CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENIt was just past 10:30 when I marched up the steps of the blue and gray building in West Ocean City, strode the walkway to Unit #204 and rapped on the door.
No answer. I rang the bell and waited. Nothing.
I pounded on the door. Hard.
I could sense her presence on the other side. Waiting.
I rang the bell again. Over and over. And over.
“Go away!” A muffled voice sounded from inside.
“Avon calling!” I said.
“I’ll call the cops.”
“Oh, good. We can both talk to them about Greener Way Consultants and Billy Ray. Won’t that be fun?”
Silence. The door opened a crack, which widened to reveal Karla. She was dressed in a purple tank top, frayed cutoffs and flip flops.
Well, this is interesting, but I don’t have all day.
“Karla, you forged documents, didn’t you—?”
“Wait
