Nick and I texted Detective Kass and everyone else involved in putting the pieces of this mystery together. We urged Harry to redouble his efforts to identify Liliana’s secret email account and the source of the auction flyer. We told Buck to keep up the pressure to give his agent, Nick, priority in the special auction bidding. And to let us know immediately about the location of the auction. We left urgent messages for Detective Kass to get in touch with us as soon as possible.
Finally we sat down to cobble together our game plan. We agreed that another trip to the Bay Wind Yacht Club was imperative. The week before, Cruising Captain Errol Parkington had claimed to have no knowledge of a Bay Wind member cruising to the Azores during the timeframe in question. Yet we now knew the superyacht, Seashell had been to the Azores, and that at least one of its owners, Dr. Oliver Prine, was a member of the Bay Wind Yacht Club.
I was still intensely curious about Kiri D’Costa’s role in all this. We decided that Nick should contact Buck’s hull diver, Gus Barba, under the guise of having a couple of beers and discussing Gus’s working arrangement with Buck. While he was at it, Nick could pry into Gus’s relationship with Kiri.
Hoping to find more forensic evidence, I suggested going back to the dock where the man had fallen and suffered the bloody head wound. We could at least check around to see if a bullet had lodged nearby, maybe in one of the boats or in a piling. The weekend before, I’d been too focused on the blood to consider that possibility. Nick thought it was a long shot, but I wanted to give it a try.
Feeling organized enough to get started, we each donned BWYC jackets Nick had borrowed from Buck and Delta Sawyer. Dinner at the yacht club was as good a place as any to keep an ear to the ground for references to the mysterious Seashell, or better yet, a slip of the tongue about the special private auction set for Sunday night.
We arrived at the yacht club early, our Members Only jackets easily concealing our weapons. The dining room was sparsely occupied. We made our way to a table near the wall of windows overlooking the bay. Awkward and uncomfortable with my gun and holster clipped to the inside of my waistband, I tried to imitate the assertive walk of women cops on TV shows. Would I really pull my weapon and fire it before the weekend was over? I would, if it meant saving Liliana.
I stayed at our table while Nick walked to the bar to order drinks. I watched him speak to the bartender, at the same time sliding several bills across the bar. The man maintained a poker face and scooped up the cash as he replied. With a nod, Nick picked up our drinks and made his way back to our table.
“Did I just see a transaction?” I asked. “You bought more than drinks?”
“Hope so.” Nick sipped at the foam on his beer. “We’ll see soon enough. Depends which side of the fence that bartender sits on.”
“What did you ask him?”
“I said I’d like to buy a drink for the cruising captain if he happened to drop in.”
“Parkington? Why?”
“Because he’s either lying about no Bay Wind members cruising to the Azores, or he’s a figurehead who holds his title in name only and hasn’t a clue what’s going on around him.” Nick picked up a menu from the table. “What are you having?”
“Heartburn.”
Nick smiled. “Might as well try to enjoy dinner. This evening may be a complete bust otherwise.”
“Then I’ll have the halibut.” I set the menu aside and took out my phone to check for messages. Nick did the same. I spotted one from Cleo, sent half an hour ago: Ferrera condition grave.
Fighting tears, I held the phone out for Nick to see. “We’re going to lose both of them, aren’t we?”
When our dinners came, I made myself eat, hoping gourmet fare would lift my spirits. We had finished all but our desserts and coffee when Nick glanced toward the bar. I saw the bartender nod at him, then jerk his head toward the other side of the dining room where Parkington sat, the same arm candy from the week before draped over him.
“Looks like that fifty paid off,” Nick said. He nodded toward Parkington, who held up his glass in a thank you gesture.
“Are you sure that was a good idea?” I murmured.
“Nope, but we’re about to find out.”
The unnatural contour of the holster clipped to the inside of my waistband was a constant, uneasy reminder that I was carrying. I gave up on finishing my flan and instead sipped at my coffee, while Nick wolfed down his triple chocolate ice cream cake.
Out of the corner of my eye, I observed Parkington and his flashy, red-haired companion. Girlfriend? Wife? Daughter? My money was on the first. No wife or daughter would rate the amount of bling that woman was wearing. Each time I stole a look, she was fingering a necklace, twisting a bracelet, or tossing down another slug of wine. There was no chatting going on between the couple. Parkington was deep in conversation with a man seated at a nearby table. His date looked bored out of her mind.
Nick pulled my attention back to our own table. “Are you going to finish your flan?”
“No.” I edged the dessert toward him. “Go ahead.”
“Thanks, but that’s not why I asked. It’s time to fish or cut bait.”
“You have a plan?”
“We’ll pass his table on our way out. Couldn’t hurt to say hello. See what happens.”
“You’re not going to question him about the superyacht or the auction, are you?” That seemed like a bad idea.
“Not directly. I’ll drop a throwaway word or two. See how he reacts.”
“What’s my role?”
“You’re exotic, sexy, and beautiful—that’s a start.” He smiled. “I know it’s a stretch, but you might try to look almost as dumb as his date.”
“I’ll try, but I don’t have the showy bling. I’m pretty sure a woman’s IQ decreases proportionately as the load of jewelry she wears increases.”
“Then I won’t be buying you any pricey trinkets. I like you smart.” Nick put a couple of bills on the table. “Let’s get this done.”
It isn’t so easy to act clueless when you’re carrying a concealed weapon, but I gave it my best shot. Well, my best effort, anyway. I tagged along behind Nick, whose usually supple, masculine walk had morphed into a chauvinistic swagger. As we neared their table, Parkington’s date spotted Nick and sat up straighter. She pushed out her chest, nearly causing her nipples to escape from her clingy, strapless top. Nick had that effect on women. Some women. Most women.
Parkington picked up on his date’s shift in attention. He glanced at her, saw her watching our approach, and plastered on a smile, barely visible under his flamboyant white moustache.
“Evening, folks. Thanks for the drinks.” He was obviously trying to work out why he should recognize us, and why Nick would buy him a round.
“Least I can do,” Nick said. “I’m hoping to pick your brain about cruising. I suspect you’re the man to talk to.”
“Anytime, for a fellow mariner.”
As Parkington spoke to Nick, he looked me up and down in a speculative, salacious way. Imagining his lewd thoughts brought to mind a slug creeping along, leaving a trail of slime.
“Good to know,” Nick said. “I have business to take care of this weekend, but I’d like to set something up for Sunday night, if that works for you.”
Parkington seemed to hesitate. “Sorry, that’s out, but any other time.” He handed Nick his card. “My info’s on there.”
Nick took the card. “Great. I’ll check my schedule. Appreciate it.”
“Glad to help.” Parkington raised his glass. “Thanks again for the drinks.”
Nick parked his hand on my butt and said loudly, for Parkington’s benefit, “Let’s go, babe. I have plans for you.” While we walked away from the table, I tried to act silly and giggly, resisting the urge to smack Nick upside the head.
Outside, I asked him what he thought about the encounter. “He said he wasn’t available Sunday night. You suspect that he’s going to attend the special auction?”
“I’d bet on it.” Nick said. “We have two strikes against him now. He lied last weekend about there being no recent cruises to the Azores, and now he’s booked for Sunday night.”
“Wasn’t that a risk? If you show up at that auction and he sees you, isn’t he going to wonder why you’re there?”
“Not necessarily. He’ll assume I didn’t want to tip my hand today any more than he did.” Nick put an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t worry, I won’t show up at that auction unless I have enough backup to put everyone there out of business. All Parkington and the rest will be wondering about is how long they’ll be in prison.”
“You’re counting on a lot happening between now and Sunday night,” I said. “You don’t even know the location yet, do you?”
“No. Buck’s contact is withholding that until I’ve been vetted and approved. They have until an hour before it starts to confirm that I’m in. The emphasis on secrecy makes it sound even more felonious.”
“They could be dealing in all kinds of illicit goods, up to and including human trafficking.” My stomach knotted and my chest tightened. “Yet we still have nothing to convince Kass or the police down here to raid that auction.”
“Seems that way. What we have so far would sound worse than circumstantial. More like farfetched.” Nick opened the car door for me. “Not to mention we don’t know which law enforcement agency would be involved. The Bay Area includes a lot of different jurisdictions. Kass needs more, and we need to get busy.”
“Then let’s see if we can find something more concrete for him,” I said. “It’s still light out. Only seven o’clock.”
“What do you have in mind?” Nick pulled onto the street.
“I’d like to go back to the dock where that man fell. Look around for a spent bullet.”
Nick cocked an eyebrow. “Last weekend you weren’t even sure his wound was caused by a gunshot. You still think it’s worth the effort?”
“Why not? We’re here. We have nothing better to do for the next hour or two.”
Nick glanced at me. “I can think of something.”
“Stop it. You’re reminding me of that creep, Parkington.”
“I’ll bet I could grow a mustache, too. A big one just like his.”
“Don’t you dare.” I swatted his arm.
Nick laughed out loud. “Okay … babe.”
“Knock it off, Nick. Let’s go look for a bullet.”
“Not to throw a wet blanket on your idea, but even if we found a bullet proving he was shot, there’s no guarantee the shooting has anything to do with Liliana’s kidnappers.”
“That man was arguing with someone on Carver’s yacht just before he ran away and fell on the dock with a bloody head wound. That’s enough to make me curious.” I pointed to the marina entrance. “Here we are. There’s no one around. Any ideas how to get through the security gate?”
“I’ve acquired a handy utensil that should do the job.”
I raised my eyebrows.
He grinned. “Don’t ask.”