7
FIRST THING IN the morning, Bennett strode into the Summer Beach City Hall and pushed through a door marked Planning and Zoning Department. A trim man with a thick thatch of silver hair and a fit, ramrod-straight physique even Bennett envied stood behind the desk tapping on a computer keyboard. Bennett rapped his knuckles on the counter.
“Hey Boz, I’ve got a heads-up for you.”
“Yeah, boss?” Boz finished typing and turned toward him, peering over his half glasses.
“Jeremy Marin’s widow just moved into Las Brisas.”
“About time. You’d been trying to reach her forever. Imagine having enough money that you don’t even care about a place like that.” Boz chuckled. “What’s her story?”
Bennett glanced around and lowered his voice. He didn’t want to be seen as gossiping, but the Las Brisas es
