I had, and I was happily writing out a check when Bernice said, “I’m sure the guy was going bald.”

“Who was going bald?”

“The man Millicent was seeing. She asked me one time what I knew about Rogaine, and I told her she’d have to ask a doctor. She sure wasn’t asking for Fairchild, was she?”

I thought about Fairchild’s beautiful white hair. No, Fairchild had no need for Rogaine. But a lot of the men Millicent knew did.

“He was bald in my dream. That’s for sure.” Bernice stuck my check in her pocket. “You come back, now.”

As I headed back toward the condo, I mulled over what Bernice had told me about the Rogaine and considered who might use it.

First, obviously, was Jason Marley. He was bald as a billiard ball and the hairpieces proved he was self-conscious about it. He was involved in the development and was trying not to harm the turtle habitat any more than necessary.

Eddie Stamps was also involved in the development. He and Millicent had known each other for years, true, but maybe one of the first signs of his illness was an increased libido with Millicent as the recipient. That would have infuriated Laura. Okay, possibilities here.

Berry West was losing his hair but he was not involved in the development or interested in the turtle rescue program. Besides, he lived in Birmingham. Very vague possibility that he was the “fling.”

Jack Berliner, though, the man in whose arms Millicent was glowing on New Year’s, was still a very good possibility. Home a lot, just down the hall. His wife gone much of the time. Even Sophie, whom Millicent loved, would have brought them closer together. But if he did prove to be the lover, that didn’t make him a murderer, in spite of Bernice’s “feelings.” And there had been two murders. Someone had had a good motive.

The last arc of the sun sank into the Gulf as I crossed the Destin bridge. For a second, the horizon flashed green. I hoped Haley had seen it. I also hoped that Major Bissell and Lisa Andrews would hurry up and solve the murders. Like Bernice, I had a “feeling.” I knew there was a cold-blooded killer among us.

Fred was pacing the parking lot when I pulled in. “Where have you been?” he asked, snatching the door open.

“And hello to you, too. I’ve been to the beauty parlor. See?” I stepped out of the car expecting him to be dazzled.

Instead, I got, “There’s such a thing as a phone, you know.”

How many times had I said those very words to our kids? Fred had even used the same intonation. I laughed. Big mistake. He turned and marched toward the lobby.

“Wait up, honey,” I said, hurrying after him. “I’m sorry.” I caught up with him at the elevator. “What’s the matter with you?”