“To start, I need to check out Gulf Vista, walk around, see the layout, including the laundry room where she was killed, and the back service areas.”

“Isn’t it a gated resort?” Corey asked. “I know you can’t access the pool and patio areas from the beach, unless you have a key card.”

“I think I have a plan.” She glanced over at him. “Want to run a mission with me?”

He looked alarmed. “Is it something illegal?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s illegal. Per se.” She shrugged. “Never mind. I’ll go by myself.” She slid her feet into her flip-flops and began gathering her belongings.

He swatted her with the end of his towel. “Now you’ve got me hooked.”

The germ of the idea was planted in her mind as she rode past Gulf Vista the night she’d visited Yvonne Howington. She’d spotted the resort’s marquee. WELCOME PHELAN-KSIONSYK WEDDING. HAPPY EVER AFTER!

“How are you at lying?” she asked Corey.

“Terrible. I’m basically an honest person.”

“Okay. Let me put it this way. How good of an actor are you?”

Now he grinned, his white teeth flashing against his model-perfect tan. “I’m a normal gay man. Of course I’m a great actor.”

Drue fell silent.

“Hey,” Corey said. “You knew I was gay, right?”

“No,” she said, trying to cover her mortification. “Which makes you an even more terrific actor. And you’re just right for the role I have in mind.”

They pulled up to the gate at the Gulf Vista in Corey’s gleaming black BMW convertible. A security guard approached the car, dressed in a close imitation of a Royal Bahamian police officer’s uniform, correct down to the white Bermuda shorts, red sash and pith helmet. “Hi,” Corey said, leaning out the window. He pointed to Drue, who was dressed in a striped navy sundress and pearl earrings. “My fiancée and I are getting married this fall, and we’re considering having the wedding here, so we’d like to take a look around, if that’s all right.”

“Have you spoken to Danielle Thompson, in our events office?” the guard asked.

“Oh no, it’s a little early for that,” Corey said. “We thought we’d just have a drink in the bar and walk around and get the feel of the place. I mean, we haven’t even set the date yet.”

“Miss Thompson is the one who speaks to all our brides,” the guard repeated.

“She’s not a bride yet,” Corey said, giving the guard a conspiratorial wink.

A car pulled in behind them and the guard looked over his shoulder. He reached into his pocket and produced a white guest pass. “Name?”

“Sanchez,” Drue said quickly. Just as well she didn’t give her real name here.