“That’s your job to figure out.” Perry held out his hand to his wife. “Let’s go, sweetheart. Our duty is done, and we’re supposed to meet Mel and Fred at the dock.”

Anarchy waited until they left the barn, then asked, “Was that one of the motives you found this morning?”

“Yes.”

“I can’t wait to hear the others.”

Oh, joy. “When you asked him for an alternative suspect, Perry didn’t throw anyone under the bus.”

“He did not.”

“You’ve got to respect that. And he told you about the client.”

Anarchy’s eyes twinkled. “He might have had some prompting. Still, I can’t help but like the guy. I hope he’s innocent.”

I did, too.

Chapter Six

I spread a beach towel on a chaise lounge and plopped myself down next to a pool the size and shape of a postage stamp. Its concrete apron had all the charm of an abandoned quarry. It was still better than swimming in the lake.

“You’re really going to stay here?” Libba frowned her disapproval.

I opened the Tab I’d brought with me and sipped. “I am.”

“But everyone else is at the lake.” Libba wore a red bikini. An expensive red bikini that made my low-cut one-piece suit seem matronly. Libba would regret wearing that suit when she couldn’t get rid of the smell of lake water.

“You don’t have to stay with me. Go to the lake.”

“But you'll be here alone.”

“I’m aware.” I pointed at the latest issue of Vogue. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why won't you come?”

I regarded her from over the rim of my sunglasses. “Snakes.” Also, I needed some time alone.

“There are no snakes.”

“You don't know that. If I saw a cottonmouth, it wouldn’t have to bite me. I'd have a heart attack in the water and drown.”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Go.” I shooshed my free hand at her. “I’m going to stay next to the snake-free pool and read this article about A Chorus Line.” I flipped pages until I found it. “Maybe Anarchy and I will get tickets the next time we go to New York. Look here.” I tapped the next page. “There’s also an article about Matisse.”

“You’re the only woman I know who takes Vogue for the articles.”

I paid attention to the fashion, too. “Matisse was a genius.”

Libba, who was unimpressed with dead artists, rolled her eyes. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine. Go.”

“You know there’s a killer.”

How could I forget? “I found the body.”

“There could be a second murder.”

“You’re worried about me? Don’t. Someone wanted Graham dead.” A lot of people wanted Graham dead. “I’m not a target.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“I’d rather face a man with a gun than a snake.”

“Where’s Anarchy?”

“Investigating the murder.”

She narrowed her eyes.