As a private investigator, Ivy Durant has seen a lot of things but this latest case has her shaking her head-that and having to work with Detective Myles Baylor who still stirs her blood even after all these years-a case of who shot a clown in broad daylight in a shopping mall with no witnesses to speak of. Who is under all that clown makeup turns into a messy soup of suspects when it's discovered an up-and-coming rock star is the murder victim.

As a private investigator, it was her policy to work alone. She pushed the button on the door console to let down the window so she could take a moment to settle. Living in Florida and being able to drive down the coastline and breathe in the ocean air was glorious.

As she drove, she saw off in the distance the giant thunderheads that heralded a storm which would possibly be paying a visit later in the day. She quite liked the thunder and lightning and even the wind that threatened to blow off the roof of your house making you wonder if this was the one time that would do it. The roof would blow off and rain would pour down on you while you're sitting in your living room watching the weather channel.

She pulled in the parking lot where she was picking up Detective Myles Baylor, the cop who'd been assigned to the case. He was waiting outside the precinct of which she was glad. She didn't want to go inside and listen to the snickers of the other officers. Those who knew her, knew she detested working with anyone and undoubtedly would think it hilarious that it was Baylor who'd drawn the short straw.

He pulled on the door of her truck and it wouldn't open. He threw up his hands in a what-the-hell gesture. She looked down and the door was locked. Damn, now she'd have to let him in. Reluctant, she stabbed the button hard with her index finger, mumbling to herself.

"Talking to yourself, Durant?" he asked as he made himself comfortable in the passenger seat.

"Killing you not-so-softly in my mind," she responded.

"Killing me?" he said, his face twitching as he tried not to laugh. "What did I do?"

She had a million and one reasons. Her list of complaints against him was a long one. She wasn't impressed by his arrest record or his ability to find things when no one else could. She wasn't jealous, not really.

"I wouldn't know where to start," she told him.

"Name one."

"Too many to pick from."

"Just one, that's all."

"Like I said, too many to pick from," she said on a surly note.

"Sounds like somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

To keep from stomping on the brake to bring the truck to a screeching halt, shoving open the door and pushing him out, she narrowed her eyes and counted to ten.

"I didn't get up on the wrong side of the bed. I just don't like you." Her dislike of him went way back to their college days.

"Oh, gee," he lamented, grabbing his chest. "My heart is breaking."

"You're an imbecile."

"Thanks. I'll take that as a compliment. I've been called worse, you know."

"I can think of a few words to call you. None of them are enough to describe what you are."