Free Killer Listing by Vicki Doudera Page A

to suppress a smile.
    Once the two were secured, Clyde let the boat idle while he connected the giant orange parachute. “Now once I start the boat again, she’s gonna take off and it won’t be long and you’ll be lifting up too,” he said. “You just relax while you’re up there and enjoy the ride. Okay?”
    Dylan lifted a hand as if he were back in elementary school. “How’re we going to get down?”
    Clyde gave a patient nod. “Same way you’re getting up. I’ll lower you back down and you’ll come right back on the platform. Done it a million times.”
    “Shouldn’t you have another person here? To watch us? You know, a spotter?”
    Clyde snorted. Why were the men always the scaredy cats? Lisa was itching to get up and see the view, while Dylan was thinking of every reason in the book why they should abort.
    “I’ve done it both ways, Dylan, with spotters and without.” He nodded as if he were giving the matter some thought. “I find that if it’s just me, I can really concentrate on my customers, give them the kind of personal service they really deserve. If I’ve got another guy, we’re liable to start chatting about the Marlins game, what kind of beer we like, you know, guy stuff. Alone I am much more focused on you, my valued customers.” He paused and gave what he hoped was a convincing smile. “Trust me, you are going to enjoy yourself.”
    He slammed the boat into gear and it leapt forward. “Ready?” he yelled over the roar of the motor. He sped into the center of the channel, enjoying the wind on his short silver hair. It was a beautiful day, the sky a clear blue to match the sparkling water.
    Clyde Hensley heard the winches releasing more cable. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his customers, sunburned legs dangling, rising slowly into the sky.

Back at Near & Farr Realty, her grouper sandwich now a pleasant memory, Darby used her cell to call Enrique Tomaso Gomez, or “ET” as she called him. Her assistant answered the phone with a smooth, “Pacific Coast Realty, Darby Farr’s office,” and gave a loud exclamation when he heard his boss’ voice.
    “Darby! How lovely to hear from you. How are things in the Sunshine State?”
    Darby explained what had happened to Kyle Cameron and ET made a tsk-tsking sound.
    “How often have I told you, those open houses are dangerous. That poor woman. Do the police have any leads?”
    “I don’t know. I ran into one of the detectives this morning and it didn’t sound like they had anything just yet.” She paused. “ET, Helen has asked me to stay a few more days and help her land—and hopefully sell—an amazing listing.”
    “How intriguing. Tell me more.”
    Darby described what little she knew of Tag Gunnerson’s fifty acre island property and explained that a buyer was already interested. “The buyer is Asian, so Helen thinks I’m the perfect person to work with him.” She paused. “I read her the riot act on that one, but the truth is, if it all works, we’ll make some good money. Helen hasn’t valued the estate yet, but from what I know of waterfront property, it’s worth at least thirty million dollars, possibly more.”
    ET was silent for a few minutes. Darby was about to ask if he was still on the line when he cleared his throat and spoke.
    “I know you are anxious to come home,” he said. “But this opportunity brings up an issue I’ve been struggling with for some time now.” Darby heard him swallow. Obviously this was not an easy conversation for her friend.
    “A family member is in trouble, and I need money. I know it’s a lot to ask, but perhaps if this sale goes through, we might talk about a loan.”
    “There’s nothing to discuss, ET. You know I’m willing to help you out, whether this sale happens or not. How much do you need?”
    There was a sigh. “It’s quite a large sum. Half a million dollars.”
    Darby did some quick math in her head. If indeed the St. Andrew’s Isle deal did take place,