I picked my jaw up off the floor after Barbie dropped the news that women were out here killing husbands on the island.

"What?" she asked as I stared at her. "I never killed anyone."

"Well," I sputtered. "That's good to know."

"Bert knows to stay in line," she said with a wink. Did the wink make it a joke? Did you joke about murdering husbands? "Don't get so upset, Vonnie. Women have been killing their husbands for centuries. Haven't you heard of Aqua Tofana?"

I tipped my head from side to side. Actually, I had. One of my favorite programs on the ID Channel had an entire episode on it. "Yes, but..."

"You didn't think that kind of thing happened anymore?" she asked with a new sly expression. "Women are just better at getting away with it than the men."

"That's the truth," I said and cradled NB to my chest as I stood. "We're just smarter."

"Always have been," Barbie said as she walked with me to the door. "Same time tomorrow?"

NB circled my feet as I put him on the ground and attached his leash. "You know it. See you then."

She held the door open for us and waited as NB and I left. Except we didn't return to our room at the resort. I needed to take care of a few more things before we called it a day. Murder stuff.

I really didn't want to believe Larken killed Melissa, but so far, none of the evidence excluded her. Until that happened, she had to stay on my suspect list. And worse, with each piece of evidence I collected, the more it pointed toward a woman killer. One I couldn't let get away with it.

NB and I headed out into the sunny day of August, the heat pulling at the back of my neck almost instantly. I let him sniff the same bushes he sniffed on our walk that morning and the night before as I pulled out my phone and opened my note folder, selecting the phone number I programed in earlier that morning.

I still had a ton of leads to follow up on in Melissa's death since I didn't know everyone on the island and their backstories. It made it a lot harder to solve a murder here than in Pelican Bay. But it wasn't going to solve itself, so I pressed call on the screen.

The phone rang twice before someone picked up with a quick hello.

"Is this Sunshine Designs?" I asked after being surprised by the casual way she answered.

"This is she. What can I help you with today?" the woman on the other end of the call asked.

My steps slowed, giving NB more time to sniff stuff. I'd found the card for Sunshine Designs on the top shelf in my new condo's walk-in closet. Just a few feet away from Melissa's body. I'm not saying the killer left a literal calling card, but I also wouldn't dismiss the idea either. Killers did weird things.

"Hi, I found your card at my friend's house, and I'm wondering where your store front is so I can visit," I lied. We paused at an intersection in the paved walkway, and I stared out over the horizon, waiting for her answer.

A seagull squawked above us, and I pressed the phone closer to my ear. "I don't have a storefront right now. All my sales are online and there's a waitlist. Did you see a pattern you liked?"

"Waitlist?" I questioned. Damn. That made things harder. "Where are you located?"

"The sunny state of Arizona, but I ship everywhere. If the post office drives to it, you can get one of my designs."

Hmm. "That's good to hear. Have you ever shipped anything to Killdear Island in Florida?"

"I fill fifty or more orders a month," she started but then paused. "Wait. No. Did you say Killdear? Is that the rich people's island?"

I chuckled. "That's the one."

"Yes," she said, perking up. "I remember that because I googled the island. The order was a tote bag with a succulent pattern and the buyer paid extra to have it made and shipped within a week. It took me two full nights to get it finished because she wanted double the number of inside pockets."

NB restarted our walk, and I followed behind him. This was the most boring conversation I'd ever had with a potential murder suspect. So boring that I almost yawned. "That sounds like a lot of pockets."

"It increased the cost too, but the woman didn't care. She said it was a Christmas gift for her daughter."

Thrilling. Absolutely thrilling. Not.

Which meant that on top of it being the most boring conversation ever, it also was another dead end.

"Thanks so much for your time. I'll definitely get on the website and look at your patterns." NB and I had made a circle of Barbie's condo building and ended up near the row of shops they called downtown.

"Just remember that it costs more if you want it quickly. I only sew after work and on weekends. Christmas orders also take longer, so order early to ensure your gift makes it on time," she said, sounding like she'd recited those words a million times.

"Right, right. Certainly," I said, before giving her a hasty good-bye to get off the phone.

The heat had beads of sweat dripping down the back of my neck, and I wanted to finish up my next tasks so we could plop on the resort mattress and take a nap.

"Come on. This way, NB," I said, tugging his leash to the side. "It's a shortcut."

We turned down a small alley between two shops and came to a halt. A tall guy wearing Hunter rubber garden boots and a pair of overalls had a woman up against the red brick building. Her bright yellow sundress flattened against his body as he pressed into her.

My fight instinct kicked in, and I readied myself to rescue the woman but then stopped. She giggled and reached her hands around his neck, pulling him tighter to her. They kissed. One of those loud, sloppy-kind of gross ones.

Wow.

NB and I did an about-face and hurried out of the alley without being noticed. That had to be the rich daughter hiding her illicit affair with the home gardener named Toby. Right? Who else got frisky in an alleyway?

Barbie didn't need to watch a daily soap. She just had to wander the island's alleyways to find herself all the gossip she needed. I'd definitely have to ask her about the lovers tomorrow on our walk.

"We'll just take the long way around," I said to NB as we ended back on the main road and turned toward the building I wanted to visit.

We did our best to appear nonchalant as we passed the building in question and then ducked in a side door. Thankfully, the building hadn't been locked down yet. I'd have to find a way inside once they put in the locks. Tourism was opening in the next few weeks, and the security boys still had a lot to do.

Harold's building smelled like cooking onion and the Avon perfume my grandmother used to bathe herself in every morning. I scrunched up my nose and pushed forward through the odor. We rode the elevator up to the tenth floor and searched out his apartment.

I knocked once we found it. NB sniffed the edge of the doorway, and I kept my eye on him as he paced. "Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" A woman with bleached blonde hair and the largest bright red lips I'd ever seen asked as she opened the door.

I stepped backward, taking NB with me. "Sorry. Sometimes doors excite him." He'd peed on more than one, but I left that information out of my explanation. "Is Harold here?"

She shook her head and pulled down the little bit of material she had covering her chest. It was too short to be a halter top, but it had more fabric than a sports bra. "No, he's out with his friend Ramone. They took the boat along the coast for the afternoon."

I imagined by boat she meant yacht rather than the fishing boat my imagination first created. I couldn't picture Harold on the small, gray metal, two-seater boat my father used to take out every weekend over the summer months.

"Do you have any idea when he'll be back?" I searched for a believable lie for why when her eyes narrowed at me. "Barbie told me he's the man I need to speak to about improving my golf game."

I also wanted to question him about why he'd run from me on his golf cart.

Her expression changed from distrust to delight in an instant. "I love Barbie. She's so nice. Come on in."

The door opened wider, and I walked us inside, keeping a tight rein on NB and his peeing ways. "Thanks. I don't mean to be a bother, but I'm intrigued by Harold's methods. They say he's improved greatly since last year."

We stopped in a wide-open space that let me see the entire condo and their giant set of windows. The primary space had no walls, and they'd used furniture and a kitchen island to segregate areas for a kitchen, living room, and eating space. My gaze scanned the area, taking in each section as its own mini delight.

"Wow," I said, staring at the huge geometrical fabric sectional couch that dominated the room. The entire place looked like we were walking through a curated museum of the 1980s. Even the carpet-a burnt orange color-reminded me of my grandmother's home.

The woman ran her hand over the glass top of the black metal-framed dining room table as we walked by. Her skirt was so short I hoped she didn't bend over while I was behind her. My father would have had a heart attack if he caught me wearing anything like it while I lived in Pelican Bay. I instantly made a mental note to find one on Amazon. "Harold's first wife paid to have the home specially decorated when they bought the condo in 1992."

That orange carpet didn't seem very 1992, but I wasn't an interior decorator.

"Well..." We came to the living room, but neither of us sat on the couch. "They did a spectacular job."

"He won't get rid of a single piece or let me change anything." Her nose flared. "But I've made my additions."

My gaze followed her hand as she pointed out a tall lamp in the room's corner, shoved off to the side behind a mauve-colored chair. It had a plain white lamp shade with fringe on the bottom edge. NB pulled on his leash, walking to the back side of the couch. "It's super cute."

"Thanks. We bought it during our last trip to France." She stared at the lamp with a dreamy expression.

NB sniffed the edge of the couch and moved his body beside it. My eyes narrowed at him, but he didn't notice. I had to get our conversation back on track before something terrible happened. My heart rate thumped along as the dog lined himself up and I tried to stick my foot between him and the couch. "Do you know how Harold's gotten so good at golf lately? I'm looking for any tricks or tips."

She still had her gaze on the lamp as she pushed back a piece of her long, blonde hair. "Sorry, he hasn't given me his secret. Harold likes to keep things to himself sometimes."

"Even from his wife?" I asked, tugging NB toward me. He definitely had his pee face on. We needed to get a move on it.