"Does the person have to sign the papers in your office, or can I have my partner sign the papers at home and I bring them in? He hates to leave the house."

It took Mary a second to answer. "Normally we accept signed copies but, in this case, I'd like to have a conversation with any new clients before we accept a policy."

Interesting.

Mick might not have known his corpse had a two-million-dollar pay check.

"Is two million a normal amount? It seemed high to me," I said, trying to add a laugh at the end.

"Hmm, it is a little high," Mary said, but she still sounded suspicious as hell of me. "We tell people a good rule is to maintain coverage between eight to ten times a person's salary. You can also calculate it based on a person's worth for the company and, being the owner, constitute a higher policy amount. It's fairly standard."

The adrenaline spike from finding the papers slowly decreased. If insurance companies had a freaking calculation for this kind of thing, it must not be that out of the norm. Two million seemed a stretch, but Mick got the money shots. It's possible he was worth it.

"You'll have to forgive me," I said, cutting off Mary as she explained variables to me. "I've just never heard of something like this before, but it sounds like it's popular."

She chuckled, going back to a natural tone of voice. "Oh yes. It's pretty common for business owners. We even have some CEOs with riders in the policies that they can't sky dive or play with fireworks."

"Really? Wow." Although, the longer I thought about it, the stipulations had merit. How many pro sports players lost their fingers over the Fourth of July weekend every year? I'd always wondered if the teams had to finish paying out their contracts once they had fewer digits. "Well, thank you so much for your help. It's been very informative."

"Of course. That's what we're here for," Mary said. "Would you like to make a time for you and your partner to come in and discuss our policies?"

No. That sounded like the last thing I wanted to do.

"I'll have to run it by my partner first, but we'll definitely stop by if I can talk him into spending the money on it. Thank you."

We hung up the call as I lowered my head in defeat.

People were weird. Going out and getting million-dollar life insurance policies. It also meant that Frasier might not have killed Mick for the money. Shit.

My best clue just disintegrated right before my eyes.

I spent the rest of the drive home contemplating my suspect list for Mick's murder. Since nothing had panned out, I was still fourth in line. But if I didn't kill him, who did?

"You look deep in thought," Broadrick said as I walked in the front door and immediately removed Mr. Jasper's harness. I'd been fighting fate, keeping him in it so long. He wouldn't be able to hold in his poop much longer.

"Yeah," I said, holding the bunny with one hand and slipping off my shoes.

Broadrick stood up from the couch. "And the rabbit is alive."

"What? Oh, yeah." I opened the top of his cage and set him inside. "We worked it off with some wonderful exercise, but no more carrots. They're poison."

Mr. Jasper ran to his feed bag and yanked out a piece of hay, nibbling it between his two front teeth. He'd gone at least an hour without food. The poor guy had to be almost starved.

"How?" Broadrick asked, as he followed me into the kitchen.

I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured water from the jug in the fridge. "Hmm?"

"How did you work it off with exercise? What kind of exercise?"

"A walk." It wasn't a lie. I walked. I sipped my drink and leaned against the counter. "Did you research how to pump his stomach?"

Broadrick stared at me from across the kitchen. "No. Was I supposed to?"

Shit. I'd asked Katy not him.

That pulled me from my thoughts. I set the glass on the counter and thew both my hands in the air for good measure. "No? Well, great, B. What if we need it one day? Now we'll never know."

"I doubt that will be a situation we run into," he said.

"We ran into it today." Did he forget already? My stomach rumbled. "Have you eaten?"

Food was more important than yelling at him about stomach pumping. I'd have to research it later.

"No."

"I'm starving," I said and pushed off from the counter. "And I want to talk to you about something. We should do it over food."

"That sounds ominous," Broadrick said with a frown.

I shrugged. "Not for you."

Unlike those couples who fought over where to eat dinner every night, Broadrick and I figured it out in under ten minutes. Mainly because we didn't have options. That time of night, the only places open in Pelican Bay were the bed-and-breakfast, the diner, and Buddy's pizza. Unless we wanted to make the drive to Clearwater, and I never wanted to see Clearwater again if possible. Sadly, it probably wasn't possible, so I at least wanted to stay out of it for the evening.

Since I didn't want to change into something nicer to eat at the B and B and wasn't in the mood for biker fights, we decided on the diner.

I waited until Trish finished taking our orders and delivered my large glass of Cherry Coke before rocking Broadrick's world. "I think my uncle is a drug lord."

Broadrick choked on his sip of water. He beat at his chest and used a napkin to cover his mouth. "Richard?"

"Yeah." I didn't have any other uncles.

His forehead did that crinkly thing, and he gave the ceiling a quick glance. "I doubt it."

"That's because you haven't heard the evidence," I said and pressed the tip of my index finger against the smooth tabletop.

Broadrick twisted his glass in a circle, leaving water spots. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Aunt Claire thinks he's having an affair, but another woman would honestly be the better option," I said and then laid out all my evidence for Broadrick.

The receipts.

The boxes of stuff at the storage unit.

The late nights out of town.

The black backpacks.

Emma and her Snowbird connection.

It wasn't enough to put someone away, but he was definitely up to something.

Broadrick's mouth fell open a little more with each part I shared. He didn't close it until Trish brought our dinners.

"What do you think?" I asked and then took my first bite of turkey club after dunking it in my side of mayo.

He stabbed his fork into his salad. "You didn't tell me your family is crazy, too."

I chewed faster to swallow. "B, this is serious."

"I agree," he said with a little head jerk.

I dunked the end of my sandwich in the little plastic cup of mayo again. "What do I do?"

It took him a second to answer. "I honestly don't know. You need more evidence. Something concrete."

"Yeah, I do." Right then, I didn't have enough to do anything.

"But don't let your feelings get in the way," he said, waving his fork at me. "This is a case."

"Great idea. How?" Richard had been my uncle for as long as I'd been alive. How did I push that to the side and prove he supplied the county with their illicit drugs?

"Follow the money," Broadrick said and ate a piece of his salad. A crouton jumped out of the bowl and skidded across the table. "Hopefully, Spencer will crack that spreadsheet soon. I'll tell him to put a rush on it."

Follow the money. I could do that. Right? I had to go back to the receipts. Put numbers to paper and then follow where it led.

"I have something to tell you, too," Broadrick said, but I was so busy calculating figures in my head I almost missed it.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Really?"

He nodded. "I'm ready to tell you about those meetings with Dalton."

"Do tell." I raised the other eyebrow.

This I wanted to hear. Even if it made my stomach twist.

Broadrick set down his fork and released a breath. "Ridge is opening a new branch out of state. It's a special project with many moving parts and demanding clients. He wants a team of two guys to lead up the operation."

"And this involves you because?" Was he part of the team? He couldn't be. "You can't work for Ridge until you leave the military."

He was still the government's bitch until at least the end of the year. I spent half my days worrying they planned to ship him off again.

"I'd be part of the team. Ridge understands my situation, and he's willing to bring me in as Dalton's partner. We're not sure it's a go yet. Quite a few pieces still have to come together."

"Wow," I said, unsure of what else I could say. It sounded like... a lot. "Where?"

Broadrick smiled. "Florida."

Florida? That was a long fucking way from Maine.

"So, you'd move to Florida?"

B nodded with his smile still stretching his face. "We'd move. I hope. I didn't want to tell you until I knew for sure. It's a private security gig for an island off the coast of Florida. Ocean view for days."

"An island? The entire thing?"

"Yup, the entire island. A bunch of rich people started a commune, but now they're opening it to tourism because of the economy."

I harrumphed. Sounded like a rich people's thing to do.

"Nothing is set in stone. I just wanted to tell you in case he goes through with it. Also, so you'd stay out of Dalton's stuff."

I rolled my eyes. "Have you seen his truck? He doesn't have any stuff."

"I just don't want you to get too excited about it.

My stomach tightened but not necessarily in excitement.