AS SOON AS the St. Johns left, the receptionist came into Jud’s office and closed the door behind her. She sat in the chair Mrs. St. Johns had been in. Her name was Coco and her skin was the color of hot chocolate mixed with whipped cream. She was twenty-six but looked even younger. Her eyes were almost Oriental, but not quite; a gift from her Chinese grandmother. Bewitching eyes that mesmerized any man, destroying willpower. Her real name was Nicole, but her sisters had called her Coco when she was little, and the name stuck. She was strikingly beautiful: five feet six inches tall with legs that caused men to walk into telephone poles and breasts that gave rise to traffic accidents. Her easily managed hair was also a gift from her grandmother, allowing her to wear a ponytail; an amazing feat for a woman of color. Jud suspected that her breasts were probably illegal in the Bible Belt states.
Jud accused her mildly, “I assume you were listening.” Their intercom allowed the receptionist to listen, should Jud need a witness.
Rather than deny her eavesdropping, she readily admitted it, “Of course. If I’m going with you, I need to know what we’re up against.”
“Why would I take you with me?”
Her voice matched the body, sultry and desirable, “I can think of a hundred reasons, but two will suffice. First, you need me to watch your back, and second, you’re in love with me.”
“I am?”
“Yes, you are. After you let that redheaded whore live with you, you became skittish, afraid to be around a good woman. And I can’t believe that we’ll be risking our necks for a tramp that jumps into bed with the first man that winks at her. If I’d been working here then, she’d never have gotten her toothbrush into your bathroom.” She was about ready to hiss. Jud had hired her when Ginger was living with him.
Jud attempted to defend himself, “I didn’t ask her to move in, she…she just sort of stayed. But she told me the truth and instead of me being dead or a vampire, she moved out.”
“I can’t understand how you can be so smart about some things and so dumb when it comes to evil women.”
“A family curse, inflicted by a wicked shaman.”
“Thank the Lord I’m here to save you. Now, where will we start?”
Jud told her, “With the yacht.”
“Wouldn’t the FBI try to find it?”
He nodded, “They did, but came up empty-handed.”
“How did they explain that?”
“They told her parents that the yacht was probably at sea and couldn’t be located.”
“Was it?”
He shrugged and said, “Maybe yes, maybe no, but I doubt it because luxury yachts have a fixed cruising range. They can’t stay at sea indefinitely. They have to refuel.”
“So, all we have to do is find out where they refueled?”
“It won’t be that easy. First, there are a thousand places to refuel. We need to know the yacht manufacture, the length, the cruising range, and where they were headed.”
“Don’t you have the name of the yacht?”
He pointed out, “That means nothing. If the name of the yacht is the Scarlet Rose, because his wife’s name is Rose, then he sells the yacht. The next man may name it Blue Horizon because his girlfriend’s eyes are blue. Yachts change names constantly.”
“Always owned by a man?”
He nodded, “Ninety-nine point nine nine percent of all yachts are owned by men.”
“To…?
“To attract beautiful women.”
“If you ever buy a yacht, you’re going to name it Coco and I’ll decide which females get onboard.”
“I’ll never be that rich, maybe a rowboat.”
“I’ll paint the name on, and you can pull the oars. When do we get started?”
“Her father will call this afternoon with the location of the Learjet. We’ll start tomorrow morning.”
“Did they have any idea where the yacht was headed?”
“They got a text message telling them that she was headed for Rio and would be back in two weeks. But that means nothing because anyone could have used her phone to send the text. That was the last contact. After that, Ginger and the yacht disappeared.”
