A text message woke me up the next morning.

BROADRICK: Good morning! Are you in jail yet?

I rubbed at my eyes and smiled.

VONNIE: No need to wire Katy bail money. Yet.

Sensing I'd woken, NB jumped off the bed and made his morning mad dash to the back door. He liked to patrol the yard to make sure no hostiles had moved in overnight. Broadrick normally took him for a morning jog, but I needed that time to slug around the house and complain about it being morning.

BROADRICK: Might roll out asap if we get things settled here.

My heart skipped a beat as I read the message, and not in a good way. But I had to be strong.

VONNIE: Okay, keep me posted. Good luck.

Was it appropriate to tell my boyfriend good luck as he raced into danger? Too late now. I'd already sent the message.

I let NB out to patrol the yard and took a quick shower before dressing in black dress pants and a dark blouse. Fingers crossed he hadn't traipsed over to Katy's place. I opened the back door and NB ran in, skidding across the floor to his food bowl.

Well, good. At least I didn't have to hunt down the dog.

An hour and a half after his last message, Broadrick texted again as I put on our leather jacket.

BROADRICK: Love you, Von. Have a great day covering up your fishy crimes.

I smiled and tapped out a message.

VONNIE: Love you too, B. Have fun playing combat games with your buddies.

It was much easier to believe he was sitting around a room playing Call of Duty rather than actually doing the duty part.

Also, we were apparently back to saying I love you. I hadn't wanted to rush things with Broadrick, but now that we'd reentered that space, I didn't want to leave it again either.

He didn't immediately respond, so I gave NB kisses and headed out. It'd taken me two days, but through random internet searches, stolen mail, the gossip tree, and a phone call to the school secretary, I figured out Coach Torres had a bachelor pad in Clearwater. He moved there when he separated from his wife.

The gas bill from all these trips to Clearwater would really cut into my eating budget if I wasn't careful. Why couldn't people commit their crimes and live in Pelican Bay? If this kept up, I'd have to use Broadrick's truck just for the gas.

I followed the GPS to a two-story shaker shingle home on the edge of Clearwater. It was older and looked like they'd turned it into multiple apartments. It reminded me of my old rental, except Pearl said he was on the top level rather than the basement. Another big difference? Rather than a shared hallway with private entrances, it looked as if they shared one entrance. I couldn't walk in and pretend I belonged there. What if someone saw me? I had to go up manually.

I parked three blocks away and stared at the home. Being on the second story made things more difficult. My usual MO included sneaking around the back and using my lock pick set to let myself in. This would take more work. Determination. And sadly, climbing.

Climbing sucked. I hated climbing.

I locked my car and took the long way toward Coach Torres's balcony. Hopefully, someone hid a staircase back there, and I'd have a simple walk up it leading to an open window and easy break-in.

I sighed and drooped my shoulders when I made it to the backyard and saw the situation. No stairs.

"I really hate climbing," I whispered to myself as I stood next to the tall back porch pillar that would get me to the second level.

My pant legs tugged on something as I started my climb. "Really?"

I unhooked the hem of my pants from a loose nail and wrapped my arms around the pole, inching higher. I inched my way higher like a dying caterpillar. Climbing sucked so badly.

Sweat beaded my forehead even in the chilly spring temps as I reached the top and hurled myself over the rail. Actually, it was more like a death rattle as I dumped myself over the railing, but when I replayed it for Broadrick, I planned to spice it up and make myself more badass. I'd definitely use the word "scaled."

A piece of the unstained balcony poked me in the leg as I lay on the wood, sucking in air and trying not to die from the climb. I really did not dress appropriately for the mission. This was not a climbing to recon outfit. It wasn't even a day to night outfit.

I finally rolled myself over and climbed to my feet. There wasn't a regular door for me to go through, but a sliding glass door led to the balcony. I crossed my fingers and sent up a small prayer that Coach Torres left it unlocked in the false belief no one could break in through on the second story.

The handle creaked as I yanked on it, the plastic groaning, but the door creaked open and I breathed out in relief. "Thank you." One small thing went my way.

I opened the door only wide enough to let me in through it and then closed it behind me. The apartment was more of a studio space since it lacked a bedroom. There were only two doors, so I tiptoed across the space and opened both. One was a closet full of clothing-not just coats-and the other a small bathroom with only a toilet, sink, and shower.

Bachelor pad was right. Mrs. Torres got the enormous house in the nice neighborhood and Mr. Torres ended up in a place worse than my old one.

And from the look of it, she kept most of the furniture too. A small round table with two chairs took up space in the kitchen's corner. The long wall in the living room housed a queen-sized unmade bed and, on the other, he had a love seat in front of a flat screen television. The only other piece of furniture was a desk shoved into another corner. Papers littered the sparse top.

It also made it super easy to conduct my search.

I went right for the desk and grabbed the stack of mail on the top corner. Bills. All addressed to his old address with his wife and all unopened. It was weird thinking all these bills belonged to someone who died. How would they get paid?

Piles of mail littered the center of the desk and I used the sleeve of my shirt to move pieces around to read them. Two letters were from a divorce lawyer's office, but a third stuck out as useful. The letterhead had a fighting tiger with bright orange print.

The Machias Fighting Tigers.

We hated them. They were our biggest school rivals. The tigers thought they were so much better than everyone. Just because they won more games in sports and had better academics didn't mean they were better than us.

Okay, fine, it did. But only a little. They didn't have to be so snooty about it.

A door closed somewhere lower in the home, and I froze. Everyone in Pelican Bay was at the same event, but this was Clearwater. I needed to move faster. I skimmed the first few lines of the letter, my eyes widening with every word, and then snapped three pictures of it with my phone.

Questions flooded my mind on the climb back to earth. If the police were already here, why did they leave the letter? It proved people were lying. Normally I'd have to break into the police station and steal evidence this important. Did Anderson not find it? Did I have clues he missed?

My feet touched solid ground, and I fixed my pant legs, moving away from the house and back to the street. I had to make appearances other places. Alibies to set up. People to spy on.

But first I had to update Broadrick.

VONNIE: Found a big clue. Going to break the case wide open.

I watched the phone as I walked to the car and started it up, but he never replied.

When a text came in a few minutes later, I stopped to read it.

LIZZY RAGLAND – UPCOMING FIANCEE: Okay, let's do tomorrow afternoon.

Tomorrow I had a full day, but if I met with Lizzy and marked her case off my books, I'd have one less thing to worry about. I enjoyed having less on my list.

VONNIE: Okay. I'll meet you out front of the nail salon.

She responded with a confirmation and time before I started driving again.

LIZZY RAGLAND – UPCOMING FIANCEE: See you then. You'll love the cardigan place.

I had no reply to that, so I didn't send one. Did I look like a cardigan girl?

Cars stacked the streets by the Pelican Bay funeral home, parking in every place available. Some even in driveways and blocking mailboxes. I had to park six blocks away and walk. Apparently, the baseball coach was a minor celebrity. Everyone came out for the funeral.

I found my accomplice on the bench outside the funeral home. He tipped his head up and met my gaze.

"We have to stop meeting this way, princess." Tony had on a dark suit, and he hadn't shaved that morning. It gave him a respectable amount of stubble.

I held my hand out for him to take. "But funerals are such fun dates."

Tony laughed as he took my hand, and we started for the door.

"Did you keep my cover?" I asked as we reached the steps and paused.

Tony nodded. "Yup. I said you were in the bathroom."

My eyes widened. "For how long?"

He checked his wrist where he wore an actual watch and opened the door. "You're late, so about forty minutes."

Ugh. "Great. Now everyone is going to think I had bathroom issues."

Some gossip was worse than others. Bathroom problem came out at the top.

We entered the building, and Tony dropped his smile, taking on a somber presence with me. We made our way to our standard location along the back wall. It gave me a good place to watch everything and everyone.

Pearl lumbered our way before I'd even found a comfortable position. She had on her worried expression, so I braced for her comment before she spoke. "Vonnie, sorry about the poops. Do you need a Pepto? I carry them in my purse."

I groaned. Tony was so going to pay later. "No. I'm fine."

"It's probably all those cupcakes you ate at the bakery," she said and cast Tony a judgmental glance. "The service is going to start in less than ten minutes. Can you hold it together until then?"

Tony had his body turned away from me and he was staring at his feet, but I didn't miss the corner of his lips as they turned up. I elbowed him in the ribs.

My face turned warm and I ground my teeth. "Probably."

"You need a probiotic. Are you eating enough yogurt?"

Ugh. I'd kill Tony after we made it through this. Why did I live in this town where everyone knew everyone else's business? Right. The PI thing. It came in handy in a professional sense. I just didn't want them to know my secrets. Especially the fake ones that made me look bad.

The door to the funeral home opened, and the groups of chattering people grew quiet. I leaned around Pearl to get a look at what caused the commotion and sucked in a breath after getting a look at our unknown visitor.

"He wouldn't," Pearl said, and not in a whisper voice.

I kept my gaze on him. "He did."