No way would Ridge beat me to a murderer. I put the clues together and did the legwork. Catching the chief in his misdeeds was my reward. I earned it.

My coat squished as I grabbed it from the chair. "Shit."

Broadrick took my leather jacket, so I had to grab a sweater from the closet and hope an extra layer would work against Maine winds.

It didn't.

NB paced in front of my door and sat in front of it as I tried to get outside and finish this thing. "You can't come, buddy."

He tilted his little puppy head and whined.

"Fine, let's go. There's no time to argue about it." I opened the front door and NB ran out. The brown and white Jack Russell dog flew off the steps and raced toward my car. He wanted to knock the chief off his pedestal, too.

NB had already started his latest masterpiece on the passenger side window before I made it from my driveway. He liked to tongue paint the new one right over the old one. It gave an interesting dimension to each of his pieces.

I grabbed my phone and called Anessa as I passed the pelican on my way out of town. The paint on his sign had chipped more through the winter. Someone needed to give him a new paint job in the spring.

"Bakery by the Bay," Anessa answered the bakery's phone with her standard greeting. It was less suspicious if I called the main line rather than her cell.

"It's Vonnie," I said, since she didn't have caller ID on the bakery phone. "Are the guys in the kitchen?"

Ridge always held his planning sessions in the bakery kitchen. He said a snack helped him put together a good plan. We apparently agreed on some things. Okay, only one.

She didn't hesitate in her answer. "Yeah, I've got a baker's dozen of them here. And one of your personal favorites."

Damn. She meant Broadrick, which meant he'd left my place and gone to the bakery.

"Any sandwiches?" Anessa liked to put a tray of sandwiches together for Bennett. He called them "thinking food."

"Nope, not on the menu today," she replied.

Hmm. That was an issue. Maybe Bennett wasn't there. "Not enough ingredients?"

"No, I had all the stuff for sandwiches, but there wasn't time to put any together," she spoke slowly.

Damn it. That meant Bennett was there, but they would not be working enough to eat a turkey sandwich. Broadrick's two-hour warning was more like an hour. I had to hurry.

I stepped on the gas outside of town, and the trees whizzed by. "Is there anything else I can help you with?" Anessa asked.

That's why I loved my friends. They were always willing to jump into a life-threatening situation and take on a bad guy. Anessa did not know what I'd ask her to do, but she would help just the same.

Which is why I couldn't involve her.

"No, I have backup with me." I gave NB a scratch behind his ears, and he answered with a small growl for messing up his art work. "See you tomorrow."

I had a shift to work. No one was paying me for taking down the chief although I planned to send an itemized bill to the police station once I finished. You had to stay optimistic in these situations.

"Okay, have a great evening. And good luck," Anessa whispered the last part.

I pushed it a little faster on the long stretch of road from Pelican Bay to Clearwater. Lately, it seemed like all the criminals were moving out of the city. My phone rang a little past the halfway mark, and I answered it without recognizing the number on the screen.

NB snorted as I turned down the music. "What's up?"

"It's this Vonnie Vines?" an older sounding gentleman asked.

"It is, and you've reached Vines Investigations. Have a murderer I can help you with?" Why assume minor cases when I could plan for big ones?

There was a pause on the line. "This is Gilbert Wilcox."

"Who?" Why did his name ring a bell?

Another pause, and then the scratchy voice returned. "You left a message on our answering machine about a murder that happened at a bed-and-breakfast in Maine."

It was the husband from the old couple who stayed at the bed-and-breakfast! I laughed at the thought that at one time I considered the dear sweet old couple might be killers.

"Ohhhhhhh. Yeah, don't worry about it. I cleared your names in my investigation."

He cleared his throat. "In truth, Miss Vines, there is something I need to confess."

"There is?" The tone in my voice pulled NB from his tongue painting, and he turned in the seat to snort at me.

"I swear I didn't know. My wife Malory didn't tell me until we'd returned to Florida," he said and someone-I assumed the Malory in question-yelled at him from further away.

"What did Malory do, Mr. Wilcox?" Was another dead body shoved into the basement of the bed-and-breakfast?

At one time, the old manager was running a drug ring down there, so a murder wouldn't be totally out of place. I tried to avoid the basement on principle. They'd constructed the walls from old stones, and it was freaky down there.

"I want to make sure she won't get in any trouble before I say anything."

Oh, my word. I threw my head back, resembling Broadrick when I annoyed him, and did my best not to sigh. "I'm sure whatever it is that jail time won't be involved."

No sense in making promises I couldn't keep. If she had left a body in the basement, I'd have to tell someone. After I caught the chief. First things first.

He laughed. "I'd have never let her do it if I'd known."

I hit the edge of Clearwater and slowed. No point in getting pulled over for speeding. "I really need you to get on with it, Mr. Wilcox. I have a murderer to arrest in a few minutes."

"You can arrest people?" he asked, sounding concerned again.

I switched the phone to my other ear and wiped off my sweaty palm on my jeans. "Kind of. Can you just tell me? I really need to go."

The downtown section of Clearwater often smelled like fresh toast, but I had to turn before I got to smell the delicious scent. A heavy and loud rustle came through the phone, forcing me to pull it from my ear so I didn't go deaf.

"Oh my word, Gilbert. It's not like I killed someone!" a woman's voice yelled and then spoke like a normal person into the phone. "I stole a towel from our room."

"A towel?" That's the big confession.

The older woman did the deep sigh I'd held back a moment earlier. "Yes, a towel. It was fluffy, and I wanted to show Mary Butterworth that it's worth the money to stay at expensive places because they have nice linens. She told me I was wrong and I'm so tired of hearing her opinion about everything. She has a preference on the shape of ice for lord's sake."

"So you stole the towel to prove to her there were soft linens at the place you stayed while on vacation?"

"Yes. I know it probably sounds crazy to you, but you've never met Mary."

I felt a rant coming on and I didn't have time for it. "No, Mrs. Wilcox, it makes perfect sense to me. I've known a few Marys. Your secret is safe with me. Enjoy your free towel."

"I told Gilbert no one would notice, but then we had this message on the answering machine and he got all out of whack. He doesn't travel well."

"Right, well, I'm glad you're home in Florida. I really must go. Seriously, enjoy the towel. Think of us in Maine every time you use it."

Malory said something, but I didn't have time to hear about any other petty crimes the Bonnie and Clyde duo may have committed while in Maine. No one was going to pay me to solve the case of the missing towel.

I slowed entering the chief's subdivision and then parked five houses away from him so as not to draw suspicion.