I waved to the security camera as I walked back to the kitchen area. Ridge Jefferson, the former Navy SEAL who set up his growing security business in town, actively monitored the place. He was now married to Tabitha-said apron owner-and wired most of the town and the bakery for twenty-four-hour overkill surveillance.

He had his reasons, but I still thought he'd lost his mind. The cameras were especially annoying when you were trying to be incognito and do illegal shit. Or look at the evidence you stole from the police station before it melted. I loved Tabitha, but her husband could be a real killjoy.

I couldn't give Ridge too much shit for his security measures. A lot of crap had gone down at the bakery over the years.

My phone rang on my way to the fridge. I propped the door open with a hip and answered. If I stepped inside, I'd lose signal. Lesson learned from experience. The women's restroom was the only unmonitored spot in the bakery where you had a chance of a decent signal.

"What's up?" I asked.

"Vonnie!" Katy's voice rang through the phone and I pulled it from my ear. "I've got five minutes between people. Tell me about Broadrick."

I smiled. Totally knew she wouldn't be able to wait. "I don't know, Katy. He's back. Says he's left the military, but I don't believe him. He's career." Something had to happen for Broadrick to leave the military.

Something big.

I leaned into the fridge and grabbed the ball of candy, doing my best to keep it concealed from the cameras by holding it in my hand, but it didn't take long before the chocolate became squishy again.

"How amazing that he came back for you," she said, sounding exciting.

I stuck my tongue out in disgust. Katy had a thing for true love. She believed in all that crap now that she'd found her one true love, blah blah blah. I used to agree with her, but not any longer. "I doubt that, Katy. He probably wants to get laid before he goes on his next mission."

The words soured in my mouth because I didn't want to believe them. Broadrick never made me feel like he only used me for sex, but it was the quickest defense I created under pressure.

"Have you given him a chance to explain?"

I scooted to the back of the bakery, keeping the candy low, and then set it on the back counter behind a bowl, hoping that would be enough to keep it from the cameras. "Of course I have."

I popped open the candy order book and flipped through a few pages, looking for something matching the melting candy on the table. Anessa hated to make candy. She was more of a carb shop owner. Breads, muffins, cookies, and cakes were her thing.

That meant every Valentine's and Sweetest Day when she sold chocolate, she purchased it elsewhere and stuck it in her cute packaging. Anessa considered it the biggest secret of the bakery, but it's how most places did it.

Katy scoffed on the phone. "You did not."

I flipped a few more pages, not seeing anything that matched the candy or its packaging. "I did!"

We talked. And then ate Chinese in mostly silence until I politely kicked him out.

"Okay then. If you want me to believe that, what did he say?"

I flipped another page, stopping when I thought a chocolate on the top left page matched up with my stolen one. "He said... Well, he said stuff. He quit the military and was back." I summarized, kill me.

"Uh-huh. That's what I thought. What did you say?"

I grabbed the chocolate and laid it on the page. Not a match. The brown chocolate drizzled on top did not have the same pattern. The packages were close, though. Did they have a quality issue? "I said thanks for the Chinese and asked him to leave."

She gasped. "You didn't!"

I flipped through the rest of the book, but it was all white chocolate and other varieties. Great, I risked arrest for this chocolate and couldn't even figure out what kind it was or where it came from. Anessa's chocolate book had every top supplier of candy. If it wasn't in the book, who made it?

The answer hit me like a baseball to the head. "It's homemade."

"He homemade Chinese food and you kicked him out?"

"What? No, he didn't make the Chinese. What are you talking about?"

Katy sighed. "Get it together, Vonnie. You're confusing me. We have to meet in person. Let's get together this week for a full report."

"Absolutely. What's your man's chef cooking this week?"

Katy laughed. "I'll ask her the menu and let you know."

We hung up, and I leaned against the counter dreaming of the fancy menu Katy selected dishes from. My mother made chicken. Chicken and pasta, chicken crock pot, fiesta chicken. It was okay.

But Katy's billionaire boyfriend had a personal chef who came in at least three times a week to cook. Food you didn't have to make yourself was the best, especially when it was personal chef food. It just hit different.

The candy had gone soft again, so I popped it in the freezer after taking a picture of it sitting on the shelf. I left the kitchen to man the front counter and pulled up my phone, doing searches on different candy baking methods.

Newsflash: There was a literal fuck ton.

Everyone had a way to make candy and everyone thought their way was special.

The only interesting tidbit I discovered was a murder case from 1898, where a man's lover murdered his wife with a homemade poisoned piece of chocolate. Well, her and much of her family. I'd been looking at Jimmy as the murderer, but I didn't see him in the kitchen cooking up a batch of murder chocolates.

Did that make me sexist?

Possibly.

Hmm. But really, sometimes stereotypes applied. While I hadn't guessed his Monday night meeting was an improv group, I really didn't see him as a chocolate connoisseur. At least beyond eating it.

The bakery hadn't entertained a single customer, and I thought better on my feet, so I grabbed the spray bottle of cleaner and worked on sanitizing the tables before the afternoon rush.

Think, Vonnie.

The police had to suspect Jimmy. They always did, but maybe we were both looking in the wrong direction. It made sense when I believed he'd been a cheater, but none of the signs pointed to that actually happening.

He seemed like a nerd just trying to be funny, but people were excellent actors. Did the improv group teach him how to lie? Could he have a lover? Did she send the chocolates? How would the murderer guarantee only Jalinda ate the candy and died?

None of the clues added up. It was such a hazardous way to eighty-six someone. You couldn't guarantee you offed who you intended.

I squirted Pearl's favorite table-right across from the register, a perfect place to hear the best gossip-and wiped. Unless Jimmy had already broken off the affair and his lover didn't care who they took out.

I had more questions than answers.

The murder case had hit a standstill until more evidence fell from the cracks. It would... eventually. I just had to make sure I was there to pick it up before the police.

With Jalinda dead, I was out of the money for the cheating case besides her hundred-and-fifty-dollar deposit, but if I solved her case for the police, I'd show them I wasn't some PI wannabe running the streets but an asset.

With nothing more to do for Jalinda, I did have a case to put to rest quickly. If I returned Brent to Mrs. Coogs, I'd cash her check for rent and get back to the murder investigation. Anessa kept a laptop in the kitchen for researching recipes and general mayhem when we needed it. Right then, I needed it.

I pulled up Photoshop and used the editing program to create a missing dog poster. While paper flew out of the printer, I used the app on my phone to scan the dog's photo and posted it on the Facebook phone tree group. I'd have the entire female population of Pelican Bay looking for Brent. He'd be home by dinner.

The bell over the bakery door rang, and I left the printer to meet the customer. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, but a shadow fell over the doorway as the customer struggled to get through. A box larger than their head impeded their movements.

"Katy?" I asked, glimpsing her hair from around the large moving box. We'd hung up our call less than an hour ago, but something had obviously happened in that that time.

She pushed the box through the doorway and dropped it with a heavy thud on the counter in front of me. I peeked over the top, coming eye to eye with her worried, wide-eyed gaze.

"Vonnie, I'm in trouble."