Plus, I always kept a spoon on me to dig my way out in the unfortunate situation where I couldn't make bail in a timely fashion-a trick I picked up from Katy.

"It's lucky you're related to Katy." That and I believed he was one of the few good cops on the force.

The Pelican Bay police force had something fishy going on besides just a lazy chief and I planned to find out exactly what they were hiding. I wanted to believe Anderson didn't know about the shady things going on, but if my investigation found he was complicit, I'd turn him in, too.

"I'm taking Lainey home," Anderson said and, against her better judgment, Lainey glanced up at him with a full head tilt to meet his gaze and nodded.

Shit, she had it bad.

Why couldn't someone in this town fall for an accountant or something? It was always SEALs, cops, and billionaires.

"I'll call you later," I yelled as Anderson held the door open for her.

He turned back with a scowl. "Don't."

I sneezed as they walked past the big window at the front of the building and gave Lainey a wave. She had black clothing and a stalker problem. I wasn't giving up on her.

"I hope she didn't tell Anderson about her problem," I said and then sneezed again.

"Seriously, Vonnie. Go home and get some rest," Anessa said, returning to her cookie display.

Not another person telling me I had a cold and needed rest. Although hadn't I just said so myself outside? "Really? Are you sure? I don't want to leave you understaffed again."

My eyes watered, and I wiped at them. I hated being honest about sickness, especially with myself, but I felt worse than when I picked up Lainey.

"Yes, I'm sure. We'll be fine. It's supposed to snow this afternoon, so I'll close early if it gets too bad." Anessa grabbed my coat from the hook and handed it over the counter. I traded it for my apron.

Rather than walk around the building in the cold, I slipped through the kitchen area of the bakery out the backdoor to my car in the lot. Rachel took too long to warm up, so only a trickle of heat was pushing its way through the vent by the time I parked in my lot.

I grabbed the three empty boxes from the back of the vehicle and carried them to my basement apartment. Broadrick might have made fun of my three-box method, but I'd already moved all my books and most of the kitchen utensils. I only needed to work on clothing and shoes and then worry about the big stuff.

With my foot, I pushed open my apartment door and dropped the boxes to the side. Only 752 loads to go. "Really?" I threw my hands in the air at the sight greeting me.

"Really, Spencer?" I said to the tuxedo cat, who had himself stretched out to cover half my coffee table. An assortment of takeout napkins, coasters, and my most recent issue of PI Magazine lay haphazardly on the floor-all things that were safely stored on said coffee table when I left that morning.

"Why are cats such assholes?" I asked as I picked everything up and moved it to the kitchen counter.

Broadrick had NB, and that meant I had a few minutes of privacy to get research done. I yawned as I set up the laptop on the couch and positioned my feet on a small square of the coffee table. Anessa was right. I needed a nap, but I wanted to get some work completed before I gave up for the afternoon.

When Kelvin told me the name Ace Ross at the morgue, I didn't recognize it, but it slowly kept wiggling its way back into my brain. I figured maybe it'd been the name of a teen crush or something, but then, after finding Trish on the bed-and-breakfast ledgers, I saw his name right below it.

The room number was wrong. Katy's book said he checked into a room on the first floor, but his dead body being found on the second floor said a lot more than a book. Plus, from what I saw so far in the ledger, no guests were checked into the room where they found him shot.

I planned to keep looking into it because something wasn't adding up, but until then, I at least had a name to search.

Using Mick's login information, I ran the standard background checks on Ace Ross. A half a page of minor offenses filled the page but nothing too horrible. He'd done six months in a county jail in Michigan for driving on a suspended license, but otherwise the man was clean.

A bounced check at the Rent Rite was the most trouble he'd gotten into over the last year. The only thing super interesting in Mr. Ross's file was the number of places he'd lived. There had to be over twenty addresses listed for him. I'd eventually cross check them with other known addresses for criminals or criminal behavior, but I didn't have the time-or brain power-right then.

I did pop in to the Facebook gossip group and search for any dirt on Trish. Sadly, the last gossip about her happened last year when the diner raised the price of a piece of pie. The town almost rioted.

This town had murders happening and Navy SEALs running rampant in the streets, but they wanted to fight about a dollar more for pie.

"It's madness, Spencer," I said.

The cat didn't respond. NB was a way better coworker.

Both our heads jerked up at the sound of my apartment door opening. "Where did you get a key?" I asked as Broadrick stepped in with NB on his leash.

He opened his mouth to answer, but only a sneeze came out as he let NB loose.

The dog took one look at Spencer, who stood up on his four paws with his back arched and his hair straight up. He hissed with a puffed-out tail and NB took off for my bedroom.

Broadrick sneezed again.

"Ha!" I pointed a finger at him. "You're sick, too."

He shook his head and plopped down on the couch beside me. Except Broadrick was a ripped SEAL, so he didn't plop like I did but seemed to float to the couch without jostling me in the slightest. "Mine really is allergies, but I'm glad you finally admitted you have a cold."

Whatever.

I turned back to my laptop, but my vision fuzzed up from lack of sleep, so I closed it up and placed it under the coffee table where it belonged. "NB, come see momma."

No little dog came running at me from the bedroom. I just wanted puppy cuddles.

"NB, get your butt out here now," I tried again.

Nothing.

Broadrick pointed at Spencer, who had returned to his spot on the coffee table. "He feels betrayed because you let that cat in here."

"Then he should be mad at my mother, not me."

"Well, tell him that," he said with too big of a smile. "NB come here, buddy."

The dog-the traitorous dog-ran from the bedroom like Broadrick had just told him he had a full sheet of bacon waiting for dinner.

I stood up before NB had the chance to jump into his arms and profess his puppy love in slow motion. "You're all annoying."

Without looking at the two of them in their probable love fest, I grabbed a box from beside the door and carried it to my bedroom. If I couldn't research dead guys, I'd at least pack something.

Broadrick followed me into the bedroom. "Shouldn't you be resting?"

"Yeah, I'm resting. Doesn't this look restful?" I asked, as I shoved a handful of clothing into my box.

Unfortunately, the box wasn't wide enough to hold the hangers still displaying clothing, so they fell into it lopsidedly. Broadrick came over and took the handful of clothing from me before he hung them back in the closet.

"Come and sit on the couch with me. We'll watch whatever you want on television to make you feel better." He gathered me up in his arms, and I rubbed my head against his shoulder, sucking in a deep whiff of his cologne.

How did I resist it when he was being so nice? "We could stay in the bedroom and do something more fun."

"Yeah?" he asked and then leaned down to nuzzle my ear.

I wrapped my arms around his waist. "So much more fun."

Broadrick nibbled on my earlobe. "Is that so?"

I tried to answer him, but my body shook when I opened my mouth. I wiggled my nose and tried to take a big breath. None of it helped, and I had to push him away to sneeze in the other direction.

"Thought so," Broadrick said with his smug expression. "To the couch right now."