“She knows you’re in danger.”

“Good Lord, Mouse. That hair dye’s seeped into your brain. Incidentally, your hair looks great,” Sister said.

“Thanks.” We were both quiet for a moment, thinking.

“I found out Jack Berliner wasn’t the boyfriend,” Sister added.

“How did you do that?”

“A trip to the third floor to see the Packard sisters while you were at the beauty parlor.”

“Good thinking.” The Packard sisters, rumored because of their ability to collect information as being retired from the CIA, are also known as the Gulf Towers equivalent of the Internet. “What did they say?”

“All the permanent residents had to vote to let the Berliners in because of Sophie. They wanted to move here because Jack’s brother and his family are here. They have a townhouse on the bay. Anyway, the ladies said Jack and Tammy charmed everyone at the New Year’s Eve party. Enough to bend the rules for them.”

“He and Millicent still looked pretty chummy.”

“Nope. He’s madly in love with his wife. The Packard sisters say so.”

“That’s one baldheaded fellow we can scratch off then.”

“Maybe. And Berry says Jason Marley’s one of the most respected developers in Florida and that he’s totally shaken about the deaths.”

“Which doesn’t mean he’s not the murderer. Frances says he’s not because he lives in a pink house. That’s crazy. And we’re convinced Fairchild couldn’t be the murderer because he’s so nice. Get real, Sister. Remember what Daddy said at his and Mama’s fiftieth anniversary when somebody asked him for the secret of their long marriage?”

Mary Alice giggled. “He said the secret was to not keep a gun in the house. But he was teasing.”

“Sure he was. He was also stating a universal truth. People usually kill in moments of passion.”

“Not Fairchild. He’s too nice.”

The only thing I had to hit her with was a piece of orange peeling.

A match flared against the dark seawall, went out. Another was lit and flickered against a cigarette. The third one was the charm and also told me who was sitting there.

“Come with me a minute,” I told Sister. “I think there’s a certain little girl down there who can tell us some things.”

The seawall is five feet tall, but on the Gulf side sand has pushed up against it forming a dune and making it easy to climb. We went over the stile, spoke to everyone, and headed out as if we were taking a walk. Then we cut back, climbed the dune as quietly as we could and leaned over the smoker.

“Hi, Sophie,” I said.

“Shit!” The rattled child choked. “What are you doing here?” she asked when she finished coughing.

“Just want to ask you something.”

“What about?”

“Millicent’s turtle earring.”

“Millicent gave it to me. I’ve already told the policeman.”