Augusta gave me a look of disappointment, then wordlessly shook her head and disappeared out the door behind the others.

“Sorry…” I mumbled, staring at the closed door.

Had I accused Derek wrongly? It certainly seemed like I had. I’d wanted to reveal the killer and help Augusta out, but I’d only made a fool of myself and made Augusta mad. She’d probably never trust my instincts again.

And the worst part was that if neither Derek nor Josiah were the killer, that left only one person on my suspect list … Bing.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I looked around the empty bookstore. Apparently, even Lavinia was disappointed in me—she was nowhere to be seen.

Slipping behind the counter, I lowered myself to the stool, my shoulders slumping in defeat. Glancing down, I saw the box of books I’d put there yesterday.

Nothing like looking at old books to pick up one’s spirits.

I rummaged in the box, picking out a thick book bound in soft brown leather. It was heavy—about four hundred pages, the edges dipped in gold leaf, almost completely worn off with centuries of use.

How many centuries? Certain that it was at least one hundred years old, I opened it up to search for a date.

It was a strange book. No publishing information could be found. The pages were thicker than most old books. They rasped as I turned them, the smell of old paper wafting up to my nose.

It was handwritten in what looked like an old quill pen. But the words weren’t English … at least not most of them. I could barely make out what it said, but they were organized with a list at the top and then a few paragraphs at the bottom. Like a recipe book.

With a start, I realized this must be one of the Bates’ ancestors hand written recipe books and probably of value to the family, especially considering the exquisite binding, which must have cost a fortune. I wondered if the recipes were any good.

I really should return it to the Bates’, but I was too embarrassed to call Derek after what had just happened.

“Oh, I see you are finally getting a clue.” Lavinia’s ghost popped into view out of nowhere and I fumbled the book, almost sending it crashing to the floor, managing to save it at the last minute.

“Sorry, Lavinia,” I said. “I really thought Derek was your killer.”

“Why would Derek kill me?”

“For the money.”

“Money? Haven’t you figured out yet that this is about something far more important than money?

My brows mashed together. The truth was, I had been starting to think this had nothing to do with the bronzes. I just couldn’t figure out what it did have to do with.

“You’re holding the key right in your hand,” Lavinia said as if reading my mind.