Chapter 16: The Video

The police car was parked across the front of the office with its lights off.

Every guest at the Lantern was out on the walk in pajamas and flip-flops, pretending to look at the moon.

The bait shop man was sitting on his fence in his white boots.

Dale stood in the office doorway with his arms folded over his chest.

Two officers waited inside, a heavyset older man and a young woman with a notebook.

They both looked tired of being there.

"Tallulah Bledsoe?" the older one said.

"That's me."

He looked at my black dress, then at Dorrie in her white chiffon, barefoot, carrying her heels.

Then at Wells behind us in his suit.

"Rough party?" he said.

"It was an engagement," Dorrie said. "It didn't take."

The young officer read from her notebook.

A complaint from Augusta Ballantyne of Monterey Square, filed that afternoon.

One strand of pearls, a family heirloom, appraised at eighty-five thousand dollars.

Last seen on the complainant's daughter on the night of April fourteenth, 2018.

Never recovered.

"That's eight years ago," Dale said from the door. "Why's she reporting it tonight?"

"Sir, I just write it down."

"I know exactly where those pearls went," I said. "Into my birthday cake."

The older officer sighed.

"Mrs. Ballantyne's statement says you kept them."

"Mrs. Ballantyne's statement says a lot of things."

"Ma'am, I need something better than that, or I need you to come downtown and give a statement."

The guests on the walk had gone completely silent.

One of the honeymooners from room three had her phone up.

I looked at it, and something turned over in my memory.

A phone held up in a front row, at every party I'd ever been thrown out of.

"Dorrie," I said. "The woman who films everything. Pink hair, sits in front. Was she there tonight?"

Dorrie was already digging in her evening bag.

"Table six," she said. "I did the seating chart. I have her number. I have everybody's number."

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