by Tripp Ellis
I took Buddy for a run, grabbed a quick shower, then put on a suit and tie. Jack picked me up at 7 PM, and we were at the Seven Seas by 7:15.
It was the biggest crowd yet.
The parking lot was packed. The lobby was full. News crews scurried about. Anxious fans filed into the ballroom to take their seats.
We made our way backstage to offer Denise final words of encouragement.
The atmosphere was less chaotic, but more tense. There were only 10 finalists which would be whittled down to five, with one crowned. Instead of the usual chatter backstage, there was almost dead silence. Everyone had their game faces on.
Denise looked breathtaking, as usual. She primped in front of a mirror, and a make-up artist applied last minute touch-ups. Her face looked flawless, and her red hair shimmered like fire.
"What do you think? Do you like my dress?"
The black strapless, sequined dress hugged her form and revealed her elegant collarbones.
"It's not fair," I said. "I don't think anyone else has a chance."
"Please, look around," she protested. "These girls are gorgeous." She sighed. "I'm starting to wish you two were still judges."
"You got this, with, or without, our help," I assured.
Denise took a deep breath to relax. She exhaled, centering herself. "It doesn't matter either way. I'm just happy to have gotten this far."
She smiled, saying it more for herself than anyone else.
A production assistant yelled, "We're on in five!"
"Break a leg," I said. "We'll see you when it's over."
We ran into Brooklyn Chase on the way out.
"I see you've lost the scrubs," I said.
She looked mesmerizing as usual, fully dolled up. "It's amazing what a little face paint, hairspray, and a tight dress can do. Of course, I could use a little sleep. Might help with these dark circles under my eyes. Thank God for concealer."
"I don't see any imperfections," I said.
"Let's hope the judges feel the same way." She smiled.
We wished her well, then headed out to join the audience. The show began shortly after we took our seats. Lights swirled, and music pumped. Crystal Connors took the stage to kick off the main event.
The ballroom filled with applause and cheers.
"Are you excited?" she asked the crowd.
They roared in response.
Crystal smiled. "I know I am. Tonight, we have 10 amazing ladies. How will the judges ever choose? They've got tough decisions to make. There can be only one Miss Coconut Key! Tonight, we find out who that is."
More cheers and applause filled the venue.
"But first, before we get started, let's take a moment to remember Skylar Van Doorn!"
The massive screens on stage filled with a montage of images and videos of the fallen beauty queen. A solemn hush fell over the audience as we watched the touching tribute.
It lasted less than a minute, and the audience erupted with applause, making a standing ovation.
Crystal introduced the hosts again.
Jessica and Jonah took the stage to another round of cheers.
They bantered back and forth with Crystal for a moment, then took their positions at the booth and introduced the semifinalists. One by one, the gorgeous beauties walked the stage in their glittering gowns. Bright smiles and perfect teeth shined as the girls strutted the catwalk for one final time.
Cameras covered the event from multiple angles, beaming it out to the world.
There was another swimsuit competition, followed by the final interviews.
Afterwards, the 10 contestants stood on the stage, holding hands, concealing their nerves with wide smiles. The judges made their selections, and Jessica and Jonah alternated reading the list of finalists.
A hush fell over the crowd.
The music grew tense.
"Before I reveal the five finalists, let me just say, that everyone on this stage is a winner," Jonah said.
The crowd cheered.
"In no specific order, the five finalists are... Amber Powell!" Jonah shouted with enthusiasm.
The audience howled as Amber stepped forward. She took her place on the stage, front and center, the spotlight glimmering off her gorgeous gown.
"Willow Rose!" Jessica shouted.
The wholesome girl next-door stepped forward with a bright smile, trying to hold back tears of joy.
"Taylor Lexington!" Jonah shouted.
The crowd howled again, and deafening applause filled the ballroom.
Taylor strutted to the finalist line with a beaming smile like she owned the place.
"Brooklyn Chase!" Jessica shouted.
Brooklyn had an absolute look of shock on her face. She gasped, putting her hands to her mouth. She stepped forward and smiled.
There was a drum roll as Jonah glanced to the final name on the list. "And the last finalist is…"
The moment hung in the air for a moment.
"Denise Elliott!" Jonah exclaimed.
JD and I whistled and clapped as loud as we could.
Denise looked stunned. She put on a big smile and joined the rest of the gorgeous finalists.
The audience lauded applause on the ladies for a few moments, then Jessica said, "We'll be back with the final interview round after these messages from our sponsor!"
Another advertisement for Coconut Cream Sunscreen flashed on the monitors.
The finalists took their place on the side of the stage, standing in a line, waiting to be quizzed.
In a few moments, this would all be over. And there would be four disappointed ladies.
30
Emergency lighting flickered, and a buzzing alarm pulsed through overhead speakers. A look of confusion washed over the judges and the contestants. The crowd glanced around nervously, and murmurs of concern echoed throughout the ballroom.
Crystal Connors scurried onto the stage with a worried look on her face. "It's probably just a false alarm, but please move to the exits in an orderly fashion. There is no need for alarm. Remain calm and proceed to the parking lot. Thank you!"
The murmur of confusion turned into a subtle roar.
Audience members stood up and began filing out of the ballroom.
My face twisted with confusion, and I exchanged a glance with JD. There were uniformed deputies at the exits, ushering people out of the venue and guiding them toward the parking lot.
"What the hell is going on?" JD asked.
A text message from Sheriff Daniels buzzed my phone. [Someone called in a bomb threat at the pageant.]
I showed the display to Jack. His brow lifted with surprise.
Crystal Connors ushered the contestants off stage as the house lights came on.
By and large, most people tend to dismiss fire alarms as a drill, or a prank. Beginning in grade school, we experience these events on a regular basis. People grow numb over time. It was probably the best way to evacuate a full ballroom without causing a stampede. Yelling bomb in a crowded building is likely to cause chaos.
We made our way to the exit and filed out with the rest of the audience. For the most part, things flowed in an orderly fashion. There were some panicked faces and lots of questions. We crossed the lobby and stepped into the parking lot and moved away from the building.
Lights flickered from several patrol cars, painting the hotel red and blue. Hotel guests mixed with pageant attendees as they spilled into the lot.
When people didn't see any flames, most dismissed it as a prank. Some kid pulling the lever on the fire alarm. But local television stations were already reporting the incident as a bomb threat. People were glued to their cell phones, searching online.
Word traveled among the crowd quickly.
People backed even farther away from the building. The voices of concern amidst the crowd grew louder. Still, morbid curiosity prevailed. Nobody left the parking lot. If there was a bomb planted somewhere in the Seven Seas, there were a lot of people that wanted to see it go off—at least, the
y didn't want to miss it if it happened.
Denise texted: [Where are you?]
[In the parking lot.]
[Have you heard?]
[Yes.]
Denise exited the main doors with Brooklyn, and we rushed to greet them. We found Sheriff Daniels by a patrol car. Several fire trucks and ambulances had arrived. Deputies urged the crowd to keep their distance.
The bomb squad arrived a moment later.
"We got an anonymous phone call that a bomb was placed somewhere in the building and would detonate before the winner was announced," Daniels said.
"That's terrible!" Denise said. "Do you think the threat is credible?"
Daniels shrugged.
"The EOD Unit Sergeant approached. "Do you have any idea where the device is?"
Daniels shook his head.
Sergeant Hartman grimaced.
His brown hair was buzzed high and tight. He had a mustache, and a stocky build. He surveyed the luxury hotel, contemplating the situation. "What time is this thing supposed to detonate?"
Sheriff Daniels told him.
"That means the device is, most likely, on a remote detonator," Hartman said.
The patter of rotor blades overhead filled the night air as multiple choppers circled, spotlighting the ground.
Hartman looked torn. He continued to stare at the building with a grimace twisting on his face. "My wife gets mad when I don't suit up."
"Suit up," Daniels commanded. "I'm not losing an officer over this shit."
Hartman agreed and ambled back to the EOD van. He put on a blast suit weighing over 75 pounds. The padded material was made of Kevlar, Nomex, and a combination of other plastics and impact resistant material. It was designed to mitigate the effects of an explosion and protect the wearer from blistering shrapnel. But even with a suit, rendering an explosive device safe was a risky proposition.
The suit was hot and heavy. You needed nerves of steel and a steady hand. Even with anti-fog protection built into the suits, the visors would often fog, bringing visibility down. With your heartbeat pounding in your ears, sweating under the oppressive, claustrophobic weight of the suit—with every second critical—this was a job that would make you grow old before your time.
The EOD Unit required a five year commitment. For most people, that was enough. They were on call 24 hours a day, seven days a week. It was tough on families.
Hartman looked like an alien from outer space in the green suit. He waddled toward the hotel with the bravest officer in the bomb squad—a fearless German Shepherd named Hans. The highly trained technician would be able to sniff out explosive materials.
We waited in the parking lot as choppers continued to circle, crossing our fingers that both Hans and Sergeant Hartman returned safely.
31
There was no boom. No earthshaking rumble. No visible explosion.
Sergeant Hartman and Hans emerged from the building unharmed. Hartman had removed his helmet and gloves and waddled across the parking lot to join us. He shook his head. "There's nothing there."
"Are you sure?" Daniels asked.
"We checked everything twice. Hans didn't indicate. I couldn't find anything. I think it's a hoax. Some kid is probably laughing his ass off right now."
"Some kid is going to find himself slapped with a felony," Daniels said. "If we can find out who did this."
"Good luck with that," Hartman said. "My work here is done."
He loaded up with the rest of the EOD Unit, and the van left the premises.
Crystal Connors approached. "So, is it safe to re-enter the building?"
"Yes, ma'am," Daniels replied.
Her face crinkled. "I don't know how comfortable I am with that."
"It's your decision," Daniels said.
The sheriff grabbed a bullhorn from his squad car.
"I'd like to address the crowd when you're finished making your announcement," Crystal said.
Daniels nodded.
He lifted the bullhorn to his mouth, and it squealed with feedback as he turned it on. "The building has been deemed safe. You can return to your previous activities. Thank you for your cooperation and patience. Miss Connors would like to say a few words."
Daniels handed the bullhorn to her.
Crystal cleared her throat. "In light of the current situation, I think it would be best if we postponed the pageant. I see no need to put our contestants, staff, or guests at any risk. We’ll announce the winner tomorrow night before the wrap party. Your tickets will be honored. Just hold on to your stubs.” She forced a smile. “You'll just have to wait a little while longer to learn who will be our next Miss Coconut Key."
There were a few claps, and a few disappointed groans. The crowd of people slowly dispersed and climbed into their cars. A sea of red taillights lit up, and a minor traffic jam formed as the throngs of people tried to exit the parking lot.
Hotel guests hesitantly returned to the Seven Seas. I would imagine there would be a lot of guests asking for a refund, wanting to relocate to another hotel.
"This is a disaster," Crystal said. "But maybe it will be good for ratings?"
"I'm not particularly inclined to step back into that building," Brooklyn said. "Is anybody else up for a drink?"
Jack raised his hand. "Don't need to ask me twice."
"How about we meet at Keys?" Brooklyn suggested.
"Sounds good to me," Denise replied.
“I’d join, but I need to manage this catastrophe.” Crystal braved the danger and returned to the hotel to wrap things up at the venue.
We waited for the traffic to dissipate, then I left with JD and we zipped over to Oyster Avenue. We parked the Porsche at the curb and walked a block to Keys. It was an upscale piano bar, and the girls fit in perfectly wearing their lustrous evening gowns.
A gifted pianist tickled a baby grand piano, and the subtle murmur of conversation filled the bar. We grabbed a table and ordered a round.
Brooklyn looked frazzled. Her glass trembled slightly as she lifted it. "To not getting blown up!"
We all agreed and clinked glasses, then sipped the fine whiskey.
"I'm used to trauma," Brooklyn said. "I see horrible things all the time. As a physician, you grow numb to it. But I'm not in situations often where my life is threatened. That is an entirely different type of pressure. I'm not sure how you all deal with that on a regular basis."
I shrugged. "You learn to channel your adrenaline. And as you mentioned, you get numb to it. People can get numb to a surprising amount of things."
"Do you really think that was just a prank?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said. "If there was a bomb on the premises, Hans would have found it. The EOD Unit is good at what they do."
"What do you think will happen with the pageant?" Brooklyn asked.
"I'm not sure what Crystal will do," JD replied. "Maybe all the finalists will become honorary titleholders?"
"I could live with that," Denise said.
"Me too, sister," Brooklyn said.
The two girls clinked drinks and sipped their whiskey, leaving lipstick stains on the rims of their glasses.
We stayed at Keys for a few drinks, then wound things down early. Both Brooklyn and Denise had early shifts in the morning. We said our goodbyes, and Jack drove me back to Diver Down.
My phone buzzed with a text message along the way. It was from Scarlett:
[Houston, we have a problem.]
32
[What's going on?] I texted back to Scarlett.
We raced across the island with the top down, the wind blowing through the cabin. The music pumped, and JD enjoyed the night air.
I angled the phone away from his view as I waited for a response.
"Getting a booty call?" JD asked.
"Nope," I said.
"I'm telling you, I don't know how you’re gonna work this out with Brooklyn now that she is friends with Denise."
"I don't either."
"That's a crying shame. Unles
s, they're down for a little threesome?"
"I doubt that."
"You never know," JD smiled.
Scarlet texted back. [The photos got out!]
[What? The topless ones?]
[Yup!]
[How?]
[I'm pretty sure I know how. That scumbag director. He probably leaked them to get back at me for not sleeping with him.]
[I'm guessing you haven't told Jack about the whole situation?]
[Nope. Are you with him?]
[Yes.]
[Don't say a word!]
[He's going to find out.]
[Ugh, this sucks!]
"Who is that?" JD asked.
"Brooklyn," I muttered. "She's just telling me how much she enjoyed the evening with us."
"You should invite her over," JD said. "She’s clearly fishing."
"I just might."
We pulled into the parking lot at Diver Down. I climbed out of the Porsche and told Jack I'd see him in the morning. We planned on heading up to Raiford to speak with Darrell Casey.
I didn't want to get in the middle of Scarlett's drama. Jack would figure it out soon enough.
JD dropped the speedster into gear, and the flat six howled as he peeled out of the parking lot.
I made my way down the dock toward the Vivere and sent Scarlett another text. [You have to tell Jack. I can't keep covering for you. I feel like an ass.]
[I know. I'm sorry I put you in that position. Do you think now is a good time to tell him?]
[As good as any.]
[Wish me luck.]
[Break a leg.]
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, crossed the gangway and stepped to the aft deck. Something told me I'd be getting a phone call from Jack momentarily, and I prepared myself for the impending drama.
Buddy greeted me excitedly, and Fluffy remained indifferent as usual. The aristocratic white cat pranced around with her tail in the air.
I made a quick sandwich in the galley, then took Buddy out for a bit.
By the time I returned to the boat my phone buzzed with another text. I ignored it for a moment. I knew it couldn't be good.
I pushed into the salon and moved below deck. Curiosity got the best of me when I reached my stateroom. I dug out my phone and looked at the screen. To my surprise, the message wasn't from Jack or Scarlett.