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be obsessed with money handling their finances.” My attention settled on the family photos beside Spence’s computer. There was one of him with his arms around his parents’ shoulders and another with his parents embracing. His mother and father were lost in each other’s eyes. “Bobby implied Fiona stayed silent because she loved Buddy and didn’t want people to know his business was failing.”

Jo made an impatient sound. “I can’t understand her not defending herself. There’s no way I would’ve stayed silent. No way.”

“I agree with you, but we aren’t Fiona.” I returned my attention to my friends. “Can we all agree that perhaps the motive wasn’t money but love?”

“I can agree to that.” Spence drank more of his iced tea.

“So can I,” Jo agreed. “Does that leave only Betty with a motive?”

I turned the conversation back to the matter at hand. “What about Willy? He seems to care a great deal about Fiona.”

Jo’s expression was dubious. “I don’t know. Would someone really drive all the way to Peach Coast just to kill someone out of unrequited love?”

“That does seem farfetched.” Spence also seemed skeptical. “And we confirmed he didn’t check into the inn until after the police took everyone’s statement.”

Distracted, I wrapped my hand around my book pendant. I’d recreated the original 1994 cover of Night Song, a historical romance by Beverly Jenkins.

Jo slumped back on her chair. “We may not have a motive for anyone anymore.”

I needed chocolate. “If we don’t come up with a motive for Willy soon, we’re going to lose our window of opportunity. He’s leaving Peach Coast tomorrow.”

“Fiona Lyle was the best thing to ever happen to Buddy Hayes. It’s a shame that blockhead didn’t appreciate her as he should’ve.” Grant Gillis was a plain-spoken person. Someone should’ve warned me.

A co-founding partner of Gillis & Sweets LLC, Grant had agreed to stay after normal business hours to meet with Spence and me Monday evening. Spence had driven, which was fortunate. First because I didn’t have my car since I’d walked to work, and second, if I’d driven, we may have ended up in Florida.

Grant had told us in advance—and repeatedly—that he wouldn’t divulge privileged information pertaining to either Buddy’s or Fiona’s legal or business affairs jointly or separately. Legal speak for he wasn’t going to gossip.

The seasoned lawyer’s firm stood in the heart of Peach Coast. It was housed in a renovated gray brick building I suspected had been a family home once upon a time not too long ago. Its interior showcased an abundance of dark wood trim, hardwood flooring, and closet space. Vivid area rugs splashed color across the main floor. The firm’s executive secretary-cum-receptionist had escorted Spence and me up a winding staircase and down a spacious hallway to the older gentleman’s office. After dropping us off, she’d wished Grant a good evening and had gone home.

I took a moment to recover from my surprise at Grant’s directness. “What makes you think Buddy didn’t appreciate Fiona?”

Grant angled his head and shared an inquiring look between Spence and me. “Young lady, are you married?”

I bit my tongue to keep from asking why my marital status was relevant to our conversation. “No, sir, I’m not.”

Grant gave Spence a pointed look before returning his attention to me. “My wife and I have been married for more than thirty-seven years. She’s a saint. Yet I assure you we wouldn’t have made it to our second wedding anniversary if I’d had an ex-wife who said even half of the scurrilous things about my wife that Ms. Betty said of Ms. Fiona.”

I exchanged a look with Spence. It seems we’d found another Fiona supporter. I turned back to Grant. His executive chair was positioned in front of a large window that let in an abundance of natural light. It overlooked the front of the building, which made me think his office had once been someone’s master bedroom. “We understand you were Buddy’s lawyer. Did you also work with Fiona on her will?”

Grant arched a thick dark eyebrow. “Yes, I did, young lady. But I will remind you that information falls under attorney-client privilege. I cannot divulge the details of any of my clients’ last wills and testaments.”

I nodded. “Of course, we understand. It’s just that Deputies Whatley and Cole seem overly focused on a friend of ours for Fiona’s murder, and we’re trying to help clear her name.”

Grant spread his hands. “I’ll answer any question I can. I also want justice for Fiona. Buddy was a friend. We’d known each other for years. I remember when Buddy told me he and Fiona were getting married, he’d bragged he’d ‘stolen’ Fiona from a much younger man.”

Spence sat straighter on his black leather visitor’s chair. “We understand you can’t give us any details about Buddy’s or Fiona’s wills but, in your personal opinion, how was Fiona’s relationship with Bobby?”

A thoughtful expression settled over Grant’s classically handsome features. His cream dress shirt, navy suit jacket, and matching tie suggested high-quality tailoring. “Fiona and Bobby seemed to get on very well enough.” His words were measured as he rocked back on his chair. “Though they didn’t spend much time together. Bobby’s very loyal to his mama.”

“Well enough” for Fiona to name him in her will?

I searched my mind for a way to dig for more information without implying I wanted Grant to violate his clients’ privacy. “You sound as though Fiona was more than a client. You seemed to have known her personally as well.”

Grant’s smile was faint. “Buddy and Fiona, and my wife and I, did some socializing together. After Buddy died, my wife and I checked on Fiona a few times. She didn’t have close friends or family in town. We wanted her to know she wasn’t alone. We were here for her.”

I was impressed. “That’s very kind of you.”

Grant spread his broad hands. “That’s what friends do.”

I smiled at the familiar phrase.

Spence’s eyebrows knitted. “You said Fiona didn’t have friends or family in town. Do you

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