I hadn't heard from Barbie by the time I made it back to the ferry launch point on the mainland, so I assumed everything was going well. We'd exchanged numbers, but she never said if she used text messaging. To avoid an issue, I didn't text her notice of my impending arrival.

Instead, I spent the first few minutes on the boat researching Melissa's listings on the island. Reliable data signal cut out about five minutes offshore, but I had a nice list going by then. On first inspection, it appeared Melissa and Larken had an almost even split of island contracts. Melissa had the lead, but not by much.

The last of the internet flickered away, and I shut off the phone display, giving the blank screen a few taps as I sat back on the ferry seat. These long rides were great for thinking... if my mind didn't wander in a thousand different directions.

By the time we reached the dock on the island I'd planned out Christmas presents for everyone, decided on the Facebook post I needed to make once I had signal again, and created three new reasons to give Broadrick when he asked about the shoes being delivered tomorrow. Unfortunately, I hadn't gotten any further with the whole murder business.

I never gave Barbie a time I'd be back, but I didn't want to give NB a long enough opportunity to pee on something expensive. With his small bladder in mind, I jumped off the boat as soon as we docked on the island and set off at a jog toward the condo building. I just had to make one quick stop first.

One of the condo listings for Melissa had a familiar address, and I wanted to check it out before picking up NB from his playdate. I wasn't a PI any longer, but since I was already in the building, having a quick peek wouldn't hurt anyone.

Melissa's listing was six floors higher than the dead body condo and had been on the market for almost two years. The property was seven million dollars-way over my imaginary budget-but money made people do weird things. Especially that much money. What if the seller got sick of Melissa taking so long to sell their very expensive condo, and the argument turned heated? I hadn't figured out the knitting needle part yet. Or how they'd know where she was or the lacking signs of a struggle.

Listen, it was a working theory.

But something in my gut told me I needed to check the place out. Plus, the listing had gorgeous pictures, and I wanted to see what seven million bought you on an island of millionaires. Sure, I'd given up being a PI, but I'd never given up being nosy.

I scurried into the condo building, gave a peek toward Barbie's door, and then made a break for the elevator. Soft music played as I rode up to the proper floor and then stepped out toward the listing address. The write-up boasted a city view out of the expansive windows-probably another reason for the outrageous price since Larken said that was a sought-after side of the island.

Nerves built in my chest as I stopped in front of the condo door. When did I get so nervous all the time? Since I didn't have a disguise, I knocked on the door softly in case someone was home and then waited thirty seconds.

Nothing.

I reached my hand out to try the handle-you never knew with rich people-but the door opened as my fingertips grazed the cool metal.

A woman wearing all black-but as a fashion statement, not mourning-opened the door. "Can I help you?" she asked, with a skeptical expression.

I dropped my gaze to take in my appearance. Possibly the jog here wasn't the best idea now that I'd gotten sweaty. I adjusted the hem of my shirt. "Good morning. I saw this condo was for sale and the pictures were just amazing. Are you the seller?"

The woman blinked. "Yes, but you must be pre-approved by a licensed realtor to see the property. We're not accepting anything less than full asking price. And we're requiring a seventy-two-hour notice."

"Right. Right." Maybe her attitude and conditions had something to do with the lack of offers. "Did you hear about Melissa? They found her body in a condo just a few floors below you. I'm not sure how to request a showing."

The woman leaned back as if she was just learning, but there's no way that news hadn't spread through the entire island. "Yes, it's shocking, and now we're having to find a new realtor. My husband won't use Larken. We'll have to go off-island for representation. Can you imagine?"

I couldn't. Because...weird. She acted like the tragedy was her loss of realtor rather than the said realtor's death. "Had you heard from Melissa recently? When is the last time you spoke to her?"

She narrowed her eyes and flung her arm in the air between us. "I don't know. We were on our last summer vacation. In Italy, celebrating before the children had to return to school. There hasn't been time to converse with the help."

Wow. I hoped her condo stayed on the market for a decade.

"Italy. That must have been fun."

Her eyes narrowed another half-an-inch. "We don't vacation for fun but relaxation and enrichment opportunities."

That sounded horrible but whatever. I needed to get downstairs and rescue NB from Barbie. Or save Barbie from NB. It could go either way.

"Do you have any pictures of these enrichment activities?"

She smacked her lips, which didn't seem very rich lady-like, and held up her phone to her face. "This is outrageous. I don't even know who you are."

I rolled back on my feet and then forward again, trying to act innocent while I waited. If I told her the truth, she'd probably call the cops, which meant my boyfriend would show up. "Just an interested party."

"See. We took the children to St. Mark's Square." She showed me a picture teeming with people. I stared at it. What was I supposed to find interesting?

I tipped my head to stare at it from another angle. "Anything recognizable."

The noise that came out of her sounded like a bear dying from too many salmon. She flicked her finger against the phone, sliding through photos. "Here."

A picture of the leaning Tower of Pisa-also surrounded by tourists-filled the screen. Her family, with two teenage-aged children, took up a large section of the photo right in the middle, but it was definitely the recognizable building.

I smiled at the cute family shot. "You should have had one of the kids try to hold up the building for a photo." It's totally what I'd do if I ever visited.

She rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "We don't do those kinds of things."

Right. That might make her enjoyable. The horror.

"Well, thank you for the help. I hope you find a new realtor or give Larken a chance to impress you."

She lowered the phone and crossed her arms. "We certainly won't be using Larken. Everyone knows she murdered Melissa because of jealousy. Those two women hated each other."

"I've heard something like that. Did you ever see them argue?"

The woman shook her head and tightened her arm cross. "No, but I've heard stories. They were never seen in public together."

I probably wouldn't be seen in public with my competition either, but it still didn't look good for Larken. She'd been so upset when we found Melissa's body, but that didn't always mean she wasn't responsible. Did I need to check her out more? Follow up on these stories.

"I'm sure the police are investigating," I said and turned around, not wanting to hear more about my realtor.

The music grated against my brain as I rode the elevator to the first floor. Who made the rule that said elevators had to play boring songs? Once on the first floor, I headed toward Barbie's condo, keeping my eye on the murder home's door as I passed it.

An older man with skinny arms and only wisps of stark white hair on his head opened the door of Barbie's condo.

"Is Barbie here?" I asked as he opened the door wider.

The man grinned, showing off two rows of perfectly white teeth. "You must be Vonnie."

"Maybe." I didn't want to give too much away in case he turned out to be a serial killer who killed Melissa and had Barbie's body stashed in her closet right this moment.

"Bert!" Barbie's voice rang out from the other room, and I released a breath. "Don't stand there with the door open."