Page 13 of A Real Good Bad Thing

“There you go. Look on the bright side! And Kalila always said good things about him. She liked working with him too.”

Wait. Hold on. “Kalila worked for him?” I asked in surprise. I couldn’t picture pink-haired, tattooed Kalila working for a finance guy.

“Assistant-type stuff when he was setting up the club,” Devon said. “But she’s got some kind of flower shop now. You should check it out!”

Kalila had just moved near the top of the list of people to see.

I thanked Devon, and as I walked away from the snorkel shop by the beach, I called the man of the hour.

“Sweetheart! I’m so glad you’ve called. It’s been ages.” Eli’s carefree voice boomed over the sound of music. The music faded, and the background noise died. He must have moved someplace quieter.

“Hey there, Eli,” I said. “I’m in town. Want to have brunch tomorrow?”

“Name the time and place,” he said.

I did, then I made a pit stop at my cheap little hotel room, tossed on a sundress, and walked to the nightclub since it was nearby.

Well, it was a good idea to get the lay of the land. Even though I had no plans to go in.

7

CONNECT THE DOTS

Jake

Drum-heavy techno music reverberated in my bones as I weaved through the throng on the dance floor.

Sapphire lived up to its name.

The sleek, silvery nightclub shimmered. Mirrored walls behind the bar were edged with neon blue. Jewel-toned lights flashed from the ceiling, moving and swaying in colored spotlights. Women in barely-there black dresses that skimmed the top of their thighs on one end and plumped up their chests on the other sidled up beside girlfriends or next to men. The crowd was mostly young, but sprinkled with tourists of many ages—the mom and dad on a getaway from the kids, groups of forty-something friends reliving their younger days with a hot night on the town, and lots of single men, from frat boys to sugar-daddies.

I leaned against the bar, soaking it in, taking note of Eli’s new world. Everything sparkled. The lights, the bar, and the disco ball. My eyes roamed the dance floor, then I raised my gaze to the second level and spotted him.

The face matched the images I’d scoped out online. Like a middle-aged Robert Redford, he rested his hands on the railing and surveyed the scene, as if he were a prince presiding over his subjects.

What a sneaky fucker—stealing from his company then skipping out with a fortune in art. Maybe even turning that art back into dough here.

If Eli had poured the pilfered dollars into this club, he had picked wisely. But was this club the endgame or another scheme?

Judging from the liquor flowing, the cover charge, and the lack of elbow room, Eli was making money hand over fist. He looked the part, dressed in a crisp button-down and tailored pants. A woman with jet-black hair and a wine-red dress joined him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Eli glanced briefly at her, clasped her hand, then ran a finger across the hollow of her throat.

Something about her throat interested Eli. Which meant it interested me.

Setting my glass of ice water on the bar, I worked my way to the coiled metal staircase at the edge of the dance floor, keeping Eli and the woman in sight. I climbed the steps as quickly as possible with the crowd pushing in both directions. I reached the second level as the woman planted a kiss on Eli’s cheek.

Eli cupped her face in his hand and returned the smooch, his fingers drifting to her necklace, and a diamond bright enough to blind me from a distance. He was stroking it, caressing it, fondling the stone—the man was fixated on the rock more than the woman. I managed to sneak a few feet closer to snag a better look at the square-cut jewel with a bluish tint.

Like a sapphire.

Eli was dating an art dealer, all right, but the man sure seemed fonder of jewels. And therewas big diamond business here on the Key.

I pivoted and turned to leave before I arose any suspicion. On the way, I played connect-the-dots in my head. Money, art, diamonds, club. I didn’t have enough information yet to draw a conclusion, but I didn’t want to leave any stones unturned. I glanced up at the balcony once more—in time to see Eli reach into his pocket and take out his phone to accept a call. His face lit up. Whoever had called him had made the man’s day. Eli spun around and opened a door, extracting himself from the crowds.

Maybe it wasn’t quite time to go. I surveyed the room for a few more minutes just in case the money man returned. No such luck, so I resumed my way out, and reached the exit, where a burly security guard manned the door. His arms were crossed, revealing ink on his forearm—an Army Ranger tattoo.

“How’s it going? Army here too,” I said.

The big man raised his gaze, and the expression in his eyes shifted from standoffish to engaged. “Yeah?”

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