A Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Collection: Volume 1, Books 1-3: Sapphire Beach Cozy Mysteries, #1

By Angela K. Ryan

Books 1-3 of the Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Series

 

Sun-drenched Florida beaches. A Fair Trade jewelry shop owner. Mysteries that will keep you guessing.

 

If you enjoy page-turner cozy mysteries, loveable characters, and palm trees swaying in the breeze, you'll love the Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Series!

 

Condos and Corpses (Book 1)
Connie Petretta can think of no other option but to sell the beach front condo she recently inherited from her beloved aunt, but a murder in the apartment next door stalls her plans. As she tries to prove her friend and neighbor's innocence, she contemplates keeping the condo and opening a jewelry shop in Sapphire Beach, where tourists abound, to showcase her handmade creations. But starting a business would mean walking away from an eleven-year career in humanitarian work, and her overseas contacts have become like family over the years. Will she find a way to combine her love for jewelry making with her passion for humanitarian work and solve the murder in the process?

 

Surf, Sand and Skeletons (Book 2)
Connie Petretta is excited for the grand opening of Just Jewelry, her new store featuring Fair Trade jewelry, as well as her own handmade creations. But while setting up shop, she discovers evidence that the previous tenant, Natasha, who disappeared a year ago, may not have run away as many assumed. Connie's belief that Natasha would not abandon her young daughter impels Connie to investigate.

Piers, Pliers and Problems (Book 3)
Connie Petretta is excited to teach her first jewelry making class in her brand-new shop, Just Jewelry. Her teaching debut is off to a good start, that is, until one of her students is found murdered under the pier after class. And if that isn't bad enough, Connie's missing pliers turn out to be the murder weapon. Will Connie solve the mystery in time to save her store's reputation?

 

Begin your getaway today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: John Paul Publishing
• Release date: Mar 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9781734087659

Angela K. Ryan

Angela K. Ryan, author of the Sapphire Beach Cozy Mystery Series, writes clean, feel-good stories that uplift and inspire, with mysteries that will keep you guessing. When she is not writing, Angela enjoys the outdoors, especially kayaking, stand up paddle boarding, snowshoeing, and skiing. She lives near Boston and loves the change of seasons in New England, but, like her main character, she looks forward brief escapes to the white, sandy beaches of southwest Florida, where her mother resides. Angela dreams of one day owning a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel like Ginger but isn’t home enough to take care of one. So, for now, she lives vicariously through her main character, Connie.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

H oney, are you sure you don't want me to stay longer to help you clean out the condo? Josephine Petretta asked, as her daughter yanked her suitcase from the trunk and dropped it onto the sidewalk outside the JetBlue check-in area at Southwest Florida International Airport.

I'm positive, Mom, Connie said, giving her mother a grateful hug. If we go through Auntie Concetta's belongings together, we'll get sidetracked at every photo and memory. I promise to save everything that has sentimental value.

Jo reluctantly pulled up the handle of her own designer suitcase.

Connie's got this, Mom, Gianna insisted, pulling her own luggage from the trunk and gently embracing her older sister. Let her do it. It would be too emotional for you, and besides, we have a business to get back to. Jo and Gianna owned a home staging company that they had already been away from for too long.

Connie was grateful that her mom and sister had made the road trip down to Sapphire Beach, Florida, with her, especially since her father had to stay behind in Boston for work. Time passed more quickly during the twenty-four-hour drive with her mother and sister to talk to, even if she had to share the radio. And she needed her car to bring home any possessions the family might want to keep, especially her aunt's extensive scrapbook collection. It was a treasure the family valued now more than ever.

The excursion had also provided a much-welcomed opportunity, now that the probate process was complete, to spend a few final days together in a place that meant so much. Jo’s sister, Concetta, who had been a retired actress before passing away six months prior after a brief battle with colon cancer, had lived in Sapphire Beach for the past fifteen years, and it held precious memories of countless family vacations and holidays.

It would also provide the perfect backdrop for Connie to give some thought to her future. She had treasured every minute of her time with Feeding the Hungry, the non-profit agency where she worked for the past eleven years. She had been an integral part of the small team since the beginning, when her boss and mentor, Sam O’Neil, founded the organization to bring aid to impoverished villages in developing countries. However, lately, since the organization had become more established, site visits were fewer and farther between and much of Connie's time was spent organizing fundraising events, coordinating volunteers, and managing the donor database - worthwhile work for sure, just not the best use of Connie's talents and interests.

In addition, her best friend, Bethany, would soon be getting married and moving to Colorado with her new husband, where they had jobs lined up teaching skiing at one of the resorts. Beth had been itching for a change and with all the time they spent together, it was rubbing off on Connie.

As her mother and sister passed through the large glass doors leading into the terminal, Connie gave them a heartfelt wave. Then she hopped back into her silver Jetta and onto Route 75 South, toward the town of Sapphire Beach and her deceased aunt's oceanfront condo - a condo that now belonged to Connie.

Connie, Jo, and Gianna had been Concetta's only living relatives. She was divorced and never had children, but she always said she couldn't have loved Connie and Gianna any more if they were her own. She left her condo, with its stunning views of the Gulf of Mexico, to Connie, her namesake, while Jo and Gianna inherited her substantial investment portfolio. She also left a hefty sum to Feeding the Hungry. Jo liked to say that the only thing larger than Concetta's personality was her heart.

Within twenty minutes of pulling off the highway, Connie was on Sapphire Beach Boulevard. She rolled down the windows and allowed the clean, salty air to fill her lungs. Sapphire Beach had always been her happy place.

The temperature was in the high sixties, typical for an early January morning in southwest Florida, and the sun beat down through the sunroof. She would definitely miss the warm Florida weather when she went back to Boston. She smiled, remembering all the times her aunt had called her in the middle of a blizzard just to say that she was walking the beach or sitting outside having lunch. What are you doing, sweetie? Concetta would ask in a teasing tone, knowing full well that Connie was most likely shoveling her car out from under a mountain of snow.

About two miles down Sapphire Beach Boulevard, Connie turned into the entrance of Palm Paradise, the high rise where her aunt had lived. Coconut palm trees flanked the long driveway leading to the white fourteen-story high rise where her aunt had found so much peace in the final years of her life. An array of flowers, including blue daze, bougainvillea, and graffiti rose decorated the front of the building, beckoning guests and residents into the luxurious lobby. It filled Connie with warmth to know that her aunt had found such an amazing place to call home.

She pulled up to the entrance of the underground garage, punched in the access code, and pulled her car into #33. Each unit had its own underground parking space, with a storage unit attached, and a second outdoor space in the front parking lot, next to where visitors parked.

Not wanting to wait for the elevator, Connie climbed the stairs to the lobby and walked across the polished marble tile to the mailboxes. These days, all that was ever in her aunt's box was junk mail, but she was glad it was empty. One less thing to deal with today.

As she waited for the elevator, under a gold starburst chandelier, her mind went to the day's tasks. Today she would clean the condo from top to bottom, so that she could get the realtor her mother had researched to come by as soon as possible. True to her Italian-American upbringing, Aunt Concetta's place was usually so clean you could eat off the floors. However, since it had been empty for six months, it was in need of a thorough cleaning. Her aunt would roll over in her grave if Connie let anyone see her home looking less than pristine. So today she would focus on making the condo sparkle.

Connie’s thoughts were interrupted when a friendly voice called from behind. Sweetie, hold that elevator a second while I grab my mail. It was Grace Jenkins, Concetta's floormate and close friend, carrying a few bags from Publix. A strand of gray hair fell across her tan face.

Grace had moved to Sapphire Beach from Ohio after losing her husband in a car accident and had lived at Palm Paradise for almost as long as Concetta. With their zest for life and adventurous spirits, the two became fast friends, and Grace quickly became like another aunt to Connie and Gianna. She had been a godsend during Concetta's illness, staying with her day and night right up until the end.

Here, let me help you with those. My hands are empty, Connie said, taking a couple of the bags from Grace.

Thanks, honey. Grace's brown eyes teared up. Truthfully, I didn't really need groceries today, but I wanted to keep busy. Some days are just harder than others. This morning I picked up the phone to call Concetta before I remembered she was no longer there. Can you imagine, even six months later?

Connie's throat tightened. Grace, there's no way we can thank you enough for being such an amazing friend to my aunt, especially in her final months.

She put her hand up. Honey, there is no other place I would have been. Concetta wanted to spend her final months at home, and I was happy to do everything I could to help make that happen.

Just then, a gray-haired man with bright blue eyes burst into the main entrance of the lobby. His black button-down shirt with a palm tree print was tucked into light gray shorts.

He made a beeline for the small office just off the lobby, where Jessica, an employee of the condo's management company, kept office hours. When she saw him coming, she stood up and met him just outside the doorway. What is wrong with you people? he asked loudly enough for Connie and Grace to hear. The corridors should be vacuumed by now, and the trash receptacles in the garage are nearly overflowing. Please see to it that this is taken care of, pronto.

Jessica's shoulders stiffened, and she forced herself to look him in the eye. The cleaning crew is due here momentarily, Mr. O'Rourke. But I'll be sure to relay your complaints to the office. Again.

See to it that you do. And kindly inform your supervisor that if he can't handle this building, there are plenty of companies that can, he said, heading toward Connie and Grace.

Connie cast a sympathetic glance in the young woman's direction.

Jessica shook her head slightly and returned to the office, while the man joined Connie and Grace in the elevator.

Making friends again, Hank? Grace said, rolling her eyes.

I don't care about making friends, he said. When he noticed Connie, he seemed to calm down a bit. I take seriously my election to the condo association by the fine residents of Palm Paradise. The management company’s negligence is a reflection on me, you know, and I won't stand for it.

Grace pressed seven for her and Connie, followed by ten, presumably for Hank, who was now blatantly checking Connie out. The top two buttons of his palm tree shirt were undone, revealing a thick gold chain. She turned her head so that he wouldn't see her smirk. Or worse, misinterpret it for interest.

Well, who do we have here? he said with a wink, self-importance oozing from his expression.

Staring daggers at him, Grace put a protective arm around Connie's shoulder.

You better keep your dirty paws off her, Hank, Grace barked. This is Concetta's niece, and she's only here to get her aunt's condo ready to sell. Her voice had risen a couple of octaves.

Hank didn't take his hungry gaze off Connie. Darling, I'm so sorry for your loss. Your aunt was a wonderful woman. Grace relaxed her arm as the elevator door opened on the seventh floor.

That's about the only thing we agree on, she said, ushering Connie out.

If you need a break, Hank said as the elevator door closed between them, I'd be happy to take you on a cruise down the beach in my convertible.

As soon as the doors closed Connie had to laugh. Is that guy for real? I feel like I need a shower after that conversation!

But Grace wasn't laughing. She looked fit to be tied.

They made their way down the hallway and stopped at Grace's door.

Don't worry about me, Grace. I can handle guys like that, Connie said, depositing Grace's grocery bags just inside her door.

"I'm sure you can. You are Concetta's niece after all. Just be on guard when Hank O’Rourke’s around. He’s relentless with my daughter Stephanie."

She thanked Grace for the warning and continued down the hallway to the next door. Taking a deep breath, Connie slowly unlocked the door to her aunt's - now her - condo.

CHAPTER 2

Connie entered the foyer, where she could see straight through the apartment to the crystal waters below. She still half-expected to see Concetta sprawled across the tufted baby-blue chaise lounge with mahogany legs, gazing out at the crystal-clear water seven stories below. Or sitting out on the balcony enjoying her morning coffee or an afternoon glass of Merlot.

Luckily, sadness didn't have time to set in, because Ginger, her aunt's Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, named, of course, after Ginger Rogers, came bounding towards her, melting any sorrow.

Come here, girl, she said, lifting the chestnut-and-white dog, whose color made the name 'Ginger' all the more fitting, and petting her silky fur.

Ginger's fluffy tail thumped against Connie's thigh, tickling her until she laughed. You've been through a lot, too, haven't you? The dog's big, expressive brown eyes seemed to answer in the affirmative.

Grace had been keeping the dog temporarily, but since she usually went back to Ohio to visit her son and grandchildren several times a year, she didn't want to be tied down with the responsibility of a pet. This put finding a loving home for Ginger high on Connie’s to-do list for the week.

Giving her one last squeeze, Connie put the dog down and psyched herself up for a day of cleaning. She grabbed some supplies and started in the master suite, off the main living space. Then she worked her way through the bright kitchen and into the combination living room and dining room.

From there she scoured the foyer and, finally, the guest suite on the other side of the living room, which included a bedroom, bathroom, and laundry closet. Concetta had installed a Murphy bed in the guest room, which had allowed her to use it as a combination guest room and scrapbooking area. Every inch of the sixteen-hundred-square-foot condo overlooked the sapphire waters below, which seemed to stretch on forever.

About 1:30, she gave the place the once-over and smiled. The high-gloss, beige-and-white porcelain-tiled floors sparkled, and not a trace of Ginger's fur could be found anywhere. Aunt Concetta would approve.

After a cool shower, Connie poured a tall glass of seltzer water and heated up a slice of broccoli and cheddar quiche, which her mother had made and left in the fridge. Then she opened the large double sliders separating the living room from the balcony and brought her lunch outside. The fifteen hundred miles that separated Sapphire Beach from Boston seemed like a million.

After lunch, she came inside to load her dish into the dishwasher, just in time to hear a knock at the door.

Grace? she called, before opening. Guests were usually buzzed in through the intercom, so it had to be someone who lived in the building.

My name is Elyse Miller with Miller Realty, came a voice from the other side of the door. Jo Petretta asked me to stop by.

Connie opened the door to find a woman smiling warmly back at her. She looked to be about Connie's age, thirty-four, and had wavy brown hair that fell just below her shoulders. She wore a black sundress with a blue floral print and a matching blue short-sleeved sweater.

Hi, I'm Connie. Jo is my mother, but she went back to Boston early this morning. Please, come in.

After receiving an enthusiastic greeting from Ginger and an iced tea from Connie, Elyse followed her into the living room.

I hope you don't mind my stopping by unannounced, Elyse said between sips, but I thought I'd take a chance. I just finished a showing in the building.

Actually, your timing is perfect. I spent the day cleaning, and calling you was on my list of things to do. Connie took a long sip from her glass. All that cleaning had worked up a thirst.

My condolences on Concetta’s passing. My great-aunt Gertrude lives on the fifth floor, and the few times we were all together for Sunday dinner, I thoroughly enjoyed her company. She was so warm and welcoming.

Connie smiled. Thank you.

And not to mention beautiful, Elyse said, glancing at a framed family photo on the wall. She always reminded me of Sophia Loren.

Connie shared many of her aunt's features - her cocoa-colored hair, olive skin, and almond-shaped, dark eyes - but she didn't consider herself the glamorous type, like her aunt had been. However, there were some qualities that they did have in common. Jo often remarked how both her sister and eldest daughter fully embraced life and fearlessly chased their dreams. Concetta had bravely gone off to Hollywood as a young adult to pursue her acting dreams, while Connie sought adventure serving the poor in developing countries.

Elyse pulled out a leather portfolio binder with a pad of white-lined paper and jotted down notes, while Connie gave her a tour of the apartment. When they returned to the living room, Elyse leaned back on the couch and gazed out at the ocean for a moment, before looking back at Connie. I'm not usually one to turn away a listing, but have you considered living here? With no mortgage on the condo, you'd only have to worry about taxes and condo fees. They might be a little high, but still less than even a tiny mortgage.

Connie let out a sigh. She had considered this option before and had to admit that the idea of living in paradise was appealing. Concetta had even remarked on several occasions that Connie should consider relocating, since she loved it so much in Sapphire Beach. But ever since she could remember, she had wanted to do something that mattered with her life. And her two years of full-time volunteering in Africa after college, where she witnessed the unrelenting poverty that is a daily reality for too many children throughout the world, had only deepened this desire. Even though she had been feeling restless lately, her work with Feeding the Hungry had brought her a sense of joy and purpose over the years. While it was true that, lately, she had been considering moving on to something new, still, it was likely that more doors would open in Boston, where her connections were. Even if she were to consider venturing out on her own and opening her own non-profit, she couldn’t do it alone, and her contacts were back home.

Don't get me wrong, it's beautiful here, Connie said, finishing off her iced tea. And it will be hard letting go of this place. But besides beautiful beaches and palm trees, there’s nothing for me here.

Understandable. I just wanted to be sure you'd considered all your options, she said, putting away the paper and closing her binder. Everything appears to be in great shape. How long will you be staying in Sapphire Beach?

I'll be driving home next Saturday morning. It was only Thursday, so that would give her nine days to pack things up. I'll make arrangements to fly back for the closing, once we have a date. I know it can be done remotely, but I'd like to return for a few more days to donate her furniture and say a final goodbye to Sapphire Beach.

Perfect. I'll come back next week with a professional photographer and put together the listing. We can plan the first open house for the Sunday after you leave. I'll email you the paperwork, Elyse said.

When they finished exchanging contact information and were heading toward the door, Elyse spotted a necklace with turquoise stones on the table, where Connie had placed it after she took it off for housecleaning.

This is absolutely gorgeous, she said, picking it up to admire it. Where did you get it?

Thank you. Actually, I made it. Working with my hands is one of my favorite ways to relax after a stressful day.

My gosh, it's breathtaking. You have real talent, Elyse said. I took a workshop on jewelry making a couple of years ago at a shop in Naples, but I could never make anything like this.

With the right teacher and a little patience, you’d be surprised what you can do, Connie said. If I were going to be here longer, I would be happy to teach you.

Elyse laughed. Patience is not my strong suit. Where did you learn to make jewelry like this?

When I was in Africa. I did a couple of years of post-graduate volunteer work in Kenya, and a dear friend taught me. Connie smiled as she thought of Dura, who had become like a sister during her time abroad. Dura’s family earned a living making jewelry, and whenever Connie had a day off, Dura would patiently teach her how to make a variety of pieces - first earrings (because they were the easiest), then she graduated to bracelets, and before her term of service was up, Connie was creating intricate necklaces.

Wow, Africa! My eleven-year-old daughter, Emma, is studying Africa in school. We would love to hear about your adventures.

I love talking about them. Let’s make it a point to get together before I leave.

Connie walked Elyse to the door, and she bent down to say goodbye to Ginger.

That reminds me, that's another important item on the agenda for this week - to find a home for this sweet little girl. I wish I could keep her, but I'm just not home enough. Cavaliers don't like to be left alone for long.

Elyse scratched the top of Ginger's head. I'll ask around. She's absolutely precious. I'm sure we can find her a good home.

Connie was about to thank her when she became aware of sirens in the distance that seemed to be approaching the building. The women went out onto the balcony to see if they could learn anything. Before long, a police officer and first responders were racing around the building and continued past Connie's balcony.

From seven stories above, the first responders looked to be the size of toy soldiers. They moved about frantically as they attended to a situation in the ornamental grass behind the cement walkway that led around the building and into the pool area. The police officer approached a couple pointing hysterically in the direction of Grace's balcony. Then he rushed into the building.

Connie's heart raced. It looked like they were pointing to Grace's unit. Do you think something could have happened to her? Please, God, let her be okay.

Elyse put her hand on Connie's shoulder. This building has thirteen floors. It could be any one of those condos. But what on earth are the paramedics doing there in the grass? A large area had been sectioned off with yellow tape, and more sirens approached the building.

Let's go see what's going on, Connie said. She grabbed Elyse's arm, pulling her across the apartment and out the door, leaving behind a very excited Ginger.

They ran toward the elevators, but the indicators above the doors showed that they were both occupied.

Everyone must be trying to get to the lobby to see what's happening. Let's take the stairs, Elyse suggested, pointing back down the hallway in the direction they just came from. When they arrived at the stairway, they were almost knocked over by a police officer, clearly on a mission.

They watched as he pounded on Grace's door. It appeared as though he was about to break it down, but Connie stopped him.

Officer, I think I know where the spare key is. Connie remembered how her aunt would sometimes use it when Grace was out of town and she would collect her mail. Connie reached into a hanging flower basket on the front door and felt for the key. It was still in the same spot - fastened to the back of the basket, tucked behind the artificial lavender.

What's going on? Is Grace okay? Connie pleaded, as she handed him the key.

Ma'am, you'll have to keep your distance. If you wait in the lobby, we'll update you as soon as possible.

Elyse nodded to the cop and put her arm around Connie's shoulders, ushering her toward the staircase. Let's wait downstairs and let him do his job.

They arrived in the lobby to find a murmuring crowd. Jessica, the management company employee, was trying to keep everyone calm and contained.

Aunt Gertrude, what is going on? Elyse asked, rushing up to a white-haired woman with kind hazel eyes who looked to be in her eighties. Connie stayed close by Elyse's side.

I was checking my mail when all this happened, Gertrude said to Elyse. Jessica had just returned from a late lunch, and we were chatting when a couple ran in from the back walkway, screaming that they saw someone fall from a balcony. We're waiting for the police to tell us what happened.

Connie's heart felt like it would pound through her chest. She struggled not to give in to her growing panic as she scanned the lobby for Grace. After five minutes, which felt like an hour, Grace strolled up the stairs from the garage, wearing light gray capri yoga pants and a powder-blue V-neck t-shirt. Of course. She must be returning from her bike ride. With all the chaos, Connie forgot that Tuesday and Thursday were the days Grace took a long bike ride in preparation for an upcoming mini-triathlon.

Thank goodness you're okay, Connie said, practically leaping into the arms of her surprised neighbor. Once Grace managed to peel her away, Connie and Elyse quickly caught her up to speed on the situation, including the police officer who had been about to break down her door.

What on earth would the police be doing in my apartment? There hasn't been anybody in there since I left this morning.

While they were talking, the elevator door opened, and two men exited.

Bob, Roger, Grace said, do you know what's going on?

One of the men shrugged and shook his head. No. Bob and I heard the commotion from my apartment and came down to see what was going on. We probably know even less than you do.

About an hour later, just as the crowd, which had grown to twice its original size, was reaching the end of its patience, a police officer wearing a grave expression marched into the lobby and commanded everyone’s attention.

I'm sorry to have to tell you this, folks, but it appears there's been a murder.

Gasps erupted from the group.

A murder at Palm Paradise? a man in a Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts said. There's no way.

Heads from the group bobbed in agreement.

Who was it, Josh? Elyse asked the police officer.

The victim is Hank O'Rourke.

CHAPTER 3

Chaos ensued in the lobby.

Hank is dead? Roger asked, his jaw practically on the ground.

Maybe someone finally had enough of Mr. Octopus Hands, a middle-aged woman wearing a black and ivory sundress said, crossing her arms.

Her friend elbowed her ribs. Stop that, Susan. Now is not the time. A man is dead.

Do you mean to tell me there could be a murderer among us right now? another woman asked, eyeing those around her with an air of suspicion.

We don't know that, ma'am, the police officer said. The killer could have exited the building and taken off by the time we arrived.

Or he or she could live here, the same woman said, panic rising in her voice. You need a key to enter the lobby, unless a resident buzzes you in.

Connie ran her hand partway through her dark, shoulder-length hair and kept it pressed against the top of her head. She couldn't believe the same man she had just met that morning was now a murder victim. Whatever else he had been full of, he was also full of life.

We’re combing the area for clues to figure out exactly what happened, the police officer said. We'll let you know as soon as we have more information, but for now, we ask for your continued patience. We’ll be conducting interviews shortly.

Then he approached Grace and led her to a corner of the lobby, where they could speak privately.

Connie and Elyse followed to lend Grace some emotional support.

I’m Detective Joshua Miller, the police officer said.

They were joined by another police officer who had just gotten off the elevator, and Detective Miller introduced him as Sergeant Tim Donovan.

The sergeant explained to Grace that the police were currently typing up a search warrant to present to the judge but asked if Grace would grant them permission to process her condo, so they could get in there faster.

Why? she asked, stepping back. "I don’t understand. Why do you want to process my apartment?"

Ma’am, the victim was thrown from your balcony this afternoon, he said, looking intently at Grace. We need to get in there as soon as possible, and we have some questions for you, as well.

Seeing Grace’s frightened expression, Connie put a supportive arm around her shoulders. After all Grace had done for Concetta during her illness, there was no way Connie was going to abandon her in her time of need.

Of course, Grace said, turning white. Do what you need to do.

With the permission from Grace that he needed, Sergeant Donovan headed upstairs, and Detective Miller asked if there was somewhere they could talk in private.

You can use my apartment, Connie volunteered. I’ll come with you. I’m not leaving Grace alone.

The detective nodded and motioned toward the elevator.

I’m coming too, Elyse said, following right behind them.

As they rode up to the seventh floor, Elyse said to Connie, This is an awkward time for introductions, but in case you didn’t make the connection, Detective Miller is my husband. Josh, this is Concetta Belmonte’s niece, Connie. We were together in her condo talking about listing it when this all went down.

Josh gave her curt nod. I'm sorry about your aunt. I only met her a couple of times, but she was one of a kind.

Connie smiled, the thought of Concetta briefly taking her mind off the situation at hand. Thank you. She absolutely was. It's a pleasure to meet you, although I wish it were under different circumstances.

When they passed Grace’s apartment on their way to Connie’s, Grace stopped short. She gasped as her hand flew to her chest. There was yellow tape fastened across the doorway and a flurry of activity inside.

Another police officer with short, sun-bleached hair combed to the side and blue eyes, with a hint of gray exited the condo.

This is Detective Zachary Hughes, Detective Miller said.

He shook Grace’s hand, then Connie’s.

Detective Hughes’ expression had been serious, but when he shook Connie’s hand, kindness softened his eyes. As he held her gaze, she almost forgot the reason she was there.

Until Detective Miller urged them to continue to Connie’s place.

Grace resisted. She marched toward her door but was informed that she could not go past the yellow tape until they released the crime scene. At that point, the police didn’t know how long that would be.

Grace narrowed her eyes and looked through the door from behind the tape. Then she pointed to a marble half-moon table with wrought iron legs in the entryway. My statue is missing, she said. I had an angel statuette on that table. It has a lot of sentimental value. I hope you’re going to bring it back to me.

Detective Hughes cast a glance toward the table and furrowed his brow. Are you sure? he asked. There was no statue there when we arrived.

I’ll show you, Grace said. She took her phone out of her purse and scrolled through some photos. Then she enlarged one of them and held it up for the detective to see. This is me with my daughter, Stephanie, last month at Christmas. She pointed to an angel on the end table. This is the statuette I was talking about. At Christmastime, I move it to the living room, but when I left the house this morning, it was definitely on the table in my foyer.

Detective Hughes took her phone, and, with Grace’s permission, sent the photo to himself. Then he handed it back to Grace.

Seeing all the activity in her condo was upsetting Grace, so Detective Miller led her to Connie’s apartment, where they could talk, while Detective Hughes went back to the crime scene.

Grace, where were you at about 2:40 this afternoon? he asked.

Connie checked her phone. It was now after 4:00.

Grace paused and let out a deep breath. I was working out. I'm preparing for the Sapphire Beach mini-triathlon next month, and Thursday is one of my days for a long bike ride.

I see. Would anyone be able to verify this?

You can't possibly suspect me of killing the man! It’s no secret that I was not Hank's biggest fan, especially the way he constantly hit on my daughter. But there is no way I would murder him.

Grace let out a deep breath. Sorry, I know you're just doing your job. This afternoon I was biking alone at Sapphire Beach State Park. I doubt anyone saw me.

Officer Miller looked at her intently. Grace, I couldn’t help but notice when we talked in the lobby earlier that you weren’t sweating, and you didn’t have a water bottle. The sun is pretty strong out there today. Would you like to reconsider your alibi?

Connie took Grace’s hand, seeing that it was trembling.

All eyes were on Grace as she appeared to search her mind for an answer. Then, slowly and deliberately, she said, I had a plastic bottle of water, which I threw away in a public recycling receptacle when I biked through town on my way home. And I wasn’t sweating, because I slowed my pace as I neared Palm Paradise to cool down. Besides, she added, by the time you saw me, my workout had been finished for more than an hour.

At this point, Detective Hughes had returned and joined them in the living room. He showed Grace some photos he had taken of her apartment. Does anything else besides the angel statuette appear to be missing or out of place?

Grace scrolled between a few photos, studying them intently. Right here, she said, holding up the phone for Detective Hughes to see. This plant wasn’t there when I left this morning. She paused, then added, But I know who brought it.

All four stared at her expectantly.

Paula O'Rourke, Grace said.

Hank's ex-wife? You mean she was in your apartment today? Detective Miller asked.

It appears that way. She promised to bring me an aloe plant from her solarium, and this plant wasn't here this morning. I told her to let herself in if I wasn’t home. She takes care of my plants, so she knows where I hide my spare key. She must have come by while I was out today.

CHAPTER 4

By the time they stepped outside of Connie’s apartment, it appeared to be all-hands-on-deck. Uniformed officers from both the Sapphire Beach Police Department and Collier County Sheriff’s Office milled about.

Connie heard one of the officers tell Detective Hughes that, according to the Medical Examiner’s best guess before performing an autopsy, Hank had been hit on the head from behind with a blunt object and then thrown over the balcony. After what they learned from Grace, they suspected the angel statuette was the murder weapon.

It seems like it would take a lot of strength to do that, Connie said to Detective Hughes, hoping to poke holes in their suspicion of Grace. I doubt Grace is strong enough to lift someone over the balcony.

Hank was likely only about one hundred seventy pounds, and the railing looks to be a standard forty-two inches high. Grace is athletic and strong for her age. It’s not out of the realm of possibility, he said. Besides, access to this building is limited, and it did happen in Grace’s condo.

He can’t possibly think Grace did this. She tried to remind herself that he was only doing his job. After all, a man was brutally assaulted in Grace’s apartment.

For Grace’s sake, she hoped