Kris Munroe maneuvered her white Mustang Cobra II into the parking spot beside her Malibu beach house. She retrieved two bags of groceries from the backseat and walked from the car to her backdoor under a perfect blue sky. The wind was breezy, not brisk. With her food shopping done, Kris looked forward to spending her day off riding the waves and working on her tan.

Inside the house, the phone rang. Hands full of bags, she fumbled with the door key. She raced in, set the groceries perilously close to the counter's edge, and answered the phone. "Hello," she said out of breath.

"Kris?" came the reply.

"Jill!"

"Yeah, It's me. Are you okay? You sound like you just ran a marathon."

"I was coming in the door with the groceries when the phone rang." As she spoke, one of the bags tipped over and spilled it contents on the floor.

"Hope you got the ingredients for Beef Stroganoff."

That was Jill's favorite dish. "Why?"

"Because I'm coming home. I finished third in the Tokyo Grand Prix. My next race isn't until next month in Copenhagen."

"Third place? That's awesome! I'm so glad you're coming. I've missed you. And I'm sure Bri, Kelly, Bos will be happy to see you."

"And I'm looking forward to seeing them. Can you do me a favor and pick me up at LAX? I'll be on Air Japan Flight 790 arriving Tuesday at 10:00am."

"Ten o'clock on Tuesday. Got it. We'll have your favorite for dinner. Love you."

"Love you, too," Jill said.

Kris hung up and inspected the mess of groceries on the floor. Of the dozen eggs, only three survived the fall. Oh well, she had to make another trip to store anyway for egg noodles and sour cream for Jill's dinner. Kris also needed to set up the guest bed. And the place could use a thorough cleaning. Technically, the beach house still belonged to Jill. Kris didn't want her big sister to think she wasn't doing a good job of maintaining the place. So much for a day of sun and surf.

As she gathered up the groceries from the floor, there was a knock at the door.

"What now?" Kris muttered to herself. She set the groceries back on the counter and answered the door.

It was a woman, about Kris' height, wearing sunglasses with giant frames covering half her face and hair bundled beneath an over-sized beach hat. In a Texas accent, she said, "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm locked out of my car. Can I use your phone?" She snapped her gum, while waiting for an answer.

Kris didn't need someone traipsing through the house she was about to clean. "Actually, there's a payphone in the lobby of The Sandcastle." She pointed over the woman's shoulder to the restaurant down the beach.

The woman forced a smile. "But I don't have any change. Please? It's a local call."

Despite her uneasiness, Kris relented. "Okay." She stepped back. "Phone is on the wall in the kitchen."

"Thank you so much." The woman came in, walked to the phone, and searched through her purse. "Just trying to find the phone number for the locksmith." Again, she snapped her gum.

"You can use the yellow pages if you want," Kris said.

"Oh, here it is." The woman pulled a small atomizer from her purse, aimed at Kris, and sprayed.

A medicine scent with a hint of peaches engulfed Kris. She reached for the atomizer, but her arms didn't respond. The room spun and she suddenly felt very sleepy. Her eyes closed and she collapsed on the floor of the kitchen.

The woman returned the atomizer to her purse. She knelt, checked Kris' eyes, and confirmed that the detective was unconscious. The woman hustled to the door and opened it.

A man entered. He had salt-and-pepper hair and wore a brown sports coat. He looked at Kris on the floor. "Any problems, Lisa?"

"Piece of cake." Lisa grinned.

The man went to the door and waved. A minute later, two burly guys in blue work shirts and jeans entered the house.

The man in the sportscoat said, "Take Miss Munroe to the room I prepared for her at the warehouse. Treat her decently, but keep an eye on her."

"You got it, Mr. Callaway," the first burly man said. He grabbed Kris by the shoulders.

His partner grabbed Kris by the ankles. Together they hefted the unconscious detective up and out the door.

Lisa looked about the house. "This place is pretty nice. It's a shame I don't get to stay here for more than a few days."

"Don't worry about this house. Just stick to the plan and you can live any place you want," Callaway said.

Lisa removed her sunglasses to reveal sparkling blue eyes. She took off the hat, shaking out her shoulder-length blond hair. She stood in front of a living room mirror and observed herself. She was the spitting image of Kris Munroe. "Don't I look grand?" She snapped her gum.

Callaway grunted. "Kris Munroe doesn't chew gum." He grabbed a tissue and held it out.

Lisa frowned, removed her gum, and deposited in the proffered tissue. "I'll try and remember that," she said in her Texas accent

"And she isn't from Fort Worth. Kris Munroe is a California Girl, born and bred."

Lisa cleared her throat and flashed a winning smile. In her best imitation of Kris, she said, "Hi, I'm Kris Munroe, the newest and foxiest detective at Townsend and Associates."

"Perfect," Callaway said. "That five million dollars is almost ours."