I took another bite of my sandwich. A string of cheese dribbled down my chin, causing the corners of Striker’s mouth to curl up in an alarmingly charming grin. I swiped at the cheese with as much dignity as I could. “Have you and Augusta come up with any other clues, besides the embosser and the bronzes?”

Striker studied me, probably deciding if he could trust me. I stared back with my most earnest look. It must have worked, because he said, “We did find some gray hairs clutched in Lavinia’s hand.”

My brows shot up. “Gray hairs? You mean like from an old person?”

Striker shrugged. “Or a young person with gray hair.”

My eyes immediately looked up at my hairline where those pesky white hairs were starting to appear. I noticed Striker looking, too.

“Mine are white,” I said.

Striker laughed. “You hardly have any—this was a clump.”

“So you think she grabbed onto the killer’s hair?” I made a mental note to ask Lavinia about that.

“It’s possible.”

“Maybe it was her own hair. She did have gray hair.” Like half the town, I thought, as I looked around the half-empty cafe noticing most of the patrons were senior citizens.

“It’s not a match with her hair.” Striker rubbed his chin. “Unfortunately, the forensics lab here doesn’t have all the latest equipment, so we couldn’t tell much more about it. Augusta sent it out for more analysis, but that’s going to take a while.”

Striker watched patiently while I polished off my sandwich. He’d given me a clue and now I supposed I should reciprocate.

I wiped my mouth with the brown paper napkin. “Ophelia said she saw a long, black car speeding away from town that morning.”

Striker’s left brow lifted a fraction of an inch and I realized with satisfaction the he hadn’t known about that.

“You talked to her?” he asked.

“Yep. She said she saw the car after she did her banking.” I paused. “Didn’t you say she was at the bank at Lavinia’s time of death?”

Striker nodded. “I suppose that could have been the killer making a hasty get-away. Did she see who was driving?”

I shook my head.

He pressed his lips together. “Hmm … well that’s something to keep in mind, anyway.”

“It doesn’t seem like there’s much to go on.” My words were weighted down with disappointment. How were we ever going to find Lavinia’s killer with these skimpy clues? “I mean, there are so many people that each of these clues could point to.”