When I pulled out of the garage, I discovered the town house finally had neighbors. An older man in a tracksuit and Cubs’ cap was searching the bushes between us, most likely for his newspaper.

I got out to close the garage and introduce myself, and paid close attention to his expression when I told him I was Wendy’s sister. He said she had moved in after he’d left for Chicago in May, and I was relieved. Maybe he could have told me things he’d seen as Wendy’s neighbor, but I was glad we were starting fresh. He wasn’t as foolproof or cuddly as Bismarck, but another set of eyes in the neighborhood was a good thing.

I listened to a variety of true crime podcasts on the lengthy trip to Delray Beach, checking out the competition. By the time I arrived, I’d formed a long list of things we should never do at Out in the Cold and a short list of things we might want to try. Of course now that we’d triumphed once, the pressure was on.

I convened two different meetings with crew members, and Sophie and I took comments on the case we had zeroed in on. The feedback was positive and we were that much closer to moving forward if Sebastian was in agreement. I had time scheduled with the big boss on Sunday, and I expected to be able to convince him.

Sophie and I went out for lunch before afternoon meetings, and on the walk to one of my favorite local dives, she caught me up on Ike and the family barbecue. “His daughter is a sweetheart. My girls will love her.”

“And Ike?”

“Also a sweetheart.” Her smile almost stretched to the rhinestone earrings twinkling in her earlobes.

We settled on stools at the counter and made our order. I realized how much Teo would like this place. It wasn’t the first time since arriving here that I’d thought about him.

While we wolfed down fish tacos, I told her about last night. Sophie waited until I’d finished my account before she commented. “Do you have thoughts about what your sister was doing there?”

The question was so low-key, so neutral, that I was stumped for what to say. A part of me had been prepared to go on the defensive.

“I’m out of ideas. I’d like your help.”

“She’s using an alias. We could start there.” She turned up a palm in question.

“Okay.”

“So she doesn’t want the clientele of a biker bar to know her real name. That makes sense to me. You?”

“I had a fake name all prepared last night if I needed one.”

“How well-known is she in Seabank?”

I had no idea. Wendy had graduated from high school decades before. Nobody ages so well they are instantly recognizable.

I felt my way to an answer. “She works for Gracey Group, but I’m doubtful the people she works with would party down at Against the Wind. Certainly my parents’ country club friends wouldn’t.”