"What the fuck, NB?" I jerked on his leash, but he hopped on his remaining legs and continued to pee. It splashed against Frasier's wall and then puddled on the carpet. NB's biggest B&E and he'd ruined it by leaving DNA evidence. Thankfully, I didn't think they had a DNA bank for dog pee.

What was I going to do?

The trickle slowed to a stop as I stared at the ceiling and processed how I'd explain this to the jury at my hearing. I did not look good in orange and couldn't risk a conviction. Plus, think of all the I-told-you-so comments from Broadrick.

Ugh.

Dogs.

"That was a terrible thing," I said to NB while wagging my finger. He looked at me with his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth. Totally not repentant at all. "I'll make them put you in doggie jail with me."

Nothing.

How was I going to clean up the mess? Most of Frasier's house appeared to be in the boxes stacked in the dining room. It's not like I could dig through them to find the bathroom towels. Damn it. We'd just have to hurry and hope the pee puddle dried before Frasier came home from his meeting. Thankfully, NB didn't have a large bladder, and he'd stopped at the mailbox on the way in.

"We are going to have a serious discussion about this when we get home," I said to him as I walked us down the hallway.

I pushed open the bedroom door with my elbow.

Nothing besides two boxes and an empty bed frame. Man, I'd missed all the good stuff.

The other bedroom was the same except the king-sized bed still had sheets covering it. I slipped into the room with NB trailing behind me. The top dresser drawer was open, making it easy to see the nothing it contained.

I used the bottom of my shirt to open the rest of the drawers.

Nothing.

When Frasier said he was leaving town soon, he meant it. It had to be happening sooner than I realized. I had to work harder to put this case behind me before all my best suspects fled the state.

NB sniffed at the dresser, digging at the carpet beside the leg. What? I bent down to search the area. It's possible NB found a clue and wanted to redeem himself from the pee incident of three minutes ago.

I dropped to my knees to search under the dresser, but came back empty-handed. Nothing was under it or hidden behind any of the legs. Mr. Jasper jostled around with me and buried his head in the carrier.

"I should have gotten a German Shepard. They're police dogs, NB." He stared up at me with his puppy eyes and then lifted his leg beside the dresser. "Don't even think about it."

I used my best angry mom voice, and he lowered his leg, keeping his gaze on the floor. Obviously, I'd been a horrible person in a past life to deserve this.

Freaking A. I needed to get the hell out of Frasier's home before NB made it his personal pee pad.

I carried him to the kitchen, so he didn't get any more ideas about marking Frasier's home as his personal territory. He sniffed Mr. Jasper, and the bunny nibbled his nose until NB yipped. Served him right.

"You're lucky I can't tell your father about your unacceptable behavior," I scolded him as we made it to the kitchen.

Broadrick would be way more upset about the B&E part of the adventure. He'd probably spend the entire time yelling at me rather than NB. Sometimes his priorities were way out of whack like that.

We passed the kitchen table with the papers scattered over the top, and I couldn't resist slowing to have a peek. The top few were basic utility bills. Who still got paper copies of those? There were edges of paper under them I couldn't make out. I secured NB in my arm and used the elbow of the other to push the pages out of the way.

The letterhead on the bottom piece was from the Clearwater Insurance Agency. Frasier had the most boring mail I'd ever riffled.

Wait.

I turned back from getting ready to leave again as my gaze caught on a familiar name.

Mick Darcy.

The insurance bill had Frasier's name on it, but the person being insured was Mick. That didn't make sense. Did it?

I moved the paper another inch with my elbow to make sure I uncovered the entire top portion and then the details. NB's head jerked when I slow whistled.

Wow. Mick had an insurance policy for two million dollars, payable to Frasier as the only beneficiary.

NB whined as I moved him to grab my phone. "It wouldn't have to be this way if you followed B&E etiquette."

I positioned my phone in front of Mr. Jasper's head and snapped two pictures of the insurance policy, getting the policy number right in the center of the second photo. This just became my next big lead.

A door slammed somewhere outside the house, and I froze. Sadly, NB and Mr. Jasper didn't have the same flight instinct. The bunny continued to wiggle his nose, looking for something to eat, and NB jostled around in a half-assed attempt to free himself from my grip. Neither was getting their way.

"You two are the worst backup partners ever. We're getting out of here," I whispered.

My luck, if I waited any longer Mr. Jasper would poop and then I'd be picking up little bunny pellets from Frasier's floor. Heart racing, I snuck out the back door, checking both ways. None of the neighbors were in the backyard looking for robbers.

Whew.

I closed the door softly and ran the length of the house until they'd see me from the road. Once we had to act natural, I placed NB on the ground and let him relieve himself on a bush at the edge of Frasier's yard. We stepped onto the sidewalk with a smile, once again pretending it was normal to take your bunny for walks in a baby carrier. Hopefully Frasier didn't have a neighborhood watch because I'd definitely hit some flags.

We made it a full block from Frasier's house before I relaxed enough to let my shoulders drop. Shit. Two million dollars was a lot of money.

Mick was probably worth more dead than alive.

But why?

Frasier's house had given me a great clue, but also a hundred more questions. I let NB into the car and then slid into the driver's seat and got out of the neighborhood as fast as possible without drawing attention to myself.

The clouds were covering up the sun as I turned from his street, but it would be dark soon, anyway.

"What do you guys think?" I asked Mr. Jasper and NB, but neither answered.

If Frasier killed Mick, I still hadn't figured out why. The money? The incessant pen clicking? His hats? And why do it in my office? If Frasier tried to set me up for the crime, why did he go out of his way to point blame at Eric? Why not just let me take the fall for the murder?

Shit.

This was big.

My hands shook on the steering wheel as I drove toward Pelican Bay. I tapped my thumb against the leather as I ran through my questions. The insurance policy created questions, and I needed them answered.

The clock read 4:35, and I didn't want to wait till tomorrow. This couldn't wait until tomorrow. I pulled over to the side of the road and grabbed my phone.

A quick internet search gave me the phone number of the local insurance company office. My stomach twisted as I listened to the rings waiting for someone to answer.

"Come on. Come on." The chanting helped. At least I believed it did.

And I gave Mr. Jasper a tiny fist bump on his forehead when a woman answered. "Clearwater Insurance, Mary speaking. How can I help you?"

"Hi, Mary. I'm looking for some information about a policy. Can you help me?"

Keys clicked from the other end of the call. "Do you have the policy number?"

"Yes," I said and gave Mr. Jasper another fist bump before reading her the number from the photo while I held the phone in front of my face.

Mary clicked her keyboard quickly. Each pound on the machine brought me closer to answers. "I can only give out key information to the policyholder. You don't sound like Frasier Jimmerson."

"No." Damn it. So close, only to be blocked by my missing penis. "But Frasier told me about the policy during a meeting. I'm considering getting a policy for my business partner."

I smiled. My word, I was a great liar. I should teach a class. People could pay me to teach them the ways. I'd be a millionaire. Right up there with the Kensington family.

"I see," Mary said. "I'd be happy to answer questions you'd have about your policy."

"Great." Shit. Now I had to figure out what questions I wanted to ask. "Do I have to inform my partner if I insure him?"

Mary made a weird noise. "You have to disclose a policy to the person you're insuring. We require a signature of consent from every insured party."

Hmmm. So, Mick knew he was worth two million. Did Frasier have a similar policy on himself?