Swan Dive by Kendel Lynn

sea.
    Empty.
    Dot those i’s.
    Mums the word.
    “Something good?”
    “Possibly. But I need your help.” I tucked my phone away. “You sure you don’t mind missing the show?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Then let’s go.”
    We snuck out the front doors of the theatre. I’d rather trudge around the outside of the entire building to get to my car than face those backstage moms again. Besides, we didn’t have that kind of time.

FIVE
      
    (Day #2 – Late Friday Night)

      
    Most of the residential areas on Sea Pine were divided into gated subdivisions guarded by a range of security personnel from intimidating former lawmen who wore guns on their belts to retired folks who’d be just as happy working at Jellystone with Yogi and Boo-Boo.
    Though Sugar Hill was a gated residential community, it also housed two hotels, two golf courses, miles of bike paths and beaches, and a handful of restaurants—all with public access. Gaining admittance required nothing more than a smile and a retail destination. Or a resident to call in a pass, which Deidre did for me. It expired in five days and I hoped I wouldn’t need it that long.
    Once through the gates, I wound down the paved road toward the beach where the hotels fronted the ocean and the low-rise condos had their backs. Palm trees, magnolias, crape myrtles, and oaks were so plentiful, it resembled a mountain-top hideaway, one with high sand dunes and an ocean view.
    Deidre Burch’s vacation condo was in a cluster development across the short road from a narrow beach path. I’d been there twice before and easily found the weathered wood building. One might think it odd that a resident of Sea Pine Island would own a vacation condo on the same island. But quite a few residents purchased properties for investment rentals. They also came in handy when out-of-towners visited. And when you live on an island, out-of-towners always visit.
    “You’re sure Deidre left a key in order for you to purposely snoop around her condo tonight?”
    “Absolutely. She knew I wanted to look around, and right now everyone is at the performance. I think she likes the clandestine aspect. She texted in code.”
    “Oy,” Sid said.
    We climbed the steps to the second floor landing. A hand-painted plaque hung on the door to number fifty-three: The Burch’s Sugar Shack. Sid went for the welcome mat, but I went for the sign.
    “The mat has palm trees, but the sign has the surf,” I said. A brass house key was taped to the back. I peeled it off and opened the door. “As in, key under the sea .”
    “I’ll be the lookout,” Sid said. “I’m not up for a B and E arrest tonight.”
    “The dancers will be at the theatre for hours, Sid. And no one is around.”
    The sky was a dusky dark blue, nearly pitch. The complex was quiet for a Friday evening. Most folks already out for the night. Though with a population dominated by the already- and the nearly-retired, the restaurants filled by six and emptied by nine. It may have been quiet at the moment, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long.
    “You’ll be safer inside,” I said. “Plus, you can help me.”
    “I’m serious. Orange may be the new black, but I prefer red,” she said and curtsied.
    “Fine. If someone comes, what’s your cover?”
    “I’m looking for my missing cat.”
    “In a ball gown?”
    “It’s not a ball gown, Valentino. It’s an evening dress. I came home early from a night at the theatre and noticed my cat was missing. Obviously, I wouldn’t take the time to change. I’d rush out and search.”
    “Obviously,” I said. “I’m going in.”
    “I’ll ring the doorbell if someone comes home.”
    “Uh-huh.” I eased inside and clicked the door shut behind me. “Hello?” I called, just in case. Luckily, no one replied.
    It was quiet and dimly lit. A single lamp illuminated the living room slash kitchen combo area: the kitchen and nook opened into the living room creating one combined space. It was generic. A