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developer.”
    Donovan shrugged. “Not many people knew. I guess it was some sort of secret.”
    “So what was your business with him?” Dom asked.
    “Business? I didn’t have any business with him,” Donovan answered.
    “I thought I saw you arguing with him.” Claire watched Donovan like a hawk. Probably studying his body language, Dom thought. She was good at figuring out if people had something to hide just by looking at the way they stood and the gestures they made.
    Dom thought it was all hooey, but he had to admit she did have a way of exposing people’s motives and intentions through their behavior. But those little intuitions and feelings didn’t hold up in court. Dom preferred hard evidence. His gaze slid to the boat docked next to the SeaStar , the Crabby Ellen. It was a fishing boat and in the back of it, he could see a fishing net made out of twine that was very similar to that found on the victim.
    Donovan said, “We didn’t argue. I think you must be mistaken.”
    Dom looked back at Donovan, who was now frowning at Claire.
    Claire narrowed her eyes. “I thought it looked like you had words.”
    Donovan chuckled. “Oh, well, you might have thought that. We were talking about baseball and it got a little heated. Can you believe he’s a Yankees fan?”
    Claire snorted. Everyone knew Donovan was a rabid Red Sox fan. He’d gotten into many arguments defending them, but as far as Dom knew, none of those had ended in murder.
    Dom pointed to the back of the Crabby Ellen . “Do you use that fishing twine on all your fishing boats?”
    Donovan glanced over. “Yeah. We always use the biodegradable.”
    “Different colors?” Dom asked.
    “What? Oh, no we always use the blue. It matches with our boats.” Donovan leaned over and tapped the side of the freshly painted SeaStar to illustrate. It was, indeed, blue. Dom remembered how proud Donovan had been at the beginning of the season when he'd gotten new paint jobs for the fleet of boats, and shirts for the crew to match.
    Dom glanced at Claire to see if she picked up on why he was asking. He hated to call attention to the importance of the twine, but Claire wasn’t stupid and she’d seen the twine around the victim’s neck. She didn’t seem overly interested in his line of questioning, though, so he continued. “You don’t use the brown on any of your boats?”
    Donovan’s eyes flicked across the dock to Barnacle Bob’s fleet of boats. Dom followed his gaze. Barnacle Bob had fishing boats, too, and Dom would wager they had twine nets in them.
    “Nope. I always use the blue.” Donovan removed his foot from the bench and bent over to pick up another plastic cup.
    Dom noticed one of the kids from the island, Bradley Sears, washing down Barnacle Bob’s fishing boat, the Last Catch, on the other side of the dock. Bradley was one of the island kids who Dom sometimes entertained with stories of his past cases.
    “Okay, well, nice talking to you,” Dom said to Donovan, who had already gone back to his clean-up task.
    Dom looked at Claire and jerked his head toward the Last Catch . She nodded and they walked across the wide dock.
    “Hey, Bradley,” Dom called out to the teen.
    Bradley turned, his face cracking into a smile when he saw Dom. He turned off the hose and came over to the railing of the boat.
    “Hey, Mr. Benedetti. That's something about the murder, huh?” Bradley’s voice raised an octave with excitement. Or maybe it was puberty. Either way, Dom could tell Bradley thought the murder was interesting. “This place is getting to be a real homicide magnet. I think you guys will catch the killer, right?”
    Bradley’s innocent, wide eyes ping-ponged back and forth between Claire and Dom, who exchanged an uneasy glance. Apparently, the last case had given them a reputation for solving the island’s crimes and Dom wasn’t sure if that would help them or hinder them with this one. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the whole island knowing