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place.”
    Greer shrieked. She ran to the suitcase, unzipped it, and began flinging clothes onto the floor. When the cockroach scuttled away, she hesitated only a second before slapping it flat with her rubber flip-flop.
    She heard the door close noisily, and then, unmistakably, she heard him chuckle as he trundled the cart back down the corridor.
    *   *   *
    He pushed the cart into the laundry room and began shoving towels into one of the big commercial washing machines. He punched the On button, and as hot water began flowing into the big stainless steel drum he leaned against the folding table and thought idly of the flaky woman in room seven.
    She wasn’t your usual Silver Sands guest. Crazy curly blond hair, nice legs, and when she’d bent over to kill the roach he’d been rewarded with a glimpse of a very nice-looking butt in some skimpy leopard-print panties. He decided she looked more the type for Miami, or maybe Longboat Key or Palm Beach. What was she doing this far off the beaten path in Cypress Key? He’d checked for a wedding band, but she wasn’t wearing one. No fishing tackle in the room, and only one suitcase. She was single, traveling alone, and she damn sure wasn’t chasing trophy tarpon, that was for sure. So what was she chasing?
    A rented Kia with Tampa license plates was parked outside her room. Maybe he’d get the chief to run the tag number and find out what she was up to.
    He was so busy pondering the mysteries of guest number seven that he almost forgot to add the detergent and bleach before the spin cycle began.

 
    5
    Greer was halfway to the motel office, intent on lodging an official complaint with management, when her cell phone rang.
    â€œHi, Greer. This is Bennett Wheeler. I’m Bryce Levy’s assistant. We met the other day at the house?”
    â€œOh, hi, Bennett.”
    â€œDid you get any of my e-mails?” Bennett sounded slightly peeved.
    â€œNo. Sorry. The motel where I’m staying doesn’t have Wi-Fi. I was just going into town to try and check my e-mail.”
    â€œNo Wi-Fi?” He sounded as incredulous as Greer felt.
    â€œBryce told me to let you know that he’ll be out there on Monday, at which point he’d like to be able to tour all the locations you’ve set up.”
    â€œMonday?” Greer felt a rising sense of panic. “But today’s Friday. And I just got here yesterday.”
    â€œRight. Bryce is eager to get started. Um, about Cypress Key. How exactly does one get there?” Bennett asked.
    â€œI suppose the nearest airport is in Gainesville. I’m not sure which airlines fly there from L.A., though.”
    â€œOh, Bryce never flies commercial. Just let me know which local airport can accommodate a Gulfstream G650.”
    â€œI’ll check on that.”
    â€œGreat. Now, about housing?”
    â€œI’ve arranged to lease a motel here on Cypress Key for the locations, and I think it’ll work for most of the cast and crew as well,” Greer said.
    â€œI’m sure your motel is perfectly sweet, but Bryce will need a private residence. Minimum four bedrooms, four baths. A pool, of course. A screening room and hot tub would be nice.…”
    Greer thought about what she’d seen of the island so far. The waterfront to the north and the south of the Silver Sands was studded with modest wood-frame cottages. Nothing she’d seen would meet the standards of a man who lived like a pasha back in L.A.
    â€œI’ll find a real estate agent and see what’s available,” Greer promised. “But Cypress Key isn’t Brentwood. There aren’t a lot of properties like what you’ve described. And this is pretty short notice.”
    â€œCeeJay says you’re a miracle worker,” Bennett said blithely. “Also, Kregg and his people are going need a house. You don’t have to worry about Adelyn Davis. Her assistant made