I studied the cat as she ate. She had led me to the murder weapon, which was rather odd. But who was I to talk about odd? I talked to ghosts and that wasn’t exactly normal.

I wished Lavinia’s ghost would appear now. I had some questions for her. Maybe if I called her out?

“Lavinia?” I ventured.

No one appeared.

“Lavinia, I have some questions that might help solve your murder.”

Still nothing. Darn ghosts, appear when you don’t want them to and then they aren’t around when you need them.

I opened the fridge to rummage for something to eat and spied Elspeth’s apple pie—the perfect supper for a crazy day like today.

I cut an extra-large piece and topped it off with vanilla ice cream. Sitting at the table, I stretched my leg out on the chair and dug into the pie. The apples practically melted in my mouth, the sugar and cinnamon tantalizing my taste buds. The crust was perfectly crunchy and Elspeth had sprinkled it with large sugar crystals for an extra boost. The slightly melted ice cream added the perfect creamy complement.

I finished the pie and brought the plate to the sink, suddenly feeling exhausted. Limping up the stairs, I threw on pajamas and slid into bed with a good book about a pirate in 1820s England.

Pandora positioned herself at the foot of the bed. Her greenish-golden eyes glowed in the dark, watching me as I fell into a deep sleep.

In my dream, I was taken aboard a pirate ship against my will. Not that I minded, though … the pirate looked kind of like Striker and I vaguely remember half-hoping he would ravish me like the pirate in my book had ravished the heroine. It was incredibly real and I slept deeply without moving a muscle.

So deeply, in fact, that I would never have noticed if someone snuck in and did a thorough search of my house and barn.

Chapter Ten

Chapter Ten

I got to the bookstore early the next day. Pandora settled into her cat bed in the window and I started sorting and putting away the books that had accumulated, which included a boxful from an internet auction I’d won and a pile of old books I’d picked up in my travels.

Inside the box was a wonderful set of five poetry books bound in rich brown leather with gold leaf on the edges of the pages. I carefully carried them to the poetry section and made room for them on the shelf at eye level.

“I shall tell you with a sigh, the poetry section needs some bulking up.”