Over the course of an hour, the island filled to the brim with EMTs (who declared the closet body to be one hundred percent dead), police officers, crime scene unit personnel, and morgue workers all from the mainland. The police came over on a helicopter, but I think the rest took the ferry. I wanted to ask one of them how they passed the boring-as-hell forty-five-minute journey, but Broadrick said no.

Something about they had a job to do, and I shouldn't bother them. But from the long faces they all wore, I figured they needed a brief distraction.

Broadrick and I placed ourselves outside the condo in the shared green space at a small round table with four chairs. The wind came in off the ocean and swept through the space, but the breeze smelled different than when it happened in Pelican Bay. In Maine the wind often acted like it had a grudge to settle, and it wanted to even the score by taking off half your face. Here, with the sunshine and buzz of people, it resembled more of a tickle. The sweep of a lover's hand against your cheek. It felt intimate, and that freaked me out a little.

Okay, a lot.

"How much do you think the AC bills are here?" I asked Broadrick.

He whipped his head in my direction, taking his sights away from the large swaying palm he'd been staring at for the last two minutes. He barked out a laugh before answering. "A lot. Although, the island has to be cooler than anything in the middle of Florida."

I had no plans to test that theory, so I gave him a quick head nod of agreement.

"Are either of you listening to me?" the mean-faced detective with blue eyes and stubble covering his chin asked with an annoyed tilt to his head.

And oops. I had not. Maybe he had a reason to be annoyed, but also he was just kind of a jerk. Not a jerk like Detective Anderson from Pelican Bay, but actually jerky. He'd been standing by our table for the last thirty minutes, looking down on us. Literally, since he refused to sit in either of the vacant chairs.

"Of course, Detective," Broadrick answered, much nicer than anything I had to say. "Ms. Vines and I understand the severity of the situation. No one wants to impede a murder investigation."

Why did it seem like Broadrick held my gaze while he said that last part? I wasn't a PI any longer, so I had no intentions of getting involved in a murder scene. Let alone impeding anything.

The detective's eyes grew wide, completely missing the silent war happening between Broadrick and me. Men.

"What did you just say?" the detective demanded. He positioned both hands on his hips and puffed out his chest at Broadrick. The buttons on his white shirt strained to hold on. He wasn't even wearing the detective trench coat. How were we supposed to take him seriously? "We don't use the M word on Killdear Island. What happened today was clearly an accident."

I choked on some spit. My life flashed before my eyes, ending with the last view of Melissa Cramwell's body lying sideways in a walk-in closet with a knitting needle sticking out of her ear. That didn't scream accident to me. Broadrick's body lurched forward two millimeters at the detective's words. He agreed.

I silently searched the detective's person, looking for his badge. Did we verify his status as lead detective? I mean, if he didn't have the badge hanging by a cord from his neck, was he even a detective? How could we be sure?

"Did she trip and fall on the giant needle in her ear?" my traitorous mouth asked before I clamped it shut.

The detective narrowed his eyes at me. He'd been unpleasant from his first sentence, explaining the island constituted a section of his district and he was tired of our rich people's problems. I'd tried to explain we weren't rich people, but learning that Broadrick was part of the new "rich people's private security team" didn't make him any happier. In fact, Broadrick's update caused the detective's face to crinkle into an entirely new level of annoyance.

No one had ever considered me a rich person before, and right then, it wasn't turning out in my favor.

"Weird accidents take lives all the time, Ms. Vines. Hell, they've made television shows about it," he said, sounding like that explained everything.

Broadrick flashed me a "shut up" expression, so I pressed my lips together and leaned back in my chair. The muscles ached as the metal design of the seat cut into my back. He had to let us go soon so I could stretch. His entire persona made me miss Anderson. And that was damn scary.

And what exactly were rich people problems? Death? Did he get called here for death often? Wasn't that part of the entire detective's job description?

"Detective Parsons, may I speak to you for a moment?" a graying man in a black two-piece suit asked as he approached our group.

Our realtor pointed him out earlier as Tom Bartholt, the president of the city council. From the way Larken said it, as if she was in awe, I figured that made him the de facto mayor. It also explained why people seemed to listen to him when he spoke, even if he sometimes sent off splashes of spittle.

The detective turned slowly, his forehead flat, but his eyes screaming for mercy. "What do you need now, Tom?"

Ohhhh. First name basis. I took a mental note of the icy relationship.

"I'm getting questions from residents about the accident. They'd like to know how much longer your team will be here."

Parsons closed his eyes in the longest slow blink I'd ever witnessed firsthand. It reminded me of Anderson. Maybe they taught it at the academy. "The investigation will take as long as it needs."

The fake mayor wrung his hands together. "It was an accident. Correct? Many are worried about our crime statistics and property values during this transition."

I did a slow blink to rival Parsons. Someone was dead, and they were worried about property values on their crazy overpriced island. Oh... well, I guess that made sense. You couldn't charge thirty-five thousand dollars a year in member dues if you had a crime problem.

"It wasn't an accident, though." A needle to the head was definitely not an accident.

Both men turned to give me nasty glares and Broadrick shushed me. "Just smile and nod," he whispered in my ear.

I smiled. And gave a half-nod. It was the best I could muster in the extreme situation. Still, I did my best to look wowed by the atmosphere.

The woman from earlier, wearing the same white pantsuit but decked out in jewels from a sparkling bracelet and a thick wrap of pearls around her neck, speed walked in our direction. Larken had introduced us earlier. Barbara Mars-I totally suspected from the candy company family-and the next-door neighbor to the dead woman's condo had a face set in stone determination. I stood up straighter, excited to see where she took the drama.

"Lord, help me," Parsons muttered under his breath. "Mrs. Mars, everything is under control at this point in time, and my crews are working as quickly as possible."

"That answer is unacceptable. Your investigation into this simple accident is interrupting my afternoon shows."

I smiled genuinely. The soap opera obsession reminded me of my last case in Pelican Bay. You did not want to mess with a woman missing an episode of her favorite soap.

Detective Parsons stepped to the side to speak privately with Barbara. I stood up from our table as Broadrick did.

"This place is crazy," he said once we were out of earshot.

I grinned. "Yeah, I kind of like it."

Broadrick shook his head and let out a slow breath. "I don't want to leave you alone, but I need to update Ridge on the situation. Are you okay if I take you to the craft store?"

My grin doubled. I'd had a great night at the craft and book store when we first visited the island. "Sure, I can look at the knitting needles."

A few minutes later, he left me at the door to Stitchin' Stories with a promise that I'd stay put and not cause any trouble. Together, he and NB walked off toward the Pelican Bay Security Extension Office, or whatever they were calling it now. I expected to sneak in undetected and spend a few minutes browsing the pattern books before I took off for a cupcake and then a stroll along the beach to eat it.

"Girl, sit down. We want all the updates in gruesome detail," Ragen said as the door closed behind me. "Harvard! Get in here right now. Vonnie's here!"