I drove straight to the Longboat Key Police Department's new headquarters building on Gulf of Mexico Drive. My buddy, Bill Lester, was Chief of Police. I wanted to file a missing persons report.
"Not possible," Lester said. I was sitting across the desk from him, sipping the coffee his secretary had brought me.
"Why not?" I asked.
"By definition, she can't be a runaway. She's legally an adult. The fact that she doesn't call home while she's on spring break just isn't enough to indicate foul play."
"Bill, this girl is in some sort of trouble or she wouldn't be out of touch with her parents."
"I don't doubt you, but we have to follow protocol. I need more than the fact that she stopped calling her daddy. Is there any evidence of foul play?"
"No."
"Then I can't do anything."
I knew he'd help if he could. I thanked him and changed the subject.
I said, "Do you know anything more about the body I found at Pelican Man's yesterday?"
"No, but let me check with Sarasota PD."
The morning paper didn't have much information. Just a big story on the front page about the body being found. No identification or cause of death.
Bill reached for his phone, and after a short conversation hung up and turned his attention back to me. "They don't know much," he said. "The autopsy is scheduled for today, but they think he was shot once behind his right ear. It looks like an execution. His prints don't match anybody on file."
"I thought you could just about find anybody today if you had fingerprints."
"You can. If they're in the system. But if the person never served in the military or got licensed in some occupation that required prints or was never arrested, he wouldn't be on file. There're a lot of reasons why some people might never have their fingerprints taken."
"Let me know if you hear anything," I said, and left.
At my condo, I scanned Peggy's picture into my computer, cropped it so that I had a good head shot, and ran off several 4 x 6 prints. I'd start at the northern end of Anna Maria Island and work my way south to the southern end of Siesta Key.
Bartenders have good memories for attractive young women, so I'd start there. If that didn't turn up anything, I'd try hotels and then the condos that rented by the week. Maybe I'd get lucky.
I called my friend Logan Hamilton. "Want to do a little barliopping tonight?" I asked.
"Absolutely," said Logan.
He'd recently retired from his executive position with a financial services company, telling anyone who asked why he'd quit early, that he had all the money he needed, and Matt Royal needed a playmate. I explained why we were going.
We started at the north end of Anna Maria, an island connected to Longboat Key by a drawbridge spanning Longboat Pass. Our first stop was The Sandbar, a restaurant and bar hugging the beach near Bean Point. One drink and no luck later, we headed south, stopping at each bar, having one drink, and striking out.
We left the last bar on the south end of Anna Maria, planning to head home and to bed. Logan suggested that we stop at Pattigeorge's on Longboat for a nightcap. We drove across the bridge heading south to mid-key, where the restaurant overlooked Sarasota Bay.
The dinner crowd had cleared out, and we were alone at the bar with Sammy, the bartender.
"What're you guys doing out so late?" Sammy said, as we sat down.
Logan grinned. "Looking for a needle in a haystack."
Sammy put Logan's Scotch in front of him and reached into the cooler for my Miller Lite. "You trying to get laid again?"
Logan laughed. "Go to hell, Sam. We're trying to find a missing girl. Matt's ex-wife's stepdaughter."
Sam set my beer on a coaster. "What's that all about?"
I told him about my conversation with Laura. "Peggy was probably on one of the islands in this area, but we didn't have any luck on Anna Maria."
"Got a picture?" Sam asked.
I showed it to him. "Good looking girl," he said, handing it back. "I'd like to meet her."
"Sam," I said, "she's young enough to be your daughter:'
Sam grinned. "Everybody I date is young enough to be my daughter. Let me see that picture again."
He took the photo to the back of the bar and held it under the light that hung above the mirror. "You know," he said, "I think I did see her in here one night. She was with a group of people who sat at the high-top right behind you."
"When?" I asked.
"A couple of weeks ago, maybe. There were five people, I think. One was an older guy, and there were two girls and two young men together. I assumed they were couples out with somebody's dad."
"What else do you remember?" Logan asked.
"Not much," Sam said. "They seemed to be having a good time. The girls didn't have IDs and were drinking cranberry juice. The guys were old enough and were drinking mixed drinks. I don't remember what."
"Stretch your brain," I said. "I need anything you can remember."
"I'm not sure why, but for some reason I got the impression they were staying across the street at the Sea Club. You ought to talk to Chris, the manager. She'll know if they were there."