendly conversation."
"I don't think she thought it was too friendly. She told me she didn't like being harassed by my deputies about the way she prosecutes cases."
"I didn't harass her. I just asked questions.”
"Try not to ruffle too many feathers. We're on the same team."
"Have you looked into her Forward Fund?"
"No. I attend her fundraisers, and I write a check every year. That's it."
"Maybe you should do a little more research. I know I am."
"If you think she's doing something inappropriate, get proof. Otherwise, keep your damn mouth shut."
I bit my tongue. “You got it, boss."
He hated it when I called him that.
I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. I griped to my compatriots, “Daniels says don’t rock the boat.”
JD scoffed. “That’s what we do best.”
“We’ll just keep this investigation between us,” Denise said with a smile.
She lifted her glass, and we clinked.
A table opened up nearby, and we grabbed it. A busboy came by a moment later, cleared the empty drinks, and wiped the table down. We lounged around, listening to the piano player tickle the ivories, accompanied by a jazz trumpet player.
An idea popped into my head. Maybe it was the jazz. Maybe the whiskey. But the neurons were firing. I sent a text to Paris Delaney. This kind of thing was right up her alley. She could stir up trouble, and it wouldn’t blow back on us. [What do you know about the Forward Fund?]


37
[Oh, so you want to talk to me now?] Paris texted back.
[I talk to you all the time.]
She responded with an eye-roll emoji.
[Just thought it might be something you’d be interested in.]
[No comment. That’s all you ever say now.]
[Not true. I gave you plenty of details about Deputy Atwood.]
[Whatever.]
[Do you want a scoop, or not?]
I waited for her to respond.
[I don’t know if I’d call it a scoop when you're asking me for information. Do you have anything juicy?]
I excused myself from the table, stepped outside where it