“The cats. I noticed a group of them and they were sniffing around the pile. That’s why I investigated. Then once I got close, I smelled the peppermint and knew it was you.”

My cheeks burned. Did the Iced Fire smell that strongly? I searched for the cats, but there were none in sight.

“Willa!” Augusta came running, her arms outstretched, enveloping me in a hug. After a few seconds she held me at arm’s length, inspecting me. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine.” I looked over her shoulder where the Bates family was gathered near the front of the house, my stomach clenching as I remembered how I’d falsely accused Derek. “You’re not mad at me because of this morning—”

Then I remembered seeing the scratches on Carson’s arm and the ring. I grabbed Augusta’s arm. “Carson is the killer!”

“I know, that’s why we came.” Augusta looked back at the Bates family and I could see an officer approaching them. “After you accused Derek it gave me some ideas. I took a look at the clues and realized you had the right family, but wrong brother.”

“He was at the shop this morning.” I wrinkled my forehead in concentration. “I don’t remember much … but he had the claw marks on his arm so he must have been the one that broke into my house!”

“I know.” Augusta pulled the handcuffs from the back of her uniform. “Don’t worry, we have enough evidence on him to get him for the break-in and Lavinia’s murder.”

Augusta turned and walked away just as Striker put something that stung on my hand.

“Ouch.” I pulled away.

“This will help the burn.” He pulled my hand back toward him, gently swabbing it with ointment, despite my protests.

“What were you doing up here, anyway?” he asked.

“That’s a good question.” I chewed my bottom lip. Why had I been here? “All I remember is that Carson came to the shop this morning. I saw the scratches on his arm and he was wearing a navy blue coat. But the rest is fuzzy. I might have been bringing them that book.”

Striker’s eyes clouded with concern.

“You don’t remember? Did you hit your head?” He started feeling around my head. “Does this hurt?”

“No.”

“I don’t feel any bumps, but it’s strange you don’t remember. Maybe the trauma of the explosion.” He looked at the house and then back to me. “What was that book, anyway?”

“I thought it was some old family book. I found it in a box with an old Bates’ family photo album.”

“So then, why did Bing take it?”

“Good question,” I looked around for Bing, but he was gone. “I guess I was mistaken about it being from the Bates collection.”