She tossed me a pink apron with my name embroidered on it. "Can you run the front? I have Tabitha coming in later, and I want all the cooking finished by then."

"No problem."

She relaxed at my agreement. Tabitha had... a way in the kitchen. And not a good way. She burned things. Everything. I swear sometimes the ovens weren't even on, but she'd go back there and five minutes later smoke came pouring through the swinging metal doors.

I tied my apron at the back and poured Pearl a fresh cup of water, taking her a tea bag to her at her favorite seat.

"Where's your hunky boy toy?" she asked.

I laughed. You never knew if Pearl was in a "love Broadrick" mood or a "hate him" one.

"He's around, I'm sure." Probably spying on me. Paying my boyfriend to spy on me was a total Ridge Jefferson thing to do.

Pearl and I chatted for a minute as she dunked her tea bag an insane number of times. I was pretty sure the tea still steeped if she just left it alone. The bell above the bakery door rang, and I used it as my opportunity to get away from the hypnotic movement.

I was already behind the counter before I turned to see who walked in. When a smiling redhead waved to me, I returned it. Anderson's new girlfriend was just too sweet for him. I'd never understand how they worked.

"Hey, Lainey. I was thinking about visiting you today," I only semi-lied. She wasn't in my original plan, but seeing her face made me realize what a great character witness she'd be for Coach Torres and his affairs at the school.

Her smile faltered a fraction. Lacey had only been teaching at the high school a few months, but she had to have heard something through the grapevine. "You haven't stopped by in a while. I wondered what happened."

I opened the dessert case closest to me and found the best chocolate and chocolate cupcake in the bunch. "Yeah, I thought about it, but Anderson told me if he saw me in the building, he'd arrest me." I planned to schedule my visit in the school parking lot. Anderson didn't have control over the parking lot. Contrary to his belief, the interim chief did not control the entire town.

Lacey laughed. Loudly. Like I'd just told the funniest joke she'd ever heard. It wasn't funny.

Pearl and I stayed silent.

Her laughter trailed off, and she glanced behind her to make sure Pearl wasn't laughing. "He wouldn't do that."

I widened my eyes and then rolled them so she couldn't miss the action before handing her the cupcake. Lacey did not understand the lengths Anderson would take to keep her away from the bakery. He'd probably have half the police force storming in here at any minute.

Shit. He really would. I had to work fast if I wanted to get anything usable from her before he hauled her away.

"How much for the cupcake?" she asked. "I have to get back before the lunch period ends."

Fresh cookie smells wafted in from the back section of the bakery, and I had to stop my stomach from rumbling. I didn't have time to grab lunch for myself before my shift started.

"It's on the house," I said, making a mental note to remind Anessa she'd made another contribution to a case. She was a good and willing friend like that.

I passed Lacey a napkin, and she sat at the table next to Pearl's, keeping her in good gossip zone range.

"Thanks, but remind me to at least tip when I leave," she said, removing the wrapper from the edges of her cupcake.

"Did you ever meet Coach Torres at the high school?" I asked as non-suspiciously as possible and totally pulled it off.

Lacey froze but not in an "oh shit, I'm caught," way. More of a "poor guy," posture. She nodded. "A couple of times in the teacher's lounge."

"What did you think of him?" I asked before she shoved in the first bite of cupcake. Everyone who stepped into the bakery and received a free cupcake should know they were never actually free. We just wanted other forms of payment besides cash. Like gossip.

"He seemed nice." Lacey ripped off a tiny piece of cupcake and stuck it in her mouth. Her eyes went half-lidded and her shoulders relaxed. Anessa's double chocolate had that effect on people. "Very dedicated to baseball. Definitely one of those sporty types."

She had a thing against sports type people since her ex-boyfriend tried to kill her and everything. I understood her reluctance.

"What was he like in the teacher's lounge?" Maybe he had a beef with another teacher and they tussled. Who could beat up and kill a baseball coach? The football coach? Inter-sport rivals? A rogue mascot? The idea had merit.

Lacey chewed on another piece, and Pearl finally stopped dunking that tea bag. I told you she did it for a ridiculous amount of time. "He mostly spent the lunch break talking about how his team was going all the way this year. He seemed really confident, considering they hadn't even played a game yet."

Over confidence in a small-town baseball coach didn't sound that farfetched in my opinion.

"What about the notes from Renee Brown? Did he ever mention them?" It was a long shot, but I made my career off long shots.

Lacey shook her head, dashing my hopes of finding a simple answer. Murders never came easily. "Not a word. Sorry. Did something happen between him and Renee?"

"Nothing. No worries." I grabbed a chocolate cookie from the case to ease my disappointment. "Anything you noticed at all?"

She shook her head and then sat up straighter and stared at her cupcake with wide eyes before turning to me. "He called himself a big fish in a small pond once. Does that count?"

It might.

The comment fit the overall impression of Coach Torres I'd developed from talking to people about him. He had a hefty ego.

"Sometimes it seemed like he considered himself famous. I guess they had a good season last year, and he liked the attention it gave him from the other staff and families. It happened to coaches at my old school, too."

The main door opened, and three people walked in while the fourth held it for them, watching the line in front of him grow because of the kind action. The lunch rush had begun.

"Anessa," I hollered and then started in on the insanity.

**

An hour and a half later, I slung my towel on the table and finished washing up the sticky residue someone's drink had left when they hadn't put it on a napkin. The lunch rush people were some of the worst, especially since I was ninety-nine percent certain Diana Hawthorn had been sitting in the spot. She never cleaned up after herself, and never left a tip either.

Once I finished cleaning the tables, I had a few more people to chat with about Coach Torres and then a girlfriend-soon-to-be-wife to stalk...err... stakeout. As always, my afternoon was filling up, and I still had to make time to grab food with Broadrick.

The door opened, ringing the pink bell hanging above it, and I finished my table cleanup before raising my head.

"Aunt Claire?" I dropped the towel on the table and raced over to hold the door open for her so she could make it into the building carrying a round fishbowl, twice as big as a normal one. The water in the bowl distorted my view of her face. "What are you doing?"

She set the bowl on the nearest table and covered the top as the water stopped sloshing over the edges. Inside, a bright blue fish with huge fins floated along with the waves.

"This is Jeffrey. You're babysitting him for us." A thick blue bag with baby shark images all over it rested on her shoulder, and she placed the bag on the table next to the bowl.

She did not just say what I thought she said. Did she?

"What?" I asked and crossed my arms as I watched the water settle to a slow wave pattern. "Did my mother put you up to this?"

"Yes," she said immediately and nodded. "She said you'd watch Jeffrey for us while we were in Florida."

"He's a fish." And didn't my mother tell me he was a goldfish? That was clearly a blue beta fish in the bowl. Had they swapped Jefferies?

Claire placed her open palms on both sides of the bowl like she'd covered his ears. "Jeffrey still has to eat, Vonnie. Your uncle won him for me at the carnival last year. He's a rescue fish and deserves good things in life, just like regular store-bought betas."

I tilted my head. What in the hell did she just say?

"Couldn't I have chucked food to him at your home? You didn't need to bring him all the way here." And when had I agreed to watch her rescue fish?

The double metal swinging doors to the back section of the bakery opened, and Anessa stepped through, carrying a large tray of fresh-baked cookies. Her pink apron had a giant wet spot on it from the top to where the tray hid the rest of her. I didn't even have the strength to ask.

Aunt Claire covered more of Jeffrey's bowl. "This is his traveling bowl. He has a much larger tank in our office at the house, but I figured if we got a vacation, he should experience travel, too."

A heavy pounding picked up over my left temple. Had my family finally given me that tumor I'd been warning them about for years now?

"You couldn't take him on the plane?" I mean, if we were going to act weird, why not go all the way?

She shook her head and sighed. "No, he gets motion sick."

I bit my lip to stop myself from rolling my eyes or releasing a deep sigh. No need to get my mother involved in this again when my aunt called to complain about my behavior, but that fish did not get motion sick. "So... how do I watch him?"

It's not like I could say no. She'd tell my Uncle Richard, and then he'd call my mother and then my mother would call me and it would become a mess. Saying yes to fish watching now actually saved me a ton of time later.

Aunt Claire patted the bright blue bag with sharks on it sitting next to the bowl. "Everything you need for him is in here. Food, a feeding schedule, a book on betas, fresh plants if he gets bored with these, water testers, the works."

"Is that a diaper bag... for your fish?"

Aunt Claire had her particulars in the past, but this was... new. And disturbing.

Did my uncle know they had a bag for the fish?

"I'm really not sure I'm the best person to watch Jeffrey." Not if he came with that many accessories. "He might not be safe at my place. What if NB has a taste for fish?"

"He can stay here," Anessa said.

I wheeled around toward her on the balls of my feet and gave her "the look."

She shrugged. "What could go wrong?"

I groaned out loud and threw my head back. Fantastic, she jinxed us all.

Aunt Claire clapped her hands together. "Great, then it's all settled. He'll love it here and getting to see the customers. He's a friendly fish. An extrovert if I've ever seen one."

Something in my brain wiggled. Probably the stress-induced tumor growing in my hippocampus.

"I'll make it worth your while," Aunt Claire said, probably trying to make me embrace the ridiculous task of fish watching her rescue beta by offering me money.